Sometimes I wonder what life was like for plurals of the past. By that I mean – we know of the history of asylums and social outcasting of anyone who did not fit mental or behavioral norms of the past, yes (trends that have continued, although less common and in new forms, into the modern day), maybe even sometimes of those whose plurality was/is part of their culture (so important, and yet so rarely am I able to learn about them), but what of those who flew under the radar? Those who did not know of their own plurality, or perhaps knew, but kept it secret?
How many philosophers and scientists came up with their ideas by conversing with their headmates?
What of the authors who thought speaking directly to your characters on how their story goes was a universal writing experience?
Did any plural leaders who sought the guidance of their council assume that all the advice given to them was decided upon through an internal meeting of selves, just like how they made decisions?
Were there artists who couldn't find the words to explain their drawings were of their headmates? Storytellers who told tales from their exomemories? Record keepers, secretaries, and scribes who were so good at their jobs because they had practice from having to leave records for themselves?
When and where were the plurals like us?
I see hints of potential plurals of history, sometimes – typically in discussions of the self made by poets or philosophers. And there are a few cases that stand out as evidence that we have always been here. But plurality is so often a personal experience, with any observable behavior often brushed over, shunted away from others' knowledge, or just lost in records muddled by how difficult they are to find, that it's hard to make any theories or guesses about the plurals who might have been. Especially with how we're still barely known to most people; there would have been even fewer opportunities for these plurals of the past to find themselves and words for who they are.
It's... something I think about, when I'm looking at studies or learning about history.
Did plural gentleman living in England during the Victorian era get an unexplained thrill whenever they wrote of themselves in the third person for letters, per proper etiquette? Would they have any idea why referring to themselves in the third person felt right, the same way it can feel right for systems referring to themselves by their bodily name today?
But I hope plurals of the past were able to have moments of plural joy, too.
stormborns
tangentwithtanner
snowghoul
kaledo-art
prguitarman
theartofmadeline
areudirty
yousharknotpass
