Why does Quora permit foul language?

To corroborate David Williamson and refute Bill Ness, have some chapter and verse:

What is the guideline on the use of profanity on Quora?

Users should avoid unnecessary profanity.

There are some exceptions where it makes sense to use profanity. One example of this is when the only way to reference something that isn’t profane accurately is to use profanity. Example: What is the Greater Internet Fuckwad Theory? The guideline on profanity on Quora is mostly about tone and common sense.

If you scroll down quickly from the answer by Bodnick from 2011, to the exchange between Dan Holliday and Gigi Wolf in 2013, you can get a chuckle.

If you dig, there are some answers saying that profane language will be sanctioned (Tracey Bryan’s answer to Why aren’t rules guiding the use of profanity enforced more on Quora? from 2012), and a lot more answers recently saying “fuck no, hahaha”.

My own impression is that any rules against profanity are currently enforced either selectively or infrequently. I have not seen the 2011 guideline explicitly rescinded however. And “unnecessary profanity” does not only refer to hostile profanity:

Tatiana Estévez’s answer to If one sees a clear BNBR contravention by one Quora user on another (but is not personally involved) should one report it?

Expecting complete strangers to understand when telling someone to ‘f-off’ is an insult or friendly banter doesn’t make sense on a site as big as this. Expecting moderators to read a long thread and try to judge the tone is not reasonable, judging sarcasm online is notoriously difficult without context.

Why is the Indian community of Quora termed as “self-contained”?

I remember the phrase, I wish I remember where I saw the phrase, but it was very recent!

EDIT: It was Achilleas Vortselas’ answer to To what extent will the internationalization of Quora affect Quora in English?

The Indian community is large enough that it can engage on India-specific topics, without needing to explain itself to non-Indians routinely. Americans and Indians can do that; other national communities on Quora are small enough that they feel they have to provide context.

The now departed Laura Hale did extensive research on In what ways does the Indian Quora differ from the American Quora? One of the clear separations, if you scroll down, is that Indians tend to follow other Indians much more than they do non-Indians. Americans, again, also have that luxury; other national communities do not.

I can’t find where Laura coined the term “the Other Quora”, but it’s a reflection of this: there is a massive amount of activity in the Indian community of Quora, and because that activity tends to be seen only by other Indians (because the community is self-contained), non-Indian Quorans are largely unaware of it.

If you were trapped in an elevator with a trans woman who obviously doesn’t pass, would you feel awkward talking to her?

Heavens, a lot of righteousness in this thread.

I’m going to… well, I’m going to answer this the way I would. I saw the answer before OP clarified, and I’m giving the same answer I would before, but maybe with a bit more details.

I am cis het, and present as such. I’m also middle-aged, so I predate the current increased visibility of trans people. Which means, you know. I’m the group OP is likeliest to be worried about, if they meet me in close quarters.

I have just OK liberal credentials with regard to transgender issues, I guess. I have learned a lot in the past year from being on Quora. I number several transgender and genderfluid people among my online friends, and I make a conscious effort to be supportive of them and to respect their boundaries—which I’m only finding out about now. I don’t volunteer with any transgender groups, and I don’t know any transgender people IRL; so yes, I could do more. But I guess ideologically, I’m aligned with most of the people who’ve responded so far.

Would I feel awkward talking to a transwoman at close quarters, who obviously does not pass?

Yes.

There’s some clear reasons for that, and I’m going to take the time to think them through. OP deserves as much.

First, I don’t actually know any transgender people IRL, so it would be a novelty. Not something to be proud of, but there you go.

Second, I anticipate that, with someone who obviously doesn’t pass, from a group that I have had minimal IRL contact with, I would experience a bit of the Uncanny Valley effect—the freakout people get when they see someone who doesn’t quite match their preconceptions of what normal is.

Of course one’s preconceptions are preconceptions, and nothing to be smug about. Of course preconceptions are battered down by more and more exposure to different images of how people do gender. Of course heteronormativity (cis-normativity?) is a thing.

And people unaccustomed to seeing trans people who obviously don’t pass (can I abbreviate that? TPWODP?) are going to stare a bit more, and feel awkward about the novel encounter, even with all the good will in the world. That’s not an excuse, but it is a thing that you will run into.

But you know, I’ve had that experience of awkwardness before. I’ve had it when I first moved to Melbourne, and saw Asians for the first time. If I stared every time I saw an Asian Australian in Melbourne, I’d never get anything else done; but I did stare at the age of 12. I’ve had that experience when I first met Australian Aboriginals. I’ve had that experience when I first met a butch lesbian.

And I got over it, and in fact I got over it within the time frame it would take me to hypothetically get stuck in an elevator with OP. My best friend for a decade was a butch lesbian. (Well, baby dyke, really, but I didn’t know the distinctions when I first met her; after all, I was unfamiliar.) I was bantering and singing with the first Australian Aboriginal I met within a half hour. The guys I’ve kept in touch with from high school are Asian Australians.

OP, you’re right to be worried about how people will interact with you. Some will not get over their unfamilarity. Some will be assholes. You need to be prepared for that, and you need to seek advice of people who’ve been on the receiving end of it, not just the dishing out side of it. Jae Alexis Lee for example.

But, if this cis het guy can say one positive thing: I stumbled across the transition timeline that my friend Nic posted online. Literally stumbled, actually; she was surprised I found it. (But hey, she did post it publicly, and gave me the address to her blog.)

And what others have said about their transition, well, it was true to see there too. As she transitioned, the light came on behind her eyes. The corner of her lips turned up. The confidence was visible. The joy in experimenting with different kinds of makeup was obvious.

She’s more beautiful now than before: not because there was anything misshapen about her as a boy; not because she is aligning more to heteronormative norms of what a chick looks like. She’s more beautiful now than before, because she’s visibly happier in her own skin than before.

And you know what? Those who do not willingly blind themselves: they’ll see that too.

How did Nick Nicholas come up with the name Necrologue?

When Nick is not rabble-rousing with discontent about Quora, he is a Greek linguist.

The idea of the Necrologue came up to me as far back as July 2016, when I ran the idea past the now departed Laura Hale—though I only publicly announced it in October: The fight continues by Nick Nicholas on Opɯdʒɯlɯklɑr In Exile. (The whole block on speculation was her most welcome suggestion.)

Those who are banned are dead to Quora, and Necrologue is a kind of obituary column of the dead. As Konstantinos Konstantinides points out, it’s a Greek coinage meaning, variably: “Study of the dead” or “List of the dead” or “Word of the dead” or “Student of the dead”. I was going for “list of the dead”, which is the accepted meaning of NECROLOGUE; but apparently the more usual expression in English is NECROLOGY. And in Modern Greek, nekrologia is the word for obituary.

If you look more closely, the usual suffix for “list” is –logy: cf. anthology (“collection of flowers”). The usual sense of –logue is instead “word, writing”: epilogue “afterword”, prologue “foreword”. However catalogue (“down word”) is a pervasive word for lists, and it has influenced the formation in English of necrologue: catalogue of the dead.

So, necrology would have been the normal Greek-based word for an obituary, or even a collection of obituaries. I went with necrologue, because it sounds like catalogue, emphasising that it’s just a listing; and the blog was always intended to be a bare listing.

But Konstantinos is right. –logue is a useful suffix, because of its broad meanings. I am myself something of a necrologue (as in ideologue): a nekrológos rather than nekrólogos in Greek. (The –lógos suffix in Greek corresponds to –logist in English; so I guess I’m something of a necrologist.)

What is Quora’s policy on the use of links?

I echo the ire of OP Martin Silvertant, which Jennifer Edeburn gave voice to so much more judiciously then either of us, in her own answer.

Go read that answer. Jennifer Edeburn’s answer to What is Quora’s policy on the use of links?

And until people actually start getting reported for bad formatting, because they use inline links instead of endnotes, I’m going to keep using inline links. Like almost all answers I see.

While there is no policy against too many links per se, the spam bot can also be triggered by too many links. In fact, that results in the instant deletion of an answer. I successfully appealed the deletion when it happened to me, after removing all the hyperlinks.

Who is the most pithy, acerbic, or droll writer on Quora?

The blog Το λακωνίζειν εστί φιλοσοφεῖν features pithy answers, and is a great place to find acerbic one liners, if that’s what you’re into. Chad Turner was the inspiration for the blog, and you can see why.

Technically speaking, is Doggo a pidgin language?

Hate to bring the serious to the answer, but I’m with Jiim Klein:

  1. Pidgins are called that because of their origins, rather than their grammar, although they do tend to be remarkably similar.
  2. “Foreigner talk”, the way people dumb down language when talking to non-fluent speakers, are informally called pidgins, and indeed foreigner talk is a major origin of actual pidgins.
  3. Language games are typically not called pidgins.
  4. The recurring features of pidgins are things like dropping grammatical markers, using unmarked inflections, very simple syntactic structures.

Now, I’m not up on my memes, coz I’m old.

  • Lolcat is a mix of foreigner talk, baby talk (which has overgeneralised inflections rather than unmarked inflections), and all-out whimsy; I find it hard to believe that any real pidgin would use the I of I can haz cheezeburger?, let alone the are of I are crying cuz I are out of focuss.
  • Doge (meme) has a syntactic frame much too restricted to be a pidgin (many mis-subcategorisation, much exclamatory, such ludic), and a far more subtle sense of modifiers than any pidgin would bother with.
  • I don’t know Doggo. If Doggo is not Doge, and is exemplified in How did the doggo language start? • r/OutOfTheLoop: doggo does a bork and u r doing me a frighten—then again, too much play on normal English syntax, and too much play with wrong inflections and derivations to be pidgin-like: a pidgin would just cut it down to Yu mekim mi frait.

You point out the use of gerunds for tense in Doggo as a pidgin: a pidgin is not going to know what a gerund is, because pidgins drop all the grammar they can. Tense in pidgins are separate words; the classic English-based pidgins use words like by-and-by (future), finish (perfective), been (past).

I mean, if people stuck on a plantation with no common language but what the masters barked at them spontaneously started speaking in Doggo, then yeah, Doggo would be a pidgin. But what I’m finding doesn’t look like a pidgin. What I’m finding is comically inverted English, rather than radically stripped down English.

What are some examples of word-play in constructed languages such as Esperanto and Lojban?

Esperanto neurotically tried to avoid lexical ambiguity, but didn’t get there for compounding, and between that and soundalikes, it’s doing ok. Raymond Schwartz was the main punmaster of the language.

Examples: the sundry aĝo “age” compounds in La Diversaj Aĝoj de l’ Homo, or the groanworthy “tumble dry” of Molière in El “Verdkata Testamento” (1926); Ero (lava rulo; The Miser is L’avarulo).

Lojban really is designed to avoid lexical ambiguity, including at compounding, and I don’t remember much play there, if any.

Klingon has a fair bit of polysemy, and that has been used for jokes. I’ve mentioned here, I think, my spontaneous pun when I walked into my first Klingon meetup, and a guy I’d managed to antagonise said SaH ’Iv? (“Who cares?”) Quick as a pistol, I responded jISaH jIH, naDev jIHmo’: “*I*’m present, because I’m here.” (The verb is ambiguous.)

Polysemy also explains a joke by Okrand, which at first glance seems to be an anti-joke:

Doq’a’ SuvwI’pu’? ghobe’! SuD! “Are warriors red? No! They are blue!”

The chuckle by Michael Dorn on the recording was… unnerving.

But SuD doesn’t just mean blue. (Or green. Or, in violation of how human colour works, yellow.) SuD also means “to take a risk”…