The Gendered Machine: How We Assign Identity To Inanimate Objects

It’s a phenomenon so subtle it escapes notice until pointed out: people routinely assign gender to their cars. Whether it’s a growling Dodge Charger referred to as “he” or a sleek Mini Cooper affectionately called “she,” the practice reveals more about human psychology than automotive engineering. As of April 2024, a growing body of linguistic and sociological research suggests that the “sex of the car” isn’t arbitrary—it reflects deep-seated cultural narratives about power, control, and emotional connection. This isn’t new. For decades, automakers have leaned into gendered marketing: muscle cars for men, compacts for women. But today’s drivers aren’t just responding to ads; they’re personifying machines in ways that mirror evolving social dynamics. Elon Musk’s Tesla Cybertruck, for instance, is often described in masculine terms—“tough,” “aggressive,” “uncompromising”—echoing the CEO’s own public persona. In contrast, the Honda E, with its rounded design and urban focus, frequently earns feminine pronouns in European forums, despite the company’s gender-neutral branding.

The attachment is emotional, even spiritual. Owners name their vehicles—Betty, Thunder, Luna—imbuing them with personality. A 2023 study from the University of California, Berkeley found that 68% of drivers used gendered pronouns for their cars, with the assignment often tied to voice (if the car has one), design cues, and performance. This mirrors broader cultural trends where AI assistants like Siri or Alexa are defaulted to female voices, reinforcing the stereotype of women as helpful, subservient. But cars are different—they’re not just tools; they’re extensions of identity. Jay Leno, known for his 180-vehicle collection, often refers to his vintage Duesenbergs in reverent, masculine tones, while actress Tilda Swinton has spoken of her vintage Volvo as a “silent female companion” on long drives through the Scottish Highlands. These narratives matter because they reflect how we project our values onto technology. In an age where autonomy and AI redefine human-machine relationships, the gendered car becomes a mirror for our insecurities and desires.

The implications extend beyond casual conversation. Car manufacturers are beginning to respond. Volvo’s recent “Equal Vehicles” campaign deliberately avoids gendered language, emphasizing safety and sustainability over traditional tropes. Meanwhile, Hyundai’s Ioniq series uses neutral design language and AI interfaces with customizable voices, allowing users to choose pronouns for their vehicle’s assistant. This shift parallels broader movements in tech and entertainment—Apple’s decision to drop default gendered voices for Siri in 2022, or non-binary characters in shows like “Pose” and “Euphoria,” signaling a cultural pivot toward fluidity. Yet, the emotional bond remains. A Ferrari isn’t just fast; it’s “a fiery lover.” A Toyota Prius isn’t just efficient; it’s “the quiet, responsible one.” These metaphors persist because they help humans navigate a world increasingly dominated by machines.

As autonomous vehicles inch toward ubiquity, the question of identity will only grow more complex. Will we assign gender to self-driving taxis? Will a robotaxi from Waymo be seen as male if it’s assertive in traffic, female if it’s cautious? The answers may shape not just branding, but societal attitudes toward AI and autonomy. The sex of the car, it turns out, is less about the machine and more about us—our fears, our longings, and the stories we need to survive the future.