Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Being PC is Not "Lame"
The first article for my opinion column ("Small Action, Big Change") in a new Canadian publication called The Badger.
===================
I remember my mother explaining to me as a teenager to avoid terms like "slave driver" and "Indian giver." Years later, I shared with her that the phrase "I got gypped" is derogatory, "gyp" being short for "gypsy" – she had taught me well! Saying "That’s gay" flowed easily out of my mouth for years before I had close gay friends and recognized that "gay" is not synonymous with "stupid" or "bad." In the past, I was unfazed to hear someone describing a humiliating situation say, "I wanted to die/ kill myself / slit my wrists/ [insert self-harming term]." Today I flinch at hearing those expressions, now conscious of the grim reality of actual self-harm and suicide.
On my high school soccer team, if a player was injured or performed badly in a game, she was lovingly teased and called a "gimp" "spaz" "short bus" or "sped" (short for Special Education) – it was simply a joke. A few years later I began working with young people with disabilities, including a young woman with Cerebral Palsy. Difficulties with muscle spasticity affect her daily life – she wakes up some mornings with muscle tightness that makes it difficult to stand or walk. I recall the day her mother mentioned that the word "spaz" is short for spasticity. Suddenly, keeping the word "spaz" in my personal lexicon was a low priority. I also recall the day that this young woman—about 13 years old at the time—came home from school and shared with me, through tears, that some kids had made fun of her, called her a "retard." Her pain caused by a single word said in a malicious tone was real and valid; clearly the students’ intention in the moment had been to verbally abuse and belittle her, but it is unlikely they gave it a second thought when they went home.
Getting carried away and becoming the Word-Police (not "Word-Nazi", the use of which trivializes a very real horror) is easy, but alienating and leading people away from self-reflection to conclude that the fault belongs to the offended is not constructive. Pointing out specific distasteful use of language is delicate, and usually not appropriate. When a word has been trained out of my vocabulary, I am able to tell so if I hear someone use the word and it feels like an online pop-up message – I can close that little window, but my attention has been drawn away from the original thought process. My mind departs from the conversation: "Should I mention that the word 'schizo' is rude?" Rarely do I speak up, though, just like I rarely do more than facially demonstrate annoyance and disapproval when someone illegally parks in an Accessible (not Handicap) parking space.
When visiting family in Texas, I was stunned to hear a family acquaintance casually use "negroid" while describing the prolific mating habits of hummingbirds. Apparently having seen my jaw drop, he rationalized, "You’ll have to excuse me, I’m a little bit prejudiced. I am Texan, you know." I myself was born in Texas, but after a brief pause for shock and contemplation, I ended the conversation, walking away instead of entertaining the notion that I should somehow fault or not fault his stereotypes based on his birthplace. Sometimes the issue is not political correctness or the consideration of others. Sometimes the issue is ignorance.
When talking about individuals or groups of people, the tongue has a particular power to oppress and disparage, ignore and overlook, or value and respect. Freedom of speech is precious (not everyone can safely or legally practice it) so to choose words thoughtfully is to honor that freedom. Being "politically-correct" (an undesirable term in itself) is not about telling others how to think. The point is to think about the effect of our own words on others, on the influence words have in our extraordinarily print- and audio-rich lives. My most recent word deletion has been the word "lame," a pejorative for a person with a physical disability; the dilemma I consistently find myself facing when purposefully eliminating a word from my repertoire is that I must replace the word with another, forcing me to expand my active vocabulary. That is the challenge and positive result of erasing disparaging terms from one’s speech (and mind): to find better, more expressive words that do no harm but elucidate the intended meaning. The nuisance of abandoning a few words you never needed is worth the gain of a more thoughtful mind.
===================
I remember my mother explaining to me as a teenager to avoid terms like "slave driver" and "Indian giver." Years later, I shared with her that the phrase "I got gypped" is derogatory, "gyp" being short for "gypsy" – she had taught me well! Saying "That’s gay" flowed easily out of my mouth for years before I had close gay friends and recognized that "gay" is not synonymous with "stupid" or "bad." In the past, I was unfazed to hear someone describing a humiliating situation say, "I wanted to die/ kill myself / slit my wrists/ [insert self-harming term]." Today I flinch at hearing those expressions, now conscious of the grim reality of actual self-harm and suicide.
On my high school soccer team, if a player was injured or performed badly in a game, she was lovingly teased and called a "gimp" "spaz" "short bus" or "sped" (short for Special Education) – it was simply a joke. A few years later I began working with young people with disabilities, including a young woman with Cerebral Palsy. Difficulties with muscle spasticity affect her daily life – she wakes up some mornings with muscle tightness that makes it difficult to stand or walk. I recall the day her mother mentioned that the word "spaz" is short for spasticity. Suddenly, keeping the word "spaz" in my personal lexicon was a low priority. I also recall the day that this young woman—about 13 years old at the time—came home from school and shared with me, through tears, that some kids had made fun of her, called her a "retard." Her pain caused by a single word said in a malicious tone was real and valid; clearly the students’ intention in the moment had been to verbally abuse and belittle her, but it is unlikely they gave it a second thought when they went home.
Getting carried away and becoming the Word-Police (not "Word-Nazi", the use of which trivializes a very real horror) is easy, but alienating and leading people away from self-reflection to conclude that the fault belongs to the offended is not constructive. Pointing out specific distasteful use of language is delicate, and usually not appropriate. When a word has been trained out of my vocabulary, I am able to tell so if I hear someone use the word and it feels like an online pop-up message – I can close that little window, but my attention has been drawn away from the original thought process. My mind departs from the conversation: "Should I mention that the word 'schizo' is rude?" Rarely do I speak up, though, just like I rarely do more than facially demonstrate annoyance and disapproval when someone illegally parks in an Accessible (not Handicap) parking space.
When visiting family in Texas, I was stunned to hear a family acquaintance casually use "negroid" while describing the prolific mating habits of hummingbirds. Apparently having seen my jaw drop, he rationalized, "You’ll have to excuse me, I’m a little bit prejudiced. I am Texan, you know." I myself was born in Texas, but after a brief pause for shock and contemplation, I ended the conversation, walking away instead of entertaining the notion that I should somehow fault or not fault his stereotypes based on his birthplace. Sometimes the issue is not political correctness or the consideration of others. Sometimes the issue is ignorance.
When talking about individuals or groups of people, the tongue has a particular power to oppress and disparage, ignore and overlook, or value and respect. Freedom of speech is precious (not everyone can safely or legally practice it) so to choose words thoughtfully is to honor that freedom. Being "politically-correct" (an undesirable term in itself) is not about telling others how to think. The point is to think about the effect of our own words on others, on the influence words have in our extraordinarily print- and audio-rich lives. My most recent word deletion has been the word "lame," a pejorative for a person with a physical disability; the dilemma I consistently find myself facing when purposefully eliminating a word from my repertoire is that I must replace the word with another, forcing me to expand my active vocabulary. That is the challenge and positive result of erasing disparaging terms from one’s speech (and mind): to find better, more expressive words that do no harm but elucidate the intended meaning. The nuisance of abandoning a few words you never needed is worth the gain of a more thoughtful mind.
