Recently, a woman came to my office to talk to me about her media-training service. The meeting went well and we got along fine, but something bothered me–her language.
I’m accustomed to women swearing. It’s no big deal. The use of bad language stopped being a male privilege in the early 1970s, as I recall, when freedom of expression was thriving and sexual repression was ending. Men and women became more comfortable with each other when they spoke the same earthy language. To me it meant we could be candid and forthright with each other.
The visitor to my office certainly didn’t offend me, but her choice of words struck me as inappropriate. Maybe she thought it added to our rapport, but we were meeting for the first time, and she was trying to sell me something. It was business, not a casual conversation between friends.
She wasn’t outrageous, really. She referred to one of her “kick-ass” programs, and at least twice used the expression “that kind of s—.” These days, the “S” word is used freely by many men and women I know. It has become the reigning all-purpose word. It can be a noun, verb or adjective. It can be used to describe any object, loved or unloved, and comes in handy to express everything from boredom and indifference to anger, frustration, impatience, shock, disgust, sadness, annoyance, surprise, joy and amusement. The word now seems to be acceptable just about everywhere except on network TV and in the presence of the Pope (I think).
To be honest, I use this word every day. Like when my alarm goes off, a slow driver gets in my way, my computer does something I didn’t ask it to do, or the Cubs lose again. Sometimes, however, the situation warrants a more powerful expletive, I find the “F” word far more satisfying to use, even if I’m just muttering to myself. The “F” word, once taboo everywhere outside the locker room, surfaces almost as frequently as the “S” word.
I’ll be the first to admit that swearing is probably the least of society’s social ills. I would rather have my kids swear than take drugs. In a stressful world, venting anger is better than physically lashing out. In many situations, swearing is funny, other times, it succeeds in getting a message and a mood across more emphatically than softer language.
I never in my lifetime heard my father swear. I never heard my mother say anything worse than damn or hell. No one swore in movies in those days, not even the villains.
Consequently, I assumed that mature adults did not use bad language. Men with a good education and strong character always spoke eloquently.
That myth was shattered for me with the discovery of the White House tapes during the Watergate investigation. As if the crime of obstruction of justice wasn’t enough to humiliate him, Richard Nixon spent hours editing the transcripts of his conversations and substituting “expletive deleted” to avoid embarrassment.
Nevertheless, as an adult, my upbringing required me to be discreet. I avoided using offensive language at work, in front of my young children, when speaking with strangers, in the presence of clergy and when I was with my mother.
Over time, the opportunities for swearing multiplied as it became more acceptable. The new action heroes cursed the bad guys and each other, stand-up comedians on cable TV grossed us out to get easy laughs and the remarks of disgruntled athletes–our leading role models–were strategically bleeped rather than cut completely during interviews.
At the corporations where I worked, coarse words were used with increasing frequency. The woman who came to my office was just the most recent professional I have encountered with a crude tongue. She was much younger than I, about 30, which means she grew up in a cursing culture.
While I accept this evolution, I’m beginning to see many drawbacks to lax language. It is lazy language, replacing many simple but meaningful words. My visitor could have said “that kind of thing” or “situations of that nature,” or even mentioned a few examples. I can use the “S” word when telling my wife I had a bad day, or I can communicate better by saying my day was stressful, disappointing, challenging, exhausting, overwhelming or devastating. Each word has its own significant meaning.
Another drawback is that once powerful cuss words have lost their impact through overuse. I don’t assume someone is seriously angry just because he or she swears. And no one can shock me with a tasteless remark, except maybe a nun.
I’ve reflected on the times that I swear, and have come to the sorry realization that I’m among the whiners and complainers. But I’m getting tired of hearing myself. Stuff happens, and I simply have to deal with it. My swearing accomplishes nothing. Rather, it tells others that I don’t have control of myself or the situation, and that sometimes I’m not much fun to have around.
My solution, then, is not to find acceptable substitutes for the words that work so well to air my frustration, but to change my attitude. I swear I’m going to do it. I’ll just save the juicy words for special occasions.
