(Friendly warning, profanity abound in this piece)
“They’re just words,” my father told me. I don’t remember how old I was but it stuck. My father didn’t care if I cussed — he dropped f-bombs on the regular. He didn’t do it carelessly, but it was most certainly effortless.
My dad was adamant about it too — they are words like any others, with purpose, function, and beauty. Fuck, for instance, can be a noun, “I gives no fucks,” a verb, “fuck off,” turned easily into an adjective, “That’s a fucking apple,” and used to enhance adjectives too, “That’s fucking crazy,” just to name a few of its many uses.
As a teenager I took it to the extreme, fuck being one of the most common words I used on the daily. My best friend had had enough one night and interjected in the middle of one of my fuck-infused rants. “It loses its meaning when you over use it like that. It loses its power.” I had not heard this kind of criticism before, not admonishing me for using the word itself, but for misusing it.
Fast forward to about a year ago, when my boys, at age six and nine, starting cussing in the back seat while I was driving. I thought, why not break it to them, these are just words. “Papa didn’t say anything,” one of them whispered to the other, as I was contemplating my response. “Papa did you hear what he said?” I responded that I did. “Why didn’t you tell him anything?” And so I broke it to them.
They are just words. “What do you mean Papa?” They are words like any other, with specific meanings, and nuance, with so many creative functions and uses. You simply have to know how and when to use them — the proper contexts and situations.
My boys thought this was the best news ever! They started cussing and cussing in the back seat. I explained again to them, there are proper places and situations to cuss, and improper ones. School is not a proper place. With your brother in the back seat, that might be ok with your father driving. I explained all of this, still thinking that this was somehow going to work out for my six and nine year old.
I have talked to my kids like they are adults since they were born, spoken to them without dumbing anything down, no baby-talk, no nonsense (actually lots of nonsense, nonsense is fun). Expecting my children to behave like adults based on what I told them — that was expecting too much.
It took them almost two days to figure out that in front of their mom was not the right context. The first time they dropped a bomb and their mom laid into them they said I had told them that it was okay to cuss. I had to explain to them again, and to my wife, what I had said — they’re just words, but have to be used in the proper contexts. This did not go so well with my wife, not that she didn’t agree, but she knew better than I did at the time, that our boys were not ready for this knowledge, this freedom.
My boys are still in the process of realizing the power of their words. They see that they have power, they witness the results of their words in action. Through experience hopefully they will come to understand how and why choosing their words carefully and intentionally is vital to the impact and outcomes of their interactions.
Knowledge is power. And words can be powerful too, if we use them effectively, nuanced, in the right context, with the right timing and inflection. The classic school yard saying that sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me is hogwash— baloney — poppycock (and not the sweet crunchy poppycock). Words can and do hurt — we hurt each other all of the time with what we say and how we say it.
Once you learn something, it cannot be taken away. And once you say something, most of the time you cannot take it back. You have given life to your voice and your energy, putting your ideas, thoughts, and emotions out into the world. Be careful what you say, how you say it, to whom, and in what context. Be thoughtful and intentional. Words are beautifully powerful and as with any power we can uplift and heal or we can tear down and destroy. The choice is yours.
