I’ll admit. When you’re speaking, I’ll like you more if you swear at least once within the first few minutes of us meeting each other. I’ll feel more at ease.
But that is not without its conditions. Nothing gross, gratuitous, or derogatory. I know. I’m picky. Insert the F bomb between every other word and I won’t feel at ease at more, worrying that you won’t be able to stop swearing if kids come in the room. Finally, swearing needs context. And humour. That helps digest the words that I devour.
I have loved swearing since the fifth grade. I grew up with brothers. I took to anything that helped me feel less vulnerable. Fast forward to my job at a gym where some of the city’s roughest types felt at home. I was a goldfish in a shark tank. My language took a swan dive into the toilet just to survive.
But then, en route back into university, I attended the first of my night classes with a friend that had known me through highschool.
“Um, Trina. You swear A LOT. Like, A LOT. It’s embarrassing.” She was disgusted. That was the first person ever in my life to openly judge me for swearing and I was offended.
But maybe she had a point.
“Holy f*&$. I couldn’t f$#@! believe it. I drove to his house and the a$$#!@ had the nerve to f&*($@ say to me…” Here’s my question. Do you really want to hear the rest of that story? Was it a story so much as a verbal vomit session of aggression and anxiety?
Let’s face it, a swear word like the F bomb has as much literary nutrition as celery. Swear words convey emotion more than meaning – the speaker’s emotions, not the listeners. If you are speaking to be heard one must communicate content with words that have more meaning for the sake of the listener. So I ask you, does swearing really help with communication? Or is it catharsis?
Here’s the thing, who really cares if I swear or not? Well, it matters if I am teaching values to children. My future endeavours center around empowering the voices of young people. So where do I stand on this issue? I was forced to answer that very question and it was posed by none other than our son.
“But Mom, can’t I have just one? All my friends swear. What if I was allowed to just say a$$?” For the record, Declan was only twelve at the time. I considered letting him know that his swearing in front of his friends was inevitable and I wasn’t about to lose sleep over it.
What did I tell him?
I said no. I told him I was there to help him learn how not to swear, to challenge him to express himself creatively without resorting to the same five words in the cursing vocabulary. They say an intelligent person can always find another word to use. The more words we acquire the better for our health. It turns out that our brains respond positively to labelling our feelings verbally!
One day when he is out of arms reach, he will have the freedom to choose which kind of language is appropriate. And if he’s anything like his momma he may love the colourful world of cursing. But hopefully, with our guidance, he will always make the right choice in the presence of law enforcement, educators, grandma, and his girlfriend’s parents. And he’ll also have a lexicon capable of expressing more complex emotions and concepts than OFFS can ever do (although that is a favourite).
But are any other words as satisfying as the emotionally packed, cathartic prose I spew at will? Will ANY other word EVER feel that good to say in the right moment?
I honestly doubt it.
What? Did you think I was actually going to take a stand on swearing. Admit I was reformed?
Nah. But next time your child tells a story, the most precious, human form of sharing knowledge, encourage the use of beautiful words that tell it well. Help your kids discover words, love words, and wield them bravely. Celebrate words that communicate real feeling. Give them the tools to share their voice.
I’ll never forget when my kids were only perhaps 7 and 10. They were arguing.
“You started it!” said the older one.
“You escalated it!” replied the little one. Boom! In that moment, that word won the war.
In a time in their lives when shocking others for a laugh or to seem cool is a daily competition, teach them some other great words. Make it a game. Teach them how to speak to be heard. Start with…troglodyte, bescumber, or coccydynia.
But on the other hand, why not consider giving them a pass when they pinch their finger in the closet door and every word you thought they never knew oozes out your baby’s yap like a toxic oil spill. Apparently, studies show swearing decreases the experience of pain.
I’ll leave you with one last story. My youngest son didn’t make it onto a team he had been part of. A big shuffle meant he and several other teammates weren’t going to be playing with them again. I had the hard task of breaking this news to him. My husband and I then had to watch helplessly as he crumbled before us while trying to keep a façade of strength. He eventually started to cry.
So I told him, “You tell Life that you won’t be beat. Tell it you won’t let this get you down. I’m going to give you a pass. I’ll let you say it out loud. Say ‘Life! Screw You!'”
So my son looked at me warily. “I get a pass?”
“Yep,” I said. “Say whatever you want.” Just to be clear, I thought he’d say what I said.
“Life!” my son yelled to the universe, “F#@$ YOU!”
Well, holy H-E-double hockey sticks. It hurt my ears hearing my little cherub say it. But you know what he did then? He dried his tears, marched on with his life, and worked hard to meet his new goals. In fact, he changed a little that day and his renewed determination to improve his game positively affected his school work and behaviour, too.
How’s that for one well placed word.
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