by Ralph Keyes
The more diverse our societies become, the greater is our demand for words that refer to each other’s ethnic heritage without giving offense. This isn’t always easy. According to one poll, American immigrants from Spanish- and Portuguese-speaking countries are evenly divided on whether they’d rather be called Hispanic or Latino. Although in Canada descendants of residents who predated European settlers are called first nation or aboriginal peoples, south of the Canadian border Native American is the preferred term for those who were once known as “Indians.” Many Native Americans prefer Indians. Among U.S. citizens of African descent, black, African American, and of color are all quasi-euphemistic terms that have been used, discarded, then revived once more as better than the alternatives.
Within reason, paying attention to ethnic sensitivities is a matter of common courtesy. Few would disagree that we’re better off dispensing with the expression Jew down. Indian giver and Mexican standoff are phrases best left in our past. Adamant anti-euphemizers who think we should always call a spade a spade are unlikely to do so when talking with a black man. But when the quest for offensive words that need to be avoided goes further afield, absurdities abound. At one time students at the University of California at Santa Cruz were discouraged from using phrases such as “a chink in one’s armor” or “a nip in the air,” for fear of inadvertently offending Asian students.
A long list of words that textbook writers have been advised to avoid includes niggardly; instead, frugal or cheap are recommended. The list was compiled by education historian Diane Ravitch after extensive research on ways in which words used in textbooks are dictated by contemporary concerns advocated by interest groups. In The Language Police, Ravitch devotes twelve pages to recording terms banned by publishers of such textbooks and the state agencies that choose them. Entries—with objections to their use and suggested replacements—include able-bodied (offensive; replace with person who is non-disabled), tribe (ethnocentric; replace with ethnic group or nation or people), brotherhood (sexist; replace with amity, unity, community), and fairy (suggests homosexuality; replace with elf).
As this list illustrates, sensitivity to marginalized members of society lies at the heart of a multitude of brave new euphemistic words. Some of this language overhaul represents progress. I’d much rather live in a society concerned enough about those at the margins to euphemize their status than one obsessed with creating euphemisms for body parts and functions. At the same time, when this process gets out of hand, as it so often does, awfully fishy euphemisms can ensue. Some of the most egregious overlap with educator jargon.
Jargon as Euphemism
At an extreme, students don’t “fail” any longer. According to a group of British teachers, they simply experience deferred success. Those who have trouble learning have been gradually promoted from “stupid” to dumb to slow to special to exceptional. Or, simply, underachieving. A Nevada school board decreed that failing students should henceforth be characterized as emerging, middling students as developing, and those with top grades as extending. I have no idea what they’re talking about.
This sensibility was mocked in an episode of The Wire in which a retired policeman working for the Baltimore school district vividly characterized better behaved students as “stoop kids” and their more obstreperous classmates as “corner kids.” “I don’t like those terms,” says an education professor studying Baltimore students. “Can’t we say ‘acclimated’ and ‘unacclimated’?” This terminology grew out of the actual experience of Wire consultant Ed Burns, a retired detective who later taught at a Baltimore school where classes were divided between acclimated and unacclimated students.
Kids themselves aren’t fooled by such verbal pirouettes, of course. If ever euphemisms get contaminated quickly, it is on the playground. After retarded became a polite euphemism for “idiot,” “moron,” or “imbecile” just over a century ago, it was abbreviated by kids and turned into an insult: “You retard!” The clinical term “spastic” became spaz as a playground taunt. When “learning disabled” begat LD, the taunt “LD!” reverberated among finger-pointing children. Even the smaller buses used to transport special ed students became fodder for invective (“He’s one of the short-bus kids.”).
Today’s schoolchildren also don’t hesitate to throw “free lunch!” at classmates whose families can’t afford to pay for their midday meal. In bureaucratic jargon, these students come from food-insecure households. According to a Canadian newspaper account, such children live “in low-income circumstances.” Alternatively they could be considered underprivileged or deprived or economically disadvantaged. “You must not use the word ‘poor,’ ” admonished Winston Churchill sardonically shortly after World War II. “They are described as ‘the lower income group.’ ”
This is typical of the modern euphemizing process: We replace a clear, vigorous word such as “poor” with ones that are vague and mealy mouthed. According to a jest that once made the rounds (one apparently based on a Jules Feiffer cartoon), a member of the lower income group observed, “I used to think I was poor before I went to the welfare office. Then I learned I wasn’t ‘poor,’ I was ‘needy.’ Then it became self-defeating to think I was needy, so they said I was ‘culturally deprived.’ Then ‘deprived’ became a bad word, and I was ‘underprivileged.’ Shortly afterward, instead of ‘underprivileged,’ I was told to think of myself as ‘disadvantaged.’ I am still poor, but my vocabulary has improved.”
As this soliloquy illustrates, well-intentioned euphemizing is not only futile but can patronize those it’s meant to help. Nowhere is that more evident than in the terms we’ve come up with to describe those who have physical and other types of limitations.
Less Abled
Disabled was originally a euphemism for handicapped, which began as a polite synonym for “crippled.” More recently disabled has ceded ground to differently abled. How do the beneficiaries feel about such verbal courtesy? Not too good, it turns out.
Peg-legged Bill Veeck insisted that he was crippled, not disabled or anything else euphemistic. As the plain-spoken baseball executive explained, those like him who were limited physically felt tremendous pressure from without and within to apologize for themselves because they were “handicapped.” His dictionary defined handicap as “to place at a disadvantage.” The irascible World War II veteran, who’d lost a leg while fighting in the Pacific, in no way felt disadvantaged. Veeck’s dictionary defined crippled as “a lame or partly disabled person.” That described him to a T. Calling himself a cripple was Bill Veeck’s way of not making excuses. He was unabashedly, flamboyantly crippled.
So is author Nancy Mairs. Mairs, who’s had multiple sclerosis since her late twenties, rejects “disabled” and “handicapped” to describe her life in a wheelchair. Like Bill Veeck, she calls herself a cripple. “ ‘Cripple’ seems to me a clean word, straightforward and precise,” Mairs explained in an essay on this topic. “It has an honorable history, having made its first appearance in the Lindisfarne Gospel in the tenth century. As a lover of words, I like the accuracy with which it describes my condition: I have lost the full use of my limbs. ‘Disabled,’ by contrast, suggests any incapacity, physical or mental. And I certainly don’t like ‘handicapped,’ which implies that I have deliberately been put at a disadvantage, by whom I can’t imagine (my God is not a Handicapper General)…. Whatever you call me, I remain crippled. But I don’t care what you call me, so long as it isn’t ‘differently abled,’ which strikes me as pure verbal garbage designed, by its ability to describe anyone, to describe no one.”
Some wheelchair users call themselves “crips” (or at least did before a Los Angeles street gang co-opted that name). This term has a sharp edge that invites blunting. So do most of the words traditionally used for those with physical disabilities. As John Ayto points out in Wobbly Bits and Other Euphemisms, words such as “blind,” “deaf,” “dumb,” “lame,” and “cripple” are of ancient Anglo-Saxon vintage “and can sound brutally
frank to modern ears.” That’s even truer of words used for those with intellectual limitations: “simpleminded,” “feebleminded,” “imbecile,” “moron,” “idiot.” Such terms virtually cry out for euphemisms. Hence mentally challenged, developmentally delayed, and learning impaired.
Seeking polite words as alternatives to rude ones is commendable in principle. Why call someone “stupid” or “moronic” if a more benign term is available? Have we lost anything by condensing “idiot savant” to “savant” alone? Or by forsaking “deaf and dumb”? On the other hand, have we gained anything (other than extra syllables) by calling the deaf (which is what they call themselves) hearing impaired? Or the blind visually impaired? Relabeling drug addicts as substance abusers or saying they have a chemical dependency does little to speed their recovery.
At the same time, it is neither possible nor desirable to avoid euphemistic words in every instance. Nancy Mairs says she wouldn’t presume to call anyone else in a wheelchair a cripple; only herself. I strive for the most descriptive terms that are neither pejorative nor jargony or patronizing. Even though my sister, Nicky, is quite special, I’d never use that word to describe the multiple physical and neurological problems she’s dealt with since birth. Nicky would spot the dodge in an instant.
My own rule of thumb is that when a word demeans (e.g., “mongoloid,” “hunchback”), why use it if there’s a plausible alternative? At the same time, I try to avoid playing musical chairs with words. The primary purpose of language is to communicate, after all, to be clear, not to score some political point or avoid giving offense. Going too far in the don’t-give-offense direction opens the floodgates to censored language and stilted discourse.
Trying to use “correct” euphemisms in every instance is a mug’s game. Who’s to say what is correct? Furthermore, devoting too much attention to appropriate word choice can create a climate of fear. This is nothing new, of course. Ever since the clergy mandated proper use of euphemisms centuries ago and etiquette experts did the same during the Victorian era, there has always been one group or another telling us which words to use and which ones to avoid. This is no less true today than it was during Queen Victoria’s reign. Even if the taboo words and recommended alternatives have changed, their intent hasn’t. Nor has their impact. Inhibited speech and thought is the inevitable result of ideologically mandated euphemizing.
The Price of Euphemania
Too much euphemizing fosters an evasive frame of mind, one that tiptoes around issues rather than confronting them. That’s the way we often want it, of course. But relying on euphemisms can ring up hidden charges. Some feminists have pointed out how much it costs women to use verbal evasion as a survival strategy. They question whether “telling it slant”—in Emily Dickinson’s memorable phrase—is worth what it costs. Canadian linguist Gillian Michell concluded that women who take Dickinson’s advice don’t just deprive men of information they need to hear; over time they lose the capacity to tell it straight, even to other women. When relied on as a coping mechanism, evasive speech keeps those who depend on it mired in verbal timidity. “We tell it slant,” Michell concluded, “at the cost of perpetuating the situation that makes it necessary.”
The same thing can be said more broadly about relying on euphemisms. When we use them to avoid facing problems, those problems become harder to solve. In a prescient paper written three decades ago, medical psychologist Fred Frankel warned about the consequences of emptying mental hospitals without having alternative facilities in place. Frankel thought that recasting “mental illness” as mental health had helped make this situation possible by easing the sense of severity involved. Patients who were no longer considered mentally ill but were deemed deficient in mental health presumably could be treated more effectively outside of institutions. This euphemistic shift smoothed the transition from mental hospitals to community-based treatment centers. Except those centers seldom materialized, leaving seriously disturbed patients without a roof over their heads, literally. The community placement that supposedly followed the closing of mental hospitals proved to be a euphemism for “put out on the street.”
Overreliance on euphemisms has consequences. When put to work on behalf of specific agendas, euphemistic discourse doesn’t just hinder communication, it clouds thought. The tortured prose in annual reports both conceals problems and promotes the muddled thinking that created those problems in the first place. By contrast, direct speech reflects clear thinking. The Ford Motor Company—whose then-CEO wrote in a 2002 annual report that the previous year’s results were “unacceptable”—weathered the subsequent auto industry collapse far better than its mealymouthed competitors. As Bill Ford explained at the time, “We pursued strategies that were either poorly conceived or poorly timed. The real cause of our poor performance, however, was that we lost track of the things that made us great.” This candor lay at the heart of a willingness to face problems squarely that led to Ford’s subsequent rebound.
Candor Restoration
The prevalence of euphemistic public discourse in recent years has sparked a reaction. While euphemizers try to blunt the sharpness of our speech, this countermovement seeks to hone its edge. A group of lesbian bikers calls itself Dykes on Bikes. Gay blogger Dan Savage has asked readers to address him as “Hey, faggot.” By titling their respective books Nigger, Dick Gregory and Randall Kennedy deliberately rubbed our faces in a taboo word, hoping in the process to defang it. Playwright Eve Ensler did the same thing in her Vagina Monologues. All followed in the footsteps of taboo-challenging comedians Lenny Bruce, Richard Pryor, and George Carlin, to say nothing of authors such as James Joyce, Henry Miller, and D. H. Lawrence. Lawrence defended his liberal use of lascivious words by saying, “I want men and women to be able to think sex, fully, completely, honestly, and cleanly.”
Like the replacement of invasive plants with native vegetation, anti-euphemism activists want to restore candor by reviving abandoned words. These words aren’t necessarily profane or even insensitive. Some should never have been discarded in the first place. Two cars colliding was originally called a “crash.” Over time “crash” was euphemized to accident. That word portrayed this event in less horrific terms and made it harder to visualize. In recent years, however, a move to revert to car crash (or collision) seeks to keep the horror of this event in the front of our minds.
There are many other instances in which contemporary discourse has dispensed with unfortunate euphemisms from the past. At one time, a father who beat his children was euphemistically called demanding, a stern disciplinarian, or a hard man in his own house. Today, we’re more likely to call such fathers what they are: child abusers.
Of course, candor restoration is not always pursued to improve communication by dispensing with euphemisms. Too often an agenda is involved. Which words you think need to be clarified and which ones euphemized depends on where you stand. When the “estate tax” is recast as a death tax, a political statement is being made. Dedicated vegetarians who call “meat” flesh and “poultry” birds have goals other than clarity.
In an era of data glut and mute buttons, some advertisers have concluded that candor is an effective way to get customers’ attention. This is true even in some personal hygiene ads where words such as “diarrhea” and “constipation” have resurfaced, and Always maxi pads sport a cheery message on their adhesive backing that says HAVE A HAPPY PERIOD. In 2010, the TV ad campaign for a colorfully packaged new tampon called U by Kotex featured young women who used the word “vagina” when discussing their periods. Even after “vagina” was euphemized to down there, two of the three major TV networks rejected these ads. More candor was possible on the product’s website where women were invited to sign a “Declaration of Real Talk,” pledging to fight for more open discussion of women’s health concerns. “Let’s help bring society up to speed on vaginal issues and take back the word ‘vagina,’ ” stated this website. Kotex framed its new approach as a “mission” to change social attitud
es toward menstruation. “U by Kotex empowers women and young girls to challenge euphemisms that hide the truth,” said a company spokeswoman.
Despite the risk of exploiting candor for commercial and political gain, an apolitical, noncommercial case can be made for avoiding the overuse of euphemisms. First and foremost, doing so fertilizes communication. One reason we delight in hearing children talk is that they speak directly. On the other hand, by euphemizing words he considered vulgar, Noah Webster sapped the King James Bible of its vigor. So did most Bible bowdlerizers. Imagine what would happen to the readability of textbooks that incorporated every entry on Diane Ravitch’s list of euphemisms recommended by censors. This list contends that “bookworm” is an offensive word that should be changed to intellectual. On the grounds of sexism, “Cassandra” should be replaced with pessimist, “Pollyanna” with optimist, and “straw man” with unreal issue. Wake me when it’s over.
At some level we realize that plain speaking encourages the lucid thinking that euphemisms degrade. Yet, we continue to use evasive language even when doing so adds nothing to communication. As we’ve seen throughout this book, from one era to another, and across all cultures there is a nearly irresistible human need to communicate indirectly. All that differs is the context, the rationale, and the euphemisms themselves. A demand for substitute words is constant and constantly changing. Why should this be? What obvious and not-so-obvious human needs are met by our persistent use of euphemisms?