Get Your Hands Off Me, You %@$! Dirty Ape: Our Obsession with Cursing

Before I get into this, let me say one thing.  I was raised in a household where I never called my parents anything other than Mom and Dad, did my chores before going out to play, and could never, ever swear.  If I did, I clearly remember tasting whichever brand of soap was on sale that week.  And I don’t hold it against them.  They always said cursing was the sign of a weak mind. 

Or at least, I think I remember them saying that.  I remember the soap more than my parents’ maxim.

Unfortunately, in my daily speech, such prohibitions didn’t quite take.  I can avoid swearing at work, but more often than not, my wife critiques my language whenever we go out socially. 

But what it did do was aid my written vocabulary. 

I remember being forced to develop other words to express emotions and situations.  That vocabulary slowly worked itself into my writing, which is why my characters rarely swear.  If they can think themselves into a bank vault, figure out an unsolvable crime, or save the world from an unspeakable evil against terrible odds, then they can think of some other term to express themselves.

That isn’t to say they never swear.  That’s impossible.  Jim Butcher once discussed swearing in one of his Dresden Files books.  Unfortunately, I have only the audio and lack a physical copy, so I can’t share the exact wording with you, nor give you the citation.  What I did find out was that, for the most part, I agree with what he said.

Cuss words do serve a purpose, and it’s not just to be vulgar—though some people or characters we create are just that.  But those words also serve as an emphasis on particular ideas and thoughts.  They were designed for exactly that purpose.   Used too often, however, they lose their ability to emphasize anything, and that’s when they become vulgar.  I paraphrase here, and perhaps misunderstood his intent, but Mr. Butcher seems to be making a valid point.

Growing up, I always argued that cuss words were just that—words.  I lacked the understanding, much later than I should have, that meaning behind the words was the problem, not the words themselves.  Comprehension eventually did dawn on me, and I adjusted my use of such words accordingly. 

Mr. John Scalzi (Side Note: I have the utmost respect for both Mr. Scalzi and Mr. Butcher.  They are fine authors, masters of their craft.) wrote a post on his blog Whatever in March of 2002 called “How to Send Me Hate Mail.”  I cannot seem to find the post, otherwise, I would post a link to it.  But you can find it in his book Your Hate Mail Will Be Graded.  In it, Mr. Scalzi, in detail, tells you how to send him hate mail.  There is a subtle—or really not so subtle—message regarding language in general and swearing in particular.  Be original.  Don’t just curse—use invention, alliteration, and all those other techniques when you make your point. 

And that sounds a lot like what I said above: Don’t be vulgar, but use cursing only as an emphasis.

I remember bragging about chewing someone out when I was a kid.  Looking back, it was about as foolish as can be.  Now I am more than a little ashamed by it, but let’s be honest, it’s what I did.  I wasn’t the wisest kid growing up. 

Anyway, my uncle and I were driving through Seattle, and we were discussing everything from his youth in the city to stories about my experiences.  And it was during one of those stories that he said something profoundly interesting to me.  It’s stuck with me since then, and I have found nothing but evidence to support it.

I told him about an argument I’d once had with the younger sister of one of my friends.  Eventually, it degraded to a contest to see who could chew out whom better.  During the first two rounds, we both swore and nothing came of it.  Her third round, she continued on the same bent, but I chose a different path.  Not once did I use a single cuss word, instead favoring combinations and ideas which would’ve been impossible without a broad vocabulary to draw from.  Low and behold, she walked out ashamed.

To this, he dropped one bit of knowledge on me.  I had won because swearing in excess only removes the emphasis you are trying to make.  Of course, those weren’t his exact words, but rather the gist.  Swearing doesn’t bring a point across, only a range of expression can do that. 

Which brings me to the point of this entire post.  I wrote a post about a month ago about how to write, or to be precise, how I won’t tell you how to write.  In it, I used a word that my editor suggested I think twice about because some people might be offended by its use.   She made a valid point.  But I went with it all the same.  Because the word was right. 

That made me ask a question.  Have we taken our prohibition against swearing too far?  If an adult cannot differentiate between vulgarity and the appropriate use of a word—in context—then we are facing more problems than that single usage.  No single word is “evil” every time it’s used.  Sure, some words are bad most of the time, but every single one has a point and a valid use.  Name one and I’ll explain it away.  But if we are using a word correctly, then what right does anyone have to claim vulgarity?

There are certain words that I won’t use.  Or at least, when I do, I feel dirty.  They don’t belong in my current day-to-day vocabulary.  But will I use it if it’s the right word in the right context?  Yes.  Unquestionably, yes.

Because it is the right word.

It’s really up to you to understand what is and is not the right time to cuss.  Does vulgarity fit?  Is it needed?  Or are we trying to express an opinion with that gut-wrenching emotion we can all relate to?  It’s up to you, but do me a favor.  Be aware of things like context and definition.  They make a difference.

 Now, I’ll get off my soapbox.  Bit proud of myself, though.  Spent an entire post talking about cursing but never once used a single swear word.

Damn.  I’m gonna have to fix that.