How our insults betray our prejudices

Name-calling and shame-labeling are popular today.  From major media to comedians to kids on the playground, insults are tossed back and forth like dodgeballs. 

The insults we choose reveal who we disrespect.  I’m not talking about the targets of the insults but rather the descriptors used.  If we say “that’s so sexist,” we are disrespecting the practice of sexism.  Seems reasonable, as long as we don't use the word lightly. 

If we say “that’s so gay,” we disrespect gay folks.  Uh-oh.  Now we’re disrespecting a group of people—the LGBTQA+ crowd.  That isn’t OK because it dehumanizes gay/LGBTQA+ folks.  I don’t care what your views on LGBTQA+ issues are:  it is never OK to dehumanize a group of people.  Everyone has dignity and deserves respect.

You know what I still occasionally hear as an insult, usually uncontested?  The word “retarded” and its ilk.

On the radio, a prominent politician called their political rival a “low-IQ individual,” the sneer in his voice evident over the radio.

I heard a hospital employee refer to a coworker’s mistake as “retarded stuff”—in front of a patient with a newly acquired cognitive disability, a sensitive nature, and perfect hearing.

This is also not OK, folks.  Using “retarded” and related words as a catch-all derogatory term betrays our society’s lack of respect for individuals with intellectual/cognitive disabilities.  When we hear such language being used, we should educate others about how dehumanizing it is.  And we can provide a model for how to provide appropriate criticism.  The insulting words are just a symptom of a deeper problem.  The best way to stop using dehumanizing language is to change our hearts.

Having intellectual/cognitive disabilities does not make someone inferior.  It’s a clinical condition that isn’t even easy to diagnose.  Intelligence is multifaceted and occurs on a complicated sort of spectrum.  And it changes over time.  Having such a disability says nothing about a person’s moral character and is not a chosen condition.

One of my friends self-identifies as being “mentally retarded,” as this was the diagnosis she received in her childhood.  ("Retarded" used to be a common clinical term but has fallen out of use because of its use in insult.)  How do you think she feels when she hears someone say “that’s so retarded” or “you’re so retarded” in an insulting manner? 

Just as with sexual orientation, race, etc., we should not be using “retarded” as a derogatory term.

When we hear such words used inappropriately, we have an opportunity to speak out in a way that can inspire positive change.  If you hear someone using an insult that dehumanizes others, I encourage you to educate that person.  We don’t have to shame them because as Brené Brown, PhD, LMSW says, shame is not an effective tool for social justice.  We can politely tell them that the language they used is hurtful and ask them to stop using those words as insults.

One of the most effective ways for us to effect change in our culture is to model a way of speaking that doesn’t dehumanize others.

Insults that dehumanize people with intellectual/cognitive disabilities use clinical and semi-clinical terms like “retarded,” “special needs,” “resource,” “low-IQ,” “disabled,” etc.  We should refrain from using these terms outside of their clinical context, where they are not used as insults. 

But what about more subtle forms of insult like “slow,” “stupid,” “dumb,” “idiotic,” “imbecilic,” “foolish,” or “unwise”?  Some of these terms are more emotionally charged than others.  Some of them refer to a specific group, like “slow” as a substitute for “retarded” or referring to someone with slower processing time.  “Dumb” traditionally referred to someone who couldn’t speak, perhaps because of an expressive language disorder, but that meaning has been more or less replaced with the same meaning as “stupid” in the common parlance.  How careful should we be with terms like these?

The waters are muddied by this:  it’s important to judge the wisdom of our own (and sometimes others’) choices.  I tell my rehab and executive function patients all the time to evaluate their decisions carefully and learn from them.  An unwise decision with unwanted consequences should be labeled as such to avoid the same mistake in the future, and a wise decision should be labeled as such to encourage similar decisions in the future.

So when is it appropriate or inappropriate to use these non-clinical words?  I’m not trying to be the PC police here—I’m legitimately asking the question.  I’m not really sure where to draw the line.

Maybe instead of drawing a line, we should re-align our hearts.

Let’s stop treating perceived intelligence like moral superiority.  There are plenty of good people who make unwise choices and plenty of good people with low IQs and plenty of good people who are intellectually or cognitively disabled.  And it’s not a sin to be wrong, to make mistakes.  In our current culture, this is radical.

So let’s be radical.

When we stop treating perceived intelligence like moral superiority (and lack of it as moral inferiority), we stop dehumanizing people with intellectual/cognitive disabilities.  We won’t use intelligence words (clinical or not) to label a person in a derogatory way.  And when we criticize actions, we will use words that are NOT emotionally charged.  Yes, even when we’re angry.  Because being angry is not an excuse to dehumanize others.

If we re-align our hearts, we won’t have to think about it.  When you are angry, do you have to think about whether or not you use racial slurs to insult someone or something?  I hope not!  Do you have to think about whether or not you use the word “gay” to insult someone or something?  Again, I really hope not!  So let’s give our brothers and sisters with intellectual and cognitive disabilities the same respect we know we should afford to others.

Let’s value everyone’s dignity.  When we change our hearts, our tongues will follow.

Let's rely on our strengths and resiliencies

As a speech therapist, I am sometimes tempted to focus only on improving my patients’ deficits.  After all, isn’t that what rehabilitation is about?  Fixing “broken” communication, “broken” cognition, a “broken” swallow?

 

This happens with writing too.  Growing up, I always thought that the best way to help a friend to better their story/poem/essay was to bleed red ink all over the page, pointing out what doesn’t work so they can fix it.

 

And don’t we all do this to ourselves sometimes?  Pull out the red pen, evaluate our shortcomings and limitations, focus on the "bad parts of ourselves" so we can become better, kinder, more efficient?

 

What if it’s just as important—maybe even more important sometimes—to acknowledge and nurture our talents and resiliencies?  Of course we must acknowledge our mistakes, shortcomings, and weaknesses.  But what if shift our language—what if we call them "challenges" instead—calls to action instead of traits we're stuck with?  Maybe we have the ability to overcome these challenges—or find a workaround or at least make some progress—by relying heavily on our STRENGTHS.

When I evaluate a patient’s language, thinking, and swallowing skills, I am sure to discuss their troubles with them.  But now I’m making a conscious effort to also tell them and their families about what they do really well too!  Maybe their memory isn’t working the way they want it to (a challenge), but they’re awesome at paying attention, which is going to help them to use their memory strategies.  Maybe they can’t swallow water well right now (a challenge), but they have a strong cough so we can work with that!  Maybe they have trouble focusing (a challenge), but by golly they are motivated and have a positive attitude.  Maybe they have a LOT of challenges, but their support system is working for their good.

 

Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor, authors of the Welcome to Night Vale podcast and various spinoff novels and podcasts, emphasized once that in writing, a more motivating and helpful way to critique someone’s work is to point out what is working really well so they can bring out more of those aspects in their work.

 

Maybe this could work on a societal level.  When we encounter a negative societal behavior, like racism or sexism or selfishness or unwilling-to-listen-ness, first we must of course acknowledge the problem.  This takes work.  And obviously, merely acknowledging the problem is not enough—we must face it and work to overcome it.  So what's the next step?  

To face these problems, we can draw on our collective compassion and kindness as a society to work to overcome those obstacles.  By exploring and utilizing our positivities, we can fight our societal problems.  Will we ever truly overcome a societal weakness?  Probably not entirely, but a positive human trait I believe in strongly is perseverance.

This is something that I find so encouraging about the Black Lives Matter movement—I'm hearing a lot of rhetoric that readily acknowledges that we are going to make mistakes.  Everyone does.  It's uncomfortable to learn that we've made mistakes, but the emphasis is on apologizing and learning how to use our humility and kindness to do better.  Learning about our mistakes and weaknesses is not about shaming us—and it never was.  It's about creating positive change.  For a really genuine and heartfelt conversation about this, I recommend listening to Brené Brown's conversation with Austin Channing Brown on the podcast Unlocking Us.

 

I’d like to apply this principle to my own life, and I invite you all to as well.  I make TONS of mistakes—maybe even in this post you have found some mistakes.  It's easy for me to dwell on them without moving forward.

So here is my resolution:  when I recognize or am told that I’m behaving impatient or interrupty or selfish or racist or small minded or making silly mistakes or being ignorant, I’d like to label my predisposition toward a “less than ideal” or even just plain "bad" behavior as a CHALLENGE rather than a failure of character.  This way, I can be motivated to change my behaviors in the future.  If I don’t identify with my undesirable behaviors but instead see them as obstacles to overcome, I give them less power.  I’ll probably never be perfect at facing any obstacle.  But I can keep trying.

And how do I face these challenges?  By using my virtues and resiliencies to face the obstacle.  I strongly believe that all of these strengths come from God.  And He is bigger and stronger than any obstacle or challenge I could ever encounter.

 

 

Pruning my Garden: from Tolkien to Pinker and beyond

I sat with my cousin on the floor in the corner of the bookstore, poring over Elvish grammar and the rich world of Tolkien’s languages.  A seed was planted.  Over the next few years, I tended to my little metaphorical garden, writing in Tolkien’s alphabets and languages, learning Spanish, practicing my broken Portuguese, and adding broken German to the mix.

Unfortunately, some of the plants in my garden grew thorns.  My love of words and grammar turned me into the grammar police, trying to “correct” everyone’s sentences, even in my own family.  “Don’t end sentences in prepositions,” I would say, or, “Mark all your adjectives with an LY.”  I wanted everyone to speak Academic English, and I was frustrated by deviations from the rules of Strunk and White.

Then I encountered Steven Pinker.  My friend Sofija lent me The Language Instinct.  Pinker's work exposed my metaphorical garden for what it really was:  full of toxic weeds.

"What do you do?" Shifting our small talk

In the United States, our small talk is very direct.  After asking someone’s name and maybe where they are from, the next question is usually, “What do you do?”

In a culture that defines a person’s worth by their productivity, it can feel very vulnerable to say you don't have a 9-5 job.  This subject can feel especially raw for people with newly acquired disabilities that precipitated a career change or an early retirement.  

Even for the traditionally employed, this question can be daunting.  Brené Brown, who researches the human condition, wrote about this in her book The Gifts of Imperfection:  “Most of us have complicated answers to this question.  For example, I’m a mom, partner, researcher, writer, storyteller, sister, friend, daughter, and teacher.  All of these things make up who I am, so I never know how to answer that question” (page 114).  While the roles I fill are different than hers, I can still think of a long list of words to describe myself, most of which aren’t career related.

No matter our state of life, the question “What do you do?” can tempt us to oversimplify our self-worth.  To this predicament, I offer three solutions to help us begin to value ourselves differently.

The Power of Praise: Research-based ways to Encourage and Empower

Sometimes, I fail.  I don't finish my daily to-do list.  I overcook dinner.  My words fall flat, or worse, hurt someone’s feelings.  Too often, my response to myself is harsh:  I’m lazy, I am not a good cook, I’m a bad communicator.  My failures define me.

Conversely, when I succeed, I own a success as if it is a part of me.  I am a great planner, a gourmet cook, the next Madeleine L’Engle.

Praising and criticizing myself for my innate abilities can create the illusion that my successes and my failures define me and determine my worth.  That’s a lot of pressure!  Also, I am reinforcing the idea that my successes and failures are due to innate abilities, which are difficult to change. 

The good news is that our dignity is inherent, no matter how talented we are (or aren’t).  And we do have the power to try again if we want to.  So how can we use our words to remind ourselves—and others—that our successes and failures do not define us?  How can we use our words to encourage each other to keep trying even when things don’t work out the way we hope?