Envy Man Magazine Online

by: tommoilanen
illustration by: ericjones

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.

Remember that little school yard maxim? It functioned as a reminder to generations of children that they shouldn’t get too upset over name-calling or insults and to buck up in the face of adversity. It also served, perhaps, as a call to weed out the trivial and emphasize that which is really important. But maybe its most practical application came from the way it separated actions from language and acknowledged that the former has more power than the latter.

Not anymore.

A funny thing happened on the way to adulthood. In the twentyfive or so years I have been one (chronologically, anyway), that multifaceted paradigm was flipped upside down to the point where we now grant more power to what people say than to what they do. This is dangerously deceptive in that not only is it the proverbial wolf in sheep’s clothing, but it portrays the sheep as more treacherous than the wolf.

I’d be much more upset if someone shot me than if someone said they were going to shoot me.

Mel Gibson? He stated his opinion. So did Michael Richards, at least inadvertently. How about Isaiah Washington? He spoke the truth. Yet all three suffered damaged reputations, offered forced apologies, and even checked into some sort of “rehab” due to what they said.

All because our culture has developed the world’s tightest sphincter when it comes to language. And I think I know why.

Self-appointed activists that claim to represent certain groups– whether black, gay, Jewish or whatever–have made successful attempts at placing certain words off limits in an effort to allegedly stop the spread of negative stereotypes. While this is no great revelation, the curious part is that individual members of these groups use those words amongst one another all the time with no harm done.

I realize the counterargument to this is that these are “marginalized” groups who wanted to take the sting out of these words by using them; in essence, taking them back. Black folks can call each other “nigger,” gay guys can call each other “queer,” and lesbians can call each other “dyke,” but let someone else do it and all hell breaks loose.

Here’s my take: the advocates for these groups are the ones who spread the notion that certain words are bad, not the individuals themselves. When a white person uses the word “nigger,” it’s generally other white folks that get upset. Your everyday black guy on the street isn’t nearly as rattled as the white liberal who wishes to feel morally superior to the white person that uttered the term.

Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton, of course, go on national television, bow their heads, and mumble some nonsense about “what a sad, sad time this is” and that “the nation needs to heal.” But they’re the ones in charge, and as such benefit by perpetuating a black underclass so they can avoid working a real job. And the proof is in the obviously lackadaisical attitude of those they supposedly represent; i.e., “who died and made you God?”

This is one of several reasons why we should be suspicious of those who speak for us. Does the gay leadership really give a hoot about gay people, or are they using them as poster children to pad their checking account? And by “leadership” I don’t mean local and area organizational figureheads. I mean the big guns that do it on a national level. The small-time activists are merely pawns who buy into the claptrap and spread it around. But those in the driver’s seat? I don’t think for one minute they believe their own baloney.

“Words,” notes George Carlin, “are completely neutral. It’s the context that makes them good or bad.” Good point. But why, then, do we see grown adults sitting behind the anchor desk reporting about someone who used “the ‘n’ word?” Isn’t that insane? They wouldn’t be using the word in any context whatsoever were they to use it, except to analyze and describe a situation. In that particular vernacular it is impartial.

Yet, like little children giggling over the ‘f’ word, they call it “the ‘n’ word.” It is not meant as an insult, it is not meant as a slur, it is not meant as anything other than an honest assessment of an incident that probably isn’t even worth discussing. But nevertheless it’s beyond taboo. And that defies formal logic, if not common sense.

Unless, of course, someone has something to gain. Consider how much power you would have if you could force people to not use certain words? Or to make them use others of your choosing? I’ve fumbled around this planet long enough to have seen new words slither into our national vocabulary and others wiggle out. And–aside from pop culture trends–it isn’t by accident. It’s because someone made it happen.

Pay attention to media and notice how frequently the lead story is about something somebody said. Murders, rapes and robberies happen all the time, yet they take a back seat to an alleged offense of the tongue. I can’t speak for other gay guys, but I’d much rather be called a “faggot” than have my wallet stolen. But our premeditated hypersensitivity to language has made the benign seem malignant and the malignant seem benign.

Interestingly, this is a relatively new development. I came of age in the 1970s in a small town in the middle of nowhere that many big city “progressives” would consider hickish, backwards, redneck, racist, homophobic, and bigoted. They would sneer at that culture and call it oppressive, unenlightened, ignorant, and intolerant. But in many ways it was much more open and free and unrestricted than the metropolitan areas today, and one of the primary reasons for this is it was not bound by the shackles of constrained language.

I was a somewhat nerdy, chunky kid with thick glasses who played piano and liked theater. Do you think maybe I suffered a verbal taunt or two in my day? Of course I did. But was my fragile little ego damaged or my delicate diminutive psyche injured or my precious adolescent feelings hurt? Maybe. For about two minutes. Then that old adage about “sticks and stones” kicked in and reminded me what was important and what wasn’t. It also helped me turn into an adult that a friend recently called “practically inoffendable.”

That’s a compliment of the highest order. If only it could be said of the country that was once described as “the land of the free and the home of the brave.”

{EM}