Retarded
This is addressed to me, but you can read it too. I’ve been thinking about this post for a while, but wasn’t planning on writing it just yet, so this may be premature.
Consider the word “premature”. It sits in the above sentence innocuously and could be passed without comment as a synonym for “undeveloped”. However I could go back and revise the sentence, or build on it, with words suggesting the metaphor of ejaculation, for humorous intent. Or I could choose additional words that suggest an early birth: This post has been gestating for a while, but wasn’t due to be written… My first thought is that this revision carries very little metaphoric weight, it’s a cliche that says little more than the sentence I did start with. My second thought is that yesterday I read a science fiction author use the word “stillborn” metaphorically for a story idea, about an hour after I read a mother’s third loss of a child. On that thought I can see how metaphors of endangered birth, intended to mean nothing, can mean something quite unintended and hurtful.
This post is difficult to write. I don’t want you to think that I’m castigating anyone or prescribing behaviour. I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of language nazi.
And there, the word “nazi”, like the word “fascist”, it slips so easily from my lips or fingers, meaning little more than “someone we don’t like because we think they may impinge on us”. But the Nazis and Fascists killed a lot of people only seventy years—one average lifetime—ago. There are Yugoslavs, Roma, homosexuals, Jehova’s Witnesses, and others who still survive from that time. For them, for their children, for others who have experienced totalitarianism and genocide—for them my casual words might be insulting.
I think about this kind of thing from time to time. Recently I’ve been thinking about the kind of language I would like to hear my children use. The words I don’t want my children growing up saying. Sophie’s post on emotional triggers was the inspiration for this post.
My big ‘button’ at the moment is the word “Retarded” (or spastic). This is a nasty word that has been used for so long to describe the ‘stupid’, used as a deep insult. So ingrained it seems that people don’t even really understand what it means. A friend of mine, one that recently had a baby girl, posted a “How retarded are you?” quiz on face.book and of course it popped up on my screen for me to see… glaring and insolent and so very, very insulting.
It’s true that adults have used it for so long that they don’t really understand what it means. The repetition renders it a cliche: invisible and intentionally empty.
I remember understanding what it means. Children understand what it means. They are sensitive to the things adults would rather not talk about. They are keenly aware of difference and power imbalance. They know that the mentally or physically disabled are socially stigmatised. They don’t just think the word “retard” means “I don’t like you”, they know what it refers to. You can see it in the other words they use. When I was a child we used “retard” and “spastic” and “Minda” and “Christie” as insults. We knew. There were times when mentally or physically disabled children went to school with us and we gave them hell. Adult silence sanctioned us and we grew into their silence, which is the continuation of these insults—but not in front of the children, well sometimes it just slips out, it’s amazing what kids pick up…
When Sophie’s friend posted his quiz, she called him on it, but got no reply. It’s the silence that causes the problem. It’s the not wanting to think about it. We make mistakes, we fuck up (I recall accidentally saying “fuck” in front of this friend’s child and being asked not to; but this post isn’t about him: please excuse me exampling him), we do not intend harm, we were brought up that way; that’s to be expected. I use the word “retard” to mean “stupid” or just “silly”. When I read about the pain of people with mental or physical disability who suffer because of this I feel guilty. Guilt makes me feel bad, which makes me defensive, which makes me silent, which makes me wait for the people’s pain to just go away. Guilt drives me to act innocent. The real guilt I should feel is for my silence. Mistakes should be corrected. I cannot change the past, but I can negotiate the future. In that negotiation lies my children’s future.
Consider other words that children use as insults. “Gay”. “Slut”. “Psycho”. Don’t think they mean nothing. Think about it. I think, I think I will not be able to stop my children learning bad words. I should think about teaching them to respond sensitively and appropriately when other people call them on those words. I should think about the silence I don’t want my children growing up saying.
By Thorne Lawler, 13 hours, 21 minutes after the fact
There are three ways I’m inclined to come at this:
First, Thank you. I don’t think I could put this as eloquently, even if I do disagree on some subtleties. As english speakers we’re privilileged to speak a very lithe young natural language, bursting with the kind of vibrant ambiguous heavily loaded baggage that only centuries of warfare and cultural brutality can instill. It behooves us to use our powerful, dangerous language responsibly. To this end, it’s always a good idea to talk about langauge like this.
Second, to agree: This worries me too, every time I talk to a child. Below a certain age, the very act of talking to a child is an act of creation; re-creating this language as it will be spoken and understood henceforth, as well as creating the subtle fabric of the semantic glove through which this child will perform the most important acts of their life. I always try to be honest, patient and painfully linguistically precise with small children, because it seems like the responsible thing to do.
Third and last, I’m inclined to poke gentle fun: What bizzarre misconception gives you, as an author or a speaker, the idea that you control the meaning of what you say?
I can be deeply offended (if I want) by your use of the phrase “gave them hell” as it seems to imply that you and your peers led other children to become eternally damned! You’re unlikely to retract your statement to placate my hypothetical fringe religious hyper-sensitivity though, and there’s the rub: the vast majority of statements are offensive and hurtful to someone, and in some contexts (such as this one, or the context of writing a stupid facebook quiz) you have no selective control of your audience! Thus, while the anonymous quiz-sender was clearly insensitive to send this quiz to Sophie, I will defend my right to use dangerous, heavily loaded language in a public context because causing offense and being misunderstood are unavoidable consequences of public discourse. Besides, I thought you were proudly post-structuralist, Mr G, so to paraphrase Tina Turner, what’s authorial intent got to do with it?
By David Golding, 13 hours, 53 minutes after the fact
I do not claim total control over the meaning of what I say: I do not always know what I mean, and you do not always know what I mean: I am bewildered that you thought I was promoting an intentional theory of language in my post when it is explicitly about multivalence and misunderstanding. This is why we must keep talking to get at what is “meant”. That is why I protest the foreclosure of discourse. It ill behoves us to pretend to be dead authors in a conversation.
By Sophie, 19 hours, 28 minutes after the fact
You know, I was going to say something but I can’t be bothered now. I understand what you mean Dave and thankyou. You understood perfectly the point I was trying to make was that silence was not the way to respond. Anything would have been preferable.
Thorne, you can continue on being as insensitive as you like and defend your right to do so. All I did was defend my right to call people out on it. And thus we have an understanding, one that can’t be achieved through silence.
By Sophie, 19 hours, 35 minutes after the fact
Not that I mean you ARE insensitive Thorne, but you are certainly claiming the right to be so.
By Aaron Legg, 21 hours, 47 minutes after the fact
There really are only two things you can do if you have accidentally offended someone.
1)Make matters worse by pretending that nothing has happened, be silent and let the people who have found your words offensive stay offended, further upset people by invalidating their feelings by not listening. By not responding to them you make the people offended feel you don’t care and you are showing others that it is ok to be offensive.
2) Respond to the people who through no fault of your own you have offended in some way. Never underestimate the value of saying something as simple as “Thats not what meant.” or “I meant no offense”. You don’t need to admit fault and say “I’m sorry “ if you don’t want to, but responding goes a long way in making the offended parties at least feel that they have been heard.
Why should the way you respond to an offended people differ when you are in the same room with them compared to when you are not?
By Mike, 1 day, 23 hours after the fact
The sad part about the misuse of the word retard is that you shouldn’t have to have a family member with special needs to understand how hurtful it is. Unfortunately that’s just not the case. I don’t want to take away your right to use the word. I’m just hoping that once you understand how dehumanizing it is you’ll choose another.
By Mike, 1 day, 23 hours after the fact
I cannot change the past, but I can negotiate the future. In that negotiation lies my children’s future.
Sorry, I forgot to mention how powerful this is! Thanks.
By Thorne lawler, 4 days, 8 hours after the fact
Eeeep! No wonder I never hear replies to my comments here and thank goodness I checked! Dave, your blog doesn’t mail commenters when people add replies! If it seems to you like otherwise reasonable people keep leaving one off comments rather than engaging in dialog, this could be why…
Sorry if anyone here in the relatively personal forum took offense at what I said under “third and lastly”, especially with regard to post modern discourse; something I am almost completely ignorant about. I’d hoped that the word ‘poking’ would illustrate my intent to gently troll there.
And Sophie, just to clarify, I think the use of this kind of language in facebook is offensive: whoever sent you that quiz would have needed only an instant’s thought to see it. My point is that we cannot (as much) blame the author of the quiz, since they don’t know you at all, and were thus not taking your feelings into account when writing it. Were they making careless, inappropriate use of the word generally? Maybe.
If I find myself with lots of time on my hands, I may have to go back through my comments here and see what replies I’ve missed…
By Sophie, 4 days, 13 hours after the fact
Thorne, I wasn’t having a go at the author of the quiz (who I expect is some foolish and thoughtless child) but rather having a go at the friend who sent it to me. Yes I have to put up with anonymous people in the world being insensitive all the time, that I understand quite well (doesn’t mean I have to like it). The point I was making was that I shouldn’t have to put up with it coming from friends who know me and know about my daughter (despite their obvious forgetting of her at the time).
I would like to raise another interesting question in response to this discussion. Had my daughter survived would that have made the quiz being sent to me by a friend any more or less offensive and if so why? Think about it. Had she lived people would have leapt to my defense I suspect and this friend would have been frowned upon, forgiven but chastised, but as she is dead they chose not to and it appears I am the one at fault for emotionally responding to his thoughtlessness. Apparently I ought to have been restrained and emailed him privately. Personally I think that line of thinking is ridiculously unfair and as Dave says it all comes down to fear. Fear of dead babies.
For me the fact that my daughter is dead is irrelevant to this particular argument. Had she lived we’d be just as pissed off.
And Mike is completely right. It should not take having a family member with a disability for people to understand how offensive this particular word is. However that being said, it was the fuel for my emotional response to the offense and I make no apology for it, especially if his response is to cover his ears, sing lalalala, and pretend I said nothing at all.
I really ought to blog this myself but oh well. Moving on. Moot point.
I did rather think you missed the point with your first post Thorne but it’s clear to me now that you didn’t quite understand what we were talking about. No offence taken.
By Sophie, 4 days, 15 hours after the fact
Besides, Thorne, Dave is agreeing with you that unintentionally offending people is going to happen in life no matter how hard you try not to. The point he was trying to make was that responding better to someone’s upset, rather than burying your head in the sand, is what should really be focused on. And I completely agree with that. I didn’t need an apology: deletion of the offending quiz would have sufficed, an ‘oops’ would have sufficed…
By Polly, 4 days, 22 hours after the fact
Hi Sophie, you’ve made a reference to a conversation we had about this issue here, so I’m going to reply here, too (hope you don’t mind, Dave). I’m sorry my comment to you about emailing him privately about the quiz could be taken to mean that I think you’re at fault for being upset by his original post. I honestly didn’t mean it that way - but on reflection, I understand why comments such as the one I made to you could be interpreted that way, and why that is upsetting and hurtful. I only meant to suggest that it might have been a more effective way of communicating with him, and not that you had no right to be angry and upset by his post, or no right to let him know how you feel. I’m sorry for any offense my comments to you have caused.
By Sophie, 6 days, 10 hours after the fact
Sorry Polly, I only mentioned it here because I took it to mean that others felt the same way and I wanted to point out that I didn’t agree with that line of thinking. I will admit that that particular conversation has been mulling over in my mind this last week and has made me think long and hard.