By Tabitha Parent–
On the off chance that you find yourself the unfortunate victim of a time travel machine malfunction, cracking open the most recent edition of the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) is a perfect way to determine just what era you’ve landed in (unless, of course, it’s pre-humanity; in that case, good luck and say hi to the dinosaurs for me).
For the past 300,000 years, language has constantly been evolving. In just the most recent March 2022 update of the OED, over 700 words, senses, and phrases were added to the dictionary. And now, in what is arguably the most connected time ever (thanks to the internet), language is scrambling to keep up with the generation that was born knowing how to shorten even the shortest words into text-speak. Seriously, only in 2022 can the actual @ sign be added to the dictionary and mean something (don’t @ me on that one, though).
Don’t get me wrong—I think having a specific word in the dictionary for the type of picture you take with your front-facing camera is fantastic. Try explaining what a “selfie” is to a Victorian-era child, why don’t you?
But, because our dictionaries are in a constant state of update, I’ve found that it means Gen Z, in particular, spends a lot more time talking about what words mean than actually using them correctly. As a result, one of my generation’s most significant weaknesses is our tendency to focus on the right way to say something rather than the most efficient and understandable way.
Take, for example, conversations I’ve had in my ethics class in college. There was a lot of chatter about whether individuals without houses should be called “homeless” or “houseless” or “people without homes,” but not much discussion about how we could work on getting them those homes.
The question of pronouns would come up more often than I could count as people stressed about what signs were on bathroom doors rather than stressing over what policies would ensure that people could use the bathroom that they felt most comfortable in. I heard acronyms tossed around willy-nilly, and labels we’d come up with for different marginalized groups in our society were hurled around the room like rocks in a fight for who could be more p.c.
Nothing is more frustrating than listening to a group of people who all agree with each other argue about the minutia. I know parents are always blaming things on social media and “those damn phones,” but for once, I have to agree (even though I love TikTok). The algorithms that dictate our TikTok and Instagram feeds grew up with us and morphed into our own personal echo chambers over the years.
This isn’t to say that I find using the “correct” language wrong or stupid, or insignificant. In no way is it. I know the difference it makes when you make it known that you are a safe, inclusionary person. It isn’t any skin off my back to have my pronouns in my email signature, and God help you if it is skin off yours because then we have bigger issues. We should all strive to use the terms that individuals feel most comfortable with, especially when they ask us to. People deserve to feel safe around us.
But we also need to spend less time debating specifics with each other and getting bogged down in linguistic lunacy and more time working on actual action items—items that will ensure that members of marginalized groups that we claim to support have the rights and freedoms that they deserve.
I guarantee you that the people who think that same-sex marriage shouldn’t be legal or that transgender people shouldn’t be allowed to use the bathroom they identify with are more than happy to debate with you about the intricacies of pronouns and terminology. They know that these debates distract you from focusing on the real issues like enacting policies that will protect same-sex marriage, policies that will ensure that transgender children can partake in sports, and policies that will prohibit gender or sexuality-based discrimination.
So yes, make sure that the language that you use is inclusionary. Please make sure you are respectful of others and their identities. But don’t get stuck disputing the semantics before you try to solve the problems at the root of the struggle.
Tabitha Parent was born and raised in San Francisco and has just completed her first year of college at Boston College. In the fall, she will be a sophomore at Northwestern University studying journalism at the Medill School of Journalism. In her free time, she enjoys writing poetry and running on trails in the Presidio.
Published on July 14, 2022
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