Words are a big deal. What we say is a big deal.
For the past few years, my jobs have dealt with editing things: pages, pictures, design, copy and so on. It’s just me and the dreaded red ink, going to town on a poorly-written paper until it bleeds red. Jobs like that force a person to become brutally honest about what they think. A little too honest, sometimes. Ask anyone who has spent a significant amount of time with me and they will tell you I’ve said too many offensive or mean things to count.
I didn’t used to be this harsh, I promise. You know that filter people are born with that stops everything you think from spilling out of your mouth? Yeah, my filter is long gone. I have a common case of word vomit.
The best example of the gravity of words comes from my good friend Demetri Martin. (OK, I lied. He’s not my good friend — he is a famous comedian I adore. Same difference.)
In the show I saw, he said, “‘Sort of’ is such a harmless thing to say … “sort of.” It’s just a filler. Sort of … it doesn’t really mean anything. But after certain things, sort of means everything. Like … after ‘I love you’ … or ‘You’re going to live’ … or ‘It’s a boy!'”
Not only is that hilarious, it is also true.
Has anyone ever said something (good or bad) that really stuck with you? I know it has happened to me.
It was 10th grade and I was finally coming out of my grossnasty stage, thank goodness. My English teacher that year had taught my older sister two years before, so he knew both of us well. Anyway, one day in class he felt the need to say, “Nicole, you look like your sister — just the stockier version.” Whoa. Now if you don’t know what stocky means, I would love to tell you. Stocky, as defined in the dictionary, means, “of solid and sturdy form or build; thick set and, usually, short.”
Solid? Sturdy? Thick set?
Does he know how to charm a high school girl or what? As a fragile 10th grader, my biggest wish was for my male teacher to tell me I was the short, thick version of my sister. I’m a fattie — excellent.
He probably didn’t think anything of that comment and if I talked to him now, he wouldn’t even remember saying it. But nuhhh-uhhhh. I did not forget.
The problem is that I, along with most other people, am just as bad as he was. I like to be honest — hello column title. Beating around the bush and putting on a facade is not really my thing. If I am thinking something, I am just going to say it. Whether or not it is nice, politically correct or involves saying, “I’m sorry but he is just an idiot … I mean, yeah, she is OK I guess, but there’s absolutely nothing going on up here [point to my brain] … And she isn’t even, like, cute in the least bit — why would anyone want that anyway?” I am fairly confident there have been about 8,923 variations of that phrase used this semester alone.
That is just awful. If I found out someone was saying that about me, I would cry.
“The words of the reckless pierce like swords.” (Proverbs 12:18)
The things we say matter. The insults we hurl make a dent in people. We disregard the fact that calling a girl stocky will scar her for the rest of her solid and sturdy life.
Like if your girlfriend asks you if she looks fat … NEVER say yes. Not worth it. Or if your friend has an idea he or she is excited about? Do not say it’s idiotic (even if it really is). Maybe your lab partner has breath stronger than a dying animal and no matter what you do he won’t accept that piece of gum you keep offering him. Well, you still can’t tell him that he’s burning your nose hairs out one by one.
What it comes down to is that offending people is unnecessary. The people you upset won’t forget about your comment, even when you do two seconds later.
So in other words … (we’re going to end this with a case-in-point):
To the dude on #chapeltweet who wrote, “No offense, but I can’t stand the sound of her voice,” when I spoke in chapel last semester … I might have looked you up on Facebook and although my immediate response was an even ruder (and very honest) comment, I’ll take the time now to replace my missing “thought filter” and I will not say a word. (Look at me, making progress.)
