Language matters — all the time, but especially now. The dialogues we are having, informally and formally, in person and on social media, are too important to be thwarted by surface-level misunderstandings and petty misuse of words and phrases. Unfortunately, this happens all too often.
One of the more troublesome examples which comes to mind is the word “violence.” According to Merriam-Webster, “violence” (n.) is “the use of physical force to harm someone, to damage property, etc.” The words “physical force” are key here — many of my peers seem to be strangely unfamiliar with this definition.
The following is an excerpt from Christine Rosen’s article, “Campus Safety and the Will to Power”:
“People who live in genuinely unsafe environments have a different understanding of fear and safety. ‘Speaking as a veteran who saw combat, and who had friends killed and wounded,’ wrote former U.S. Marine Chris Martin in the Atlantic, ‘it is difficult for me to reconcile the idea that campuses are not ‘safe spaces’ for students. To me, a ‘safe space’ is one in which no one is actively trying to kill you.’”
It baffles me that some college students can, in good conscience, sit on a comfortable chair in a well-heated and well-lit room, in a building accessible only to those with a school ID, on a campus constantly patrolled by safety officers, surrounded by those of their peers who care enough about the cause at hand to take the time to attend this discussion group/forum/etc., and claim that they feel unsafe. Someone dares to make a comment even slightly outside of the dominant narrative, and that brave individual is met with the response, “Your words are violent.”
For all our sensitivity about appropriation, no one seems to mind that to equate emotional or intellectual discomfort to physical assault and injury exploits the pain of those who have suffered, or continue to suffer, actual violence. The shock value which comes from statements like these is perhaps useful in making one’s voice heard, but these statements are, in the simplest of terms, self-centered, narrow-minded, and childish. Feeling “safe” only when everyone in the room agrees with you and constantly affirms your experiences and beliefs shows a colossal lack of perspective.
Most people understand that rape jokes are wrong, as they make light of an incredibly somber issue, one which is acutely personal and continuously traumatizing to many people. The frivolous perversion of the language surrounding other types of physical violence is no different.
Feelings do not need to be overstated or dramatized with inaccurate language to be worth something. A statement does not need to be called “violent” for it to be truthfully malicious, angry, distressing, exasperating, resentful, etc. These words are valid, too. If you feel hurt by someone’s comment, say so. Rather than jumping to false, conversation-stopping adjectives such as “unsafe,” articulate why you feel the way you feel, carefully and correctly, using some of the countless words in the English language which will accurately define the situation.
The sensitive discussions about race, gender, class, sexuality, religion, and mental health of which I speak are happening in the name of progress. Effective use of language is essential to progress, and to claim that someone is being “violent” because their comment offends you in some capacity inhibits work towards positive change in many ways.
I have already mentioned how improper use of this vocabulary is inconsiderate of survivors of true violence; another harmful effect is the inevitable end it brings to any useful conversation. In declaring that they feel “unsafe,” a person is writing off the entire situation as toxic. Not only will that person no longer be receptive to new ideas, but everyone else present will be expected to tiptoe around the offending subject.
Important conversations must not be hindered by this upsetting and strange phenomenon — get a dictionary if you must. Speak from your own experiences rather than exploiting the painful realities of others.
