If there is one unifying lesson that we can all take away from the last two and a half years, it would have to be this: words matter.
In so many ways.
Whether it’s the difference between a detention center and a concentration camp, or the irony of how the people who say, “I like him because he says what he means” often turn out later to be the same ones who say, “That wasn’t what he really meant,” or even how fitting it is when the same people who used the power of their words to get accepted into Harvard (or other elite schools) become dismayed (and litigious) when their acceptance from Harvard is rescinded after they are caught out using the n-word, this is truly the year(s) of the word(s). And, as such, I feel that it only right that we start any discussion of the power of words with the first word many of us ever really learn: our own names. Which means I’m going to talk about addressing people as they wish to be addressed.
That’s it. Just…call people by their names. This includes using their chosen name, title, and, yes, pronoun, even when—especially when—you yourself don’t “see what all of the fuss is about.” Trust me, if the situation were reversed you would absolutely see what all of the fuss was about.
This, truly, is one of those “things I learned in kindergarten” situations; remember, when your teacher wrote their name on the board and then sounded it out so you would know how to pronounce it? Remember how you argued with them about what you thought their name or title should be, and how you churlishly refused to call them by their name or title all year long? No? You don’t? I guess that’s because you had more sense in kindergarten than you do now.
In America (and I’m assuming a lot of other places as well), the history of refusing to call people by their names is long and dark. I’m sure that there is many a grandfather alive today who can still feel the humiliation of being called “boy,” just as there are surely plenty of grandmothers who have painful memories of “girl.” (Or the even more wretched “girlie.”)
Look, everyone can make a mistake when it comes to addressing someone. Whether it is accidentally calling the long-haired gentleman in line in front of you “Ma’am,” or calling someone you just met “Steven” instead of “Steve,” mistakes happen. What matters is how you react after you have learned of your mistake.
Again, just like we learned in kindergarten, the correct thing to do is apologize and move on. The absolutely incorrect thing to do is argue about it.
Can you imagine meeting someone named Kristen and then telling them that, actually, their name is Kirsten? If you can’t, (and I hope that you can’t), then how could you imagine telling someone that, actually, they are a she?
The ironic thing is that I started this column because I was annoyed at being called “young lady” by a man half my age even after I specifically asked him to stop. It was only on reflection that I realized that what was a twice weekly occurrence for me was a daily affliction for some.
There is power in a name. Figuring out who we are, and how that enters into our relationships with other people is a huge milestone in the development of a human brain. To take that away from someone is psychologically devastating—the first thing the torturer takes from their victim is their name.
The bottom line is that it is not just “politically correct” to refer to people in the manner in which they ask to be addressed. To call them by their names. It is just normal, everyday, run-of-the-mill human decency. And, if this many years past kindergarten, someone has trouble accepting that concept, then maybe we should take away their name as well.
Because I’m sure that we can all think of a few other names we can call them in the meantime.