serial ascetic: swearing

by Jacki Lewin

Some would argue that swearing is a victimless crime, yet others find it offensive enough to justify censorship in television, music and film. When a celebrity manages to swear on a live television broadcast, it makes national headlines; when the Vice President is caught doing so, it becomes legend. Men excuse themselves when they do so in front of women. One would assume based on observation that swearing is a serious social transgression.

Yet, the content of our speech marks our personalities more than anything else. Leaving aside the aggressive use of swear words — the barbs directed at and intended to insult another person — we are left with what is often called “colorful language.” And in this case I ask, what is the big deal? What is the difference between one word and another? Does swearing only matter if someone is around to hear it? Is avoiding profanity mere politeness to others or is it a matter of self-respect and moral standards, akin to having proper hygiene?

I decided to find out what a week without swearing would do to my language, conversation and sanity. A bit of background: I like swearing and I do it often; it doesn’t bother me when other people do so and I’m not of the opinion that it lowers my character, despite being raised in a society that tells me the opposite. Also, I can successfully self-censor when I’m around small children, your grandmother or a prospective employer. Yet with my friends, in my normal relaxed state, it is altogether different. And let me tell you, much harder.

There is undeniably something fun, something illicit, about speaking profanities. We love learning swears in new languages, entire books are in fact published on the subject. We love hearing our parents swear. There is a social taboo being broken, one that lets us feel like we’re all in this together. In swearing, we tell each other that it’s OK, that we all have frustrations — and the relief, the release, of expressing this verbally is unparalleled.

My rules were as follows: I would adhere to a Disney-movie vocabulary, yet not restrict the subject matter of my conversations. I started on a Saturday while in Morocco with two of my best friends. We spent the day walking around the city, then hopped on a plane and flew back to Spain, going straight from the airport to another friend’s birthday party which turned into a night on the town.

Not an easy start. Perhaps I should have begun with a day relaxing on the beach, alone. Combining a third-world country, international travel, old friends, and a night of debauchery is probably not the best way to jump into a G-rated lexicon. The first day I swore ten times, at least two of which were in frustration immediately after having sworn a first time.

An example: “What kind of fucking airport doesn’t sell newspapers? …. SHIT!”

I found this asceticism to be infinitely more difficult than giving up money. Altering one’s speech requires constant vigilance; you cannot just leave your mouth at home and see what happens. It is surprising how little control we actually have of what comes out of our mouths. Even giving it my all, I slipped up many times. Here’s the tally:

So, you see, it ebbs and flows. While by the middle of the week I had grown accustomed — semi-naturally replacing “shit” with “shoot” and so forth — there is no hedging against the unexpected: the train doors that slam in front of your face as you run across the platform, the stubbed toe — all of the assorted surprises that cause your voice to get the best of you. Despite your best intentions you will swear, probably loudly.

Mostly, I found not swearing to be extremely dull. If our personalities are revealed in our speech then I found it difficult for mine to emerge using a vanilla vocabulary. I bored myself; I like swearing too much. I was reminded of Omar, the character on “The Wire,” who, despite having made a life of stealing from drug dealers using a double-barreled shotgun, being widely feared on the hard streets of Baltimore, and having a personality so singular and expressive to be completely unparalleled, he is able to achieve all this without any profanity. It’s not that personality can’t exist without swearing, it’s that changing up your language in such a way is stifling to a degree that much creativity and time are necessary in order to recover. I needed more than a week to see if it could work for me.

So what did I learn from this? For one thing, altering speech is much harder than altering behavior; talking turns out to be a semi-conscious act, much further from control than expected. And perhaps I do swear too much. It’s true that we all use verbal tics and crutches, and maybe swearing is just as bad as saying “like” too much — and some would say, just as telling of social class. A week spent closely examining one’s speech is an interesting exercise, and perhaps should lead to a more thoughtful lexis. Yet I was fucking glad when it was over.

tagged under:language