Lori Falce: Words matter, but actions behind their meanings don't
Oct. 20—I often lament the way people try to harness language like a horse that just needs to be broken in an attempt to solve a problem rather than addressing the problem.
Take the vocabulary surrounding people with developmental delays and other challenges. The words we have used over the years to refer to these issues and this community have changed, largely in an attempt to curb cruelty and bias.
In 1966, Pennsylvania created the Mental Health and Mental Retardation Act of 1966, a piece of legislation that codified the state's services and responsibilities. It wasn't meant to be demeaning. It was a clinical description. In 2011, the state changed the language to "intellectual disability." The act itself says only that the reason was "updating and modernizing certain terminology." The word "retardation" was too easily shortened to a sneering dismissal.
But the terminology was not the problem. The ugly motives behind it were. If the word had been the issue, it would never have been part of the largest organization advocating for this disabled community — the Arc, which stopped using the "R" word in 1992.
Such changes abound. Do we say homeless or unhoused? Does the word really matter if the person in question still is living in the street? Addict or person with substance abuse disorder? Would the language be an issue if we really looked at addiction as a disease?
These changes frequently are attributed to political correctness or blamed on "snowflakes." The fact that "mental retardation" replaced the clinically used terms "idiots," "imbeciles" and "morons" from the early 1900s says the pattern has been with us longer.
Today, social media brings us perhaps the greatest example of linguistic gymnastics with no real impact. I give you the word "unalive."
The word is a verb that means exactly what it sounds like. Killed, whether through murder or suicide. TikTok will censor or deprioritize videos that use the word "killed." Users game the system by simply replacing the real word with a creation that means exactly the same thing but in a less distasteful format.
Some people support the new use. It may foster conversations that wouldn't otherwise happen, they say. Others decry it as disrespectful to a serious topic. Both opinions are valid.
What they miss is exactly what the Pennsylvania Legislature missed in 2011 — and in 1966. Changing the words doesn't address the problem. Kids still will be mocked with that "R" word because changing the letterhead of a state agency doesn't stop bullying or abuse.
If we talk about kids unaliving themselves, we aren't preventing suicide. If we talk about kids being unalived by gun violence, the words we use don't stop the bullets.
What kids have learned is that adults pay attention to the language. They will spend time debating the pitfalls of TikTok. Social media will tweak its algorithms to accommodate those problem words that people don't want to see.
But, in the meantime, the bullying still happens, people still live on the streets, addiction is still claiming victims. And kids are still being unalived.
Lori Falce is a Tribune-Review community engagement editor. You can contact Lori at lfalce@triblive.com.
