Not Just the R- Word, the F-word, Too

UPDATED: October 24, 2014, at 1:26 a.m.

Sitting in Annenberg with my morning coffee, about to read The Crimson cover to cover (as all Harvard students do), I caught sight of an op-ed calling on students to avoid using the “R-Word.” I concur. But I want to take it one step further.

Over the past month, I’ve been asked to introduce myself by way of my given name, dorm, and hometown. I’ve also been asked to share the significance of my name, my ice cream of choice, my spirit animal, and my favorite word. For your information, my name is Leni (it was my grandmother’s nickname), I live in Grays, I’m from the DC area, I enjoy a tub or two of mint Oreo ice cream when I’m feeling down (or up for that matter), I identify with lions, and last but definitely not least my favorite word is “fucktard.” In fact, I have an affinity for all curse words.

I’m the youngest in a big family. I learned growing up that the later I managed to stay up, the more “bad words” I’d hear. To be fair, in my family, the not-so-nice synonym for fecal matter and the word that sounds like what beavers build aren’t considered all that bad. I was never told to put a nickel in the swear jar or go to my room for using the full breadth of my extensive vocabulary.

Still, I felt my parents expected me to reserve the use of particular naughty words for special occasions. I didn’t tell my brother to “go eff himself” when he left a mess in the bathroom—a misdemeanor of that sort didn’t warrant that particular linguistic flourish. No, I reserved so special a phrase for when he left a mess in the bathroom, and no hot water in the pipes. My parents understood the gravity of a situation such as having to take a cold shower and never said anything more than “stop shouting” if they overheard my brother and me exchange a few filthy words outside our bathroom door.

Here at Harvard, however, where so many of us are away from home for the first time, some people are taking far too much advantage of being out from their parents’ watchful eye and prying ear. They eat frosted flakes for lunch, stay up way too late, and swear like sailors.

The words don’t offend me, but they’re beginning to bore me. Did the person I ran into at Hillel who didn’t realize I was Jewish really need to ask, “What the f(iretr)uck are you doing here?” Wouldn’t “What are you doing here?” have sufficed? (I mean, it’s Harvard, and my last name is Hirsch; the F may have been warranted if we ran into each other at Catholic mass… but a Hillel lunch?) Similarly, does the kid in my entryway really not give a damn about who won the latest UC election, or does he just not care?

The distinction is important to me because I fear these special words in our language don’t pack enough of a punch anymore; they’re losing their shock value—which is actually their total value. Our prolific use of dirty language makes us seem coarse and jaded at best, and uncreative in our ability to express ourselves at worst. The vast majority of the time, we could find a better way to express a sentiment. So why not opt to save those special words for when they’ll actually make an impact?

And isn’t there something nice about having a body of words that isn’t for frequent, public use? Do you really want the words to become so commonplace that someone comes in for an interview thirty years from now and drops the F-bomb as if it’s nothing? There’s worth in having words that are meant to be used with a knowing tone between you and your best friends over a glass of whiskey or game of cards, or to use with your enemy so they know just how much you despise them.

So, I’m seconding the op-ed’s call for Harvard students to use a different word in place of the R-Word. But I’m also calling for us to consider our choice of language more broadly, especially when it comes to my favorite words. Not only will a reduction of usage in these words make every day conversation more civil, but it will also make the not so everyday conversation that much more meaningful.

Leni M.G. Hirsch ’18, a Crimson editorial comper, lives in Grays Hall.

CORRECTION: October 24, 2014

An earlier version of this article incorrectly identified the author as a member of the Class of 2016. In fact, she is a member of the Class of 2018.