My first lesson in the power of cussing and curse words was when I was 4. I heard my dad yell, “Shit!” while working under the car hood. Later that day, I repeated the word in the presence of my mom. I had no idea what the word meant, only that I liked how strong and declarative it sounded. My mom told me it was a "bad word." I realized then that words weren't just neutral. Words had the power to reflect emotions, affect people, and create meaning.
Later as an adolescent, I was surrounded by peers testing out cuss words at every opportunity. We delighted in the shock value and rebellious nature of profanity. There was a precision of expression that was needed to accurately express our angst and anger. Dialogue in the halls and locker rooms were spiced with words like fuck and all its variations, which seemed appropriate for the daily drama of middle school.
My college roommate, a very pretty and tall girl from Malaysia, cussed like a sailor. She wasn’t even mad. Bitch and asshole were commonplace in our conversations about school, boys, and what the dining hall was serving for breakfast. Her flippant use of profanity made me laugh, and I picked up more colorful language from her.
Now I am an adult, married with kids, with a calling as a Christian minister. Given my present life stage, my moments of swearing are severely limited. I don’t relish cussing nearly as much as I used to. But I’ll admit there are some moments when I take great pleasure and satisfaction in vocalizing a well-timed, correctly appropriated “Shit.”
Later as an adolescent, I was surrounded by peers testing out cuss words at every opportunity. We delighted in the shock value and rebellious nature of profanity. There was a precision of expression that was needed to accurately express our angst and anger. Dialogue in the halls and locker rooms were spiced with words like fuck and all its variations, which seemed appropriate for the daily drama of middle school.
My college roommate, a very pretty and tall girl from Malaysia, cussed like a sailor. She wasn’t even mad. Bitch and asshole were commonplace in our conversations about school, boys, and what the dining hall was serving for breakfast. Her flippant use of profanity made me laugh, and I picked up more colorful language from her.
Now I am an adult, married with kids, with a calling as a Christian minister. Given my present life stage, my moments of swearing are severely limited. I don’t relish cussing nearly as much as I used to. But I’ll admit there are some moments when I take great pleasure and satisfaction in vocalizing a well-timed, correctly appropriated “Shit.”
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