Use vs. Mention and the You-Know-Who Complex

I have always been very interested in the discourse surrounding the use of terms vs. the mention of terms. On a basic level, the difference between the two is like the difference between saying "he's stupid" and saying "Marion said, 'He's stupid.'" In the first case, I would be using the word "stupid" to describe "he." In the second instance, I would be mentioning the use, which usually has occurred, will occur, or is hypothetical. With use, I am using the word to refer to what it signifies: the quality of being unintelligent, with the connotations that implies. With mention, I use the word only to signify itself: the actual word "stupid." The latter, in theory, allows me to distance myself from the word, and if someone takes issue with the fact that I said "stupid," I can easily point out that the grammatical structure indicates that I did not actually use it, even though I uttered it. Although not all examples of mentions will be formatted this way, every time I used quotation marks in this paragraph, I provided an example of a mention.

The dichotomy of use vs. mention is not this simple, however.I have heard a number of arguments that claim to mention is still to use. These arguments are particularly valid in terms of perpetuating the continued use of problematic language (which, during this article, will often be represented by the word "stupid"). In mentioning a word or phrase, one causes others to be exposed to it. That exposure further engrains the concept into the psyche, thus perpetuating thoughts and utterances of the problematic language, and more importantly, the attitudes that make the language an issue in the first place.

But what about replacement words? If I say "he's an S-word person" instead of "he's stupid," what kind of utterance is it? It could be classified as a use, albeit indirect, of the word it replaces. Within the context of the sentence, if I say "S-word" (or more realistically, if the language being replaced is a form of cursing, "darn it" or "gosh")¹, most members of the audience of my statement know what I really meant. In knowing what word or phrase I am replacing, the audience is still having that concept brought to mind, and it is still problematic for the reasons outlined previously.

Using replacement terms for problematic language also creates a dynamic that I, with no copyright infringement intended, deem the "Voldemort/You-Know-Who complex." Using replacement words does not rid the statement of any meaning other than perhaps the violence of exposure to the language if it is a shocking term. However, people often recognize on some level both the shock of that exposure and the basic reasons for problematic language to be something not to use. That's why we so often choose to use replacement words instead of the "real thing." Unfortunately, those efforts are in vain beyond the reasons already listed. In fact, in a sense, the use of replacement words could be deemed even worse than uttering the original term. By saying "S-word" instead of "stupid," or "You-Know-Who" instead of "Voldemort,"² we empower the problematic language. By glossing over the precise words but still using a term whose meaning is understood, we invoke the meaning behind the language we are disguising and acknowledge a sense of helplessness to move beyond that particular meaning entirely. That helplessness that we communicate only serves to perpetuate the invasiveness and power of the reasons the original term is such a problem.

"So, author, what can I do? You're telling me I shouldn't use problematic language—fair enough. But I can't even mention the language? And I can't replace it with another term that means almost the same thing but offends people less?" Yes, I do realize that my thesis here is placing a lot of limitations on what a responsible, thoughtful person might want to choose to communicate if that person finds these arguments to have validity. That is a lot of weight to place on our shoulders—but we need that weight there.

What solution do I propose? It's a complex one, and it requires frequent self-examination and careful thought about the way we communicate. I propose we choose not to dance around problematic language. We need to avoid the linguistic structures in which they function altogether. We must, through the power of our linguistic choices, create new frameworks in which to consider topics that are currently being frozen in the harmful discourse and harmful-but-disguised discourse in which we currently participate.

^{1 Throughout this article, I occasionally use cursing as an example of problematic language, but I should point out that cursing is not always validly classified as such, nor is all problematic language a form of cursing. I actually am mostly considering oppressive language with this article, but I tried to keep it fairly vague because it is applicable in a wide variety of situations.
2 You're welcome, book worms.}