I’ll be the first to agree with the groundswell of those who fear we’re nit-picking our language to death in the name of political correctness. Some things just are, and playing semantics is not only confusing for society at large, but not really all that helpful in clear communication. (I recently saw a reference to someone being “under-resourced” and it took me a moment to realize that the person being referenced was unemployed.)
But guys, some words are just hurtful.
Some words perpetuate stereotypes.
Some words create prejudices.
Some words need to be retired.
Even if, once upon a time, they were perfectly legitimate medical definitions. Like, for example, “retarded.”
Five years ago, I answered a phone call from a pediatric psychiatrist who had evaluated my son. It had been an agonizing session, where I was tested more thoroughly than he was. The fact was, he couldn’t participate in the assessment geared towards his physical age. As every activity, every parameter was announced, I had to press my lips together, swallow my heart and whisper, “No. No, he won’t be able to do that one, either.” The psychiatrist would smile knowingly, scribble a quick note, then scale back the test six months, a year, 18 months, until my sweet little man could finally perform whatever task was prescribed.
I left knowing it wasn’t good. I didn’t know for sure what it was, but I knew it wasn’t good.
During the follow-up call, I got the official diagnosis: mild to moderate mental retardation. In that moment, my whole world tilted on its axis to accommodate a new truth– my son is “retarded.”
The word made me flinch before; now, it brings bile into my throat.
See, I hear that word all.the.time. And it is not my boy. My son is not a car that won’t start, a box someone stubbed their toe on, a friend that makes a poor choice, a scarf that makes someone look bad, a funny face mugged for a selfie. He’s not a curse word, a slander, or a slur. He’s a little boy faced with some really huge challenges through no fault of his own. Sadly, those challenges have a label, and that label is a really ugly word people use to mock things or people.
That word also stings like hell.
So here’s the deal: sometimes there’s a learning curve involved in using language that is less offensive. I get it. We do a lot of re-education of new friends and even extended family members in reminding them the difference between a “real” mom and a biological one. Most people just don’t know when it comes to sensitive terminology that takes them out of their known quantity, and they do the best they can. Give them an alternative, and they are happy to break the habit that has tied them to the old terms.
So what can you do?
First and foremost, stop using the R-word when another word will do. Seriously, there are a whole host of adjectives that will make you sound far more educated than “retarded.” If you mean “unintelligent,” say so. If you mean, “foolish,” say so. Quit labeling things “retarded.” It’s just hurtful.
If you’re describing a person, you’ve got choices. Individual preferences will vary, but here are three options that will please most folks touched by this issue:
1. “Cognitively impaired.” What you’re saying here is that this person will not process information or behave, perhaps, on the level that their chronological age might suggest. You’re indicating a certain level of function that signals to the folks you’re communicating with that the individual will most likely present as being “different.” (“My son is cognitively impaired. He has a difficult time with cause and effect and sometimes can be rougher with other kids than he intends.”)
2. “Developmentally delayed.” Referring to adults as “developmentally delayed” is clearly not optimal, but it’s better than the r-word. This phrase fits children much better. Again, you’re conveying that whatever neurotypical development that you might assume of someone is somehow not to be expected here. (“Cody is developmentally delayed; he’s 8, but he does great in the Kindergarten Sunday School class.”)
3. Using the correct medical diagnosis. If you know that a person has Downs, there’s nothing wrong in using the term where applicable. Same thing with any other medical diagnosis– you’re actually educating others when you take the time to explain that Tommy was alcohol-exposed in utero, now has a diagnosis of Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder (FASD), and therefore functions more along the lines of a child about two years behind his age. How much more helpful is that than saying, “See Tommy over there? He’s retarded. Don’t bother trying to get him to sit still for storytime”? The caution here is that you should be reasonably certain that you have the correct terminology down before assigning a label to another human being.
In the end, there are a whole range of terms suggested by those in the special needs community. But here’s the thing: no one feels encouraged or built up or comforted by the r-word. No one. So, please, stop using it. Urge your children not to use it. Give the obnoxious store clerk the big, hairy “Did you mean to say that out loud?!?” look when she throws it out. I thank you. Countless other parents, individuals, and families thank you. Your sensitivity does matter. A lot.
Beautifully written post with great info and suggestions! I am sensitive to this as a long time teacher and with family members with diagnoses of different ways of learning/developing. Thank you for this important piece….I hope it goes viral! Sad that there are people still out there that are rude and ignorant. Well done, Heather!