Let Us Say What We Really Mean

On the one hand, we have, "Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me." And on the other hand we have, "The pen is mightier than the sword." So which is true(r)? In Aldous Huxley's Brave New World, the main character's friend, Helmholtz, who is a writer and writing professor, says, "Words can be like X-rays, if you use them properly--they'll go through anything. You read and you're pierced." What an amazing word choice, pierced! A few weeks ago, I held one of my students after school to have a talk with him about his language in my class. (He enjoys dropping f-bombs every now and then to make his intense displeasure with English class known to all.) He seemed shocked. "They're just words," he spat with disdain. "We're the ones who decide if they're 'good' or 'bad' and what they mean. They're just a bunch of letters and sounds put together." It could have been a wonderful philosophical conversation if it had been anyone else sitting in the chair next to me, someone who maybe wasn't slumped down, bouncing his leg with fury, and looking at me like he wanted to kill me.


I am, as I've said, an English teacher. As such, I have a (mild) obsession with words. I am constantly calling my students out for confusing there, their, and they're; your and you're; to, too, and two. "These are different words, guys! They MEAN something! They're not just some slapdash assemblage of morphemes!" This is usually when I get a sarcastic remark that lets me know that no normal person uses words like "slapdash" or "assemblage" and that I shouldn't expect them to know what the heck a "morpheme" is since they'll never, ever, ever use that word in real life. (Actually, words are kind of arbitrary, but that's a linguistic discussion that my high school seniors are not prepared for.) I'm the guy who has been known to make posts on Facebook like the following: "Hey, word nerds, what's the difference between acme, zenith, and apex?" or "Can anyone explain to me the connotations of 'insolent,' 'rude,' and 'impertinent'?" Yeah. I'm that guy. I type words into online etymology dictionaries all the time. Just for fun! (Did you know that the Latin root of the word "terrific" indicated something that inspired terror or fear and wasn't used to mean "excellent" or "wonderful" until 1888??) I amaze my students with explanations of where the words they take for granted actually come from. ("Did you know, kids, that the word 'egregious' used to mean the exact opposite of its current meaning? Isn't that awesome? Yes? Hello?" *crickets chirping*)

Words communicate where we're from; they indicate what our socio-economic status is; they advertise our worldview to anyone who hears us. Words have been used to marginalize and segregate. Words have been weapons used to beat people into submission. The withholding of words makes slaves of people to those who control words and language, viz., the Roman Catholic Church and its insistence on using Latin exclusively for its scriptures for 1,200-ish years. Like it or not, words have power. It may seem like a small thing to many, may seem ridiculously obvious to others, but words also have meaning. Sometimes, words have several meanings, subtle connotations, layers upon layers of complexity. We tend to echo words that sound nice, that seem inclusive, that seem loving.

I'm going to say something radical: I do not want anyone's tolerance, and I do not want anyone's acceptance.  I know so many people mean well when they use these words. I'm sure no one thinks about how exclusionary they actually are. I'm assuming people aren't aware of the hierarchy of power these words perpetuate. (Forgive us, for we know not what we do!) The way I see it, we need to do two things: first, we need to understand what these words really mean, and second, we need to choose words that fully convey what we mean to convey. So put your seat belts and learning caps on, kids!

The middle school in my district has a several weeks-long "Tolerance Unit" for the eighth-graders. This, the teachers proudly beam, builds empathy and a broader knowledge of the world and its diversity. We hear all the time that we should "exercise more tolerance" for people who are different than us. But tolerance, although it works fine for a parent who is chiding a toddler ("I will not tolerate your temper tantrums!"), is a terrible philosophy for how we should view people who are different than us.

We tolerate things we do not like, do not agree with, or do not believe in. I tolerate that one of my students has no concept of personal space and insists on standing five inches from my face to talk to me. I tolerate that my friend is and will always be late to every single thing we do together. "To tolerate" is synonymous with "to put up with." (Think back to the chiding parent example.) The word tolerance also has a very distinct layer of superiority. We tolerate people who are beneath us (even if that person is a boss or other authority figure). We tolerate attitudes we believe we are above. We tolerate behaviors in others that we would never do ourselves. (I respect the bubble space of others and am perpetually early for everything.) Religious people are taught to love the sinner and hate the sin: the sinner is tolerated because he does things that the religious person would never do. "I don't judge," so many people say. But I'm here to say that in order to tolerate, one must judge, and judge negatively.

Tolerance also creates a culture of "looking the other way." To tolerate what someone does, says, thinks, or believes is to choose to ignore what you know is there, to brush off at best, and to cast aside at worst. Again, it consequently places you above the person, culture, race, religion, sexuality, etc. that you are tolerating.

I admit that tolerance as a concept has been on its way out of general parlance for a while now, but acceptance is the current foundation of our diversity paradigm. Its presence is ubiquitous. People wear this word proudly like a badge of honor, something to show to others as proof of a forward-thinking attitude.

Simply put, we "accept" things that we cannot change. I accept the fact that every month, $300 will disappear from my bank account for my car payment. I accept the fact that I have to wake up at 5:45 every morning to go to work every day in order to collect a paycheck. I accept the possibility that I may not get that teaching job I'm applying for. I accept the fact that my ears, if removed from my head, could be used as soup ladles. These things are out of my hands. No matter how vehemently I want to change them, I must accept their continued and continuous existence.

When someone with good intent says, "I accept all gay people! I accept all people for who they are!" this is nothing more than an acknowledgement that changing that group of people is out of his or her hands and that he or she is unwilling to fight that futile battle. While I am glad that people, for the most part, have given up the hope that I will someday magically be attracted to women, their acceptance does not authentically validate me as a fellow human being. To accept me is to downplay my humanity. Accepting me denotes and marginalizes me as "the other," as something that veers away from the "norm" to which you belong.

Moreover, acceptance is accomplished, more often than not, after a long hard battle; after all, if there had been no struggle, the public declaration of eventual acceptance would not be necessary. Acceptance is something moved into. It doesn't just happen. The thing that bothers me most about this word is that acceptance is conciliatory, a choice that one possesses the ability to make. You accept, after careful consideration, someone else's proposal. You accept, a part of you knowing that you were right all along, someone's apology. You accept someone's resignation. You accept, after weighing the options, a new position that is offered to you. The ability to accept carries a power with it: the person who accepts could just as easily have chosen to deny. This means that there is a certain graciousness--one that borders on obsequiousness--that the person being accepted should have for the person who has deigned to accept him or her.

So if we should not tolerate, if we should not accept, where does this leave us? What should we do??

I give you . . .

haha ;)

my Diversity Manifesto:

I do not accept you. And I do not want you to accept me. I will not tolerate you. Nor do I want you to tolerate me. I will not pretend that you do not exist, brush you under the rug, or look the other way. I will see you, all of you, every wrinkle, pimple, mole, chapped lip, fungal toenail, nose hair, and scar. Please see all of me, too. 

We may have many things in common; yet, you are nothing like me. We may look nothing alike; yet, you are my twin. I love you for our sameness, and I love you even more for our differentness. Diversity is a blessing, not a curse. There are over 100 species of pine trees in the world. There are 10,000 species of birds. There are 26,000 different species of orchids! We do not tolerate all the different trees. We do not accept that there are so many birds, each with its own song. We neither tolerate nor accept that we have such an abundance of beautiful flowers with which we can adorn our homes, give to our loved ones, or bury our noses in. 

The diversity of our human family is every bit as incredible, every bit as awe-inspiring, every bit as magnificent as that of the trees, birds, and flowers, and we should not see it as any different. Whether this person believes in Jesus and this person believes in Mohammed, this person believes in an Earth Mother and this person believes in a Universal Energy, we all come from the same place. Belief has nothing to do with it. We are all meant to be just as we are. We are all perfect. We are all beautiful. We are all precious.

I will not embrace you because my god tells me to. I will not celebrate you because society pressures me to. I will not rejoice in your presence simply because I have been told that it is the "right" thing to do. There is no rightness and wrongness in existence. There is no higher and lower. There is no better and worse. Because we all exist, so are we all natural; there is no such thing as unnatural, aberrant, or anomalous since that implies a standard, some metaphysical "pure" version of every conceivable thing to which every other living thing must adhere. 

But there is not a "pure" shade of brown hair; rather, there are myriad shades of brown. There is not pure "masculinity" and "femininity"; rather, there are infinite variations of just as many human traits. Likewise, there is not only "straight" or "gay." Human sexuality is not a binary. Just like the color brown exists on a continuum, so does the expression of one's sexuality. While it may be true that the vast majority of humans, because of a primal need to procreate, are sexually attracted to the opposite sex, that does not negate the fact that there are biological processes in our brains that impel us to be attracted a little bit to the same sex, a lot to the same sex, equally to both sexes, mostly to the same sex, or even not to either sex at all. 

You do not deserve my tolerance. Nor do you deserve my acceptance. You deserve so much more than that. I deserve so much more than that. Let's face it: you and I, we are very different. So let us rejoice in those differences. Let us revel in the fact that you can teach me and I can teach you. Let us embrace each discovery of some new thing, no matter how minute or earth-shattering. Let us celebrate. Above all, let us celebrate all the diversity that makes this world richer and more beautiful, for a world that is richer and more beautiful makes us richer and more beautiful. And rejoicing, reveling, embracing, and celebrating that we are all rich and beautiful makes each of our individual lives richer and more beautiful.