The Demure Vernacular
From the Shadows of Non-Confrontational Language to a Self-Assured Spotlight
Being a young 20-something-year-old woman, I calculate every single sentence that leaves my lips. I make it my mission, daily, to rehearse whatever I am about to say. There is an overabundance of questions and intrusive thoughts that are constantly rattling through my mind such as: “was my tone too harsh?” “I should add an exclamation mark to this text so I don’t seem so rude”, “I hope they aren’t mad at me”, or the worst, my disclaimers. These include, “Not to sound harsh, but…” or “Ok, I know this might sound silly…”, and “This may sound dumb, but-.” I often catch myself reciting these phrases and becoming frustrated that eventually begs the internal question, “Why do I speak this way?” I will dive into my own experience as a young woman through public speaking and countless interactions that help me find my voice. Nonetheless, I have learned throughout my time on my high school debate team, working in a restaurant, and currently in a newsroom how to speak and command mutual respect (this is a work in progress, a journey perhaps). Accompanying this, I have also learned to speak up for myself and others while setting necessary boundaries.
Backtracking to the question, “Why do I speak this way?” It’s a defense mechanism that I, other women, and socially anxious folx harbor in order to cushion our statements as not to receive immediate criticism from others (men). They (men) have (far too much) confidence whenever they open their mouths, in my personal opinion. They cling to their beliefs and spew out whatever is in their head, even if they are dead wrong; it’s astounding, truly. I’ve heard many a time that women speak too much, but have you ever watched a post-football game round table discussion? Those guys don’t shut the hell up about every single play. I mean how much is there to deliberate about that game? I’m getting off-topic.
For your own reference, I’m five-foot and one and a half inches and have been this short since my bat mitzvah. Meaning, I am not intimidating nor am I statuesque. I do not let that limit me. I was always a vibrant and outgoing kid, outspoken at times. I was raised in a Jewish home which meant I learned to argue and to speak up early in my youth. Encouraged by my parents, I reluctantly joined the debate team when I began high school. This was one of the best decisions I have made in my young life so far. During my four years on this unquestionably successful and talented team, my confidence soared. I got over the general anxiety of speaking to a group of peers and adults and found snippets of courage. I performed in college classrooms at Harvard, Yale, Emory, and more all while in a suit and heels. I had a blast and absorbed as much as I could about writing, projecting my voice, and captivating an audience.
Moving along to college, I became a little more self-aware about the way I spoke. In my senior year of undergrad I had a class on the Holocaust taught by Dr. Alan L. Berger, Scholar Chair in Holocaust Studies; and Director of The Center for the Study of Values and Violence after Auschwitz. He was intimidating, to say the least. I knew much about this subject as it was taught to us at a young age in Hebrew day school. The class was demanding through heavy reading and an expectance in a high volume of class participation. This class was challenging and I didn’t want to say the wrong thing. During class one day, I was answering a question Dr. Berger presented. He pointed something out that I had not noticed up until that point. He told me, “it’s not ‘like’ _____, it IS _____.” I was using buffer words so that I wouldn’t face scrutiny. I nearly cried at that point because no one had pointed that out to me before and I was flattered, I felt dignified and continued the semester knowing he was confident in me. Later, after I graduated, I received a letter in the mail from Dr. Berger stating how academically laborious this class was and how I exceeded his expectations. I teared up once again and took this feeling with me whenever I lacked self-assurance.
Adjacently, I was working at a casual seafood restaurant during my college career. I had never served and had no clue where to begin or what “86” meant. During my time here, I was belittled, groped, verbally harassed by customers and staff, and constantly picking fish scales off my apron. Here is where most of the work was done internally, for me. I soon learned to brush off the crude and sexist comments and better yet, stand my ground and defend myself. One instance, we had a new fry cook hire. I had been there for about three years at this point, so I felt comfortable and confident in my environment. I knew my space and that my coworkers had my back. Being the polite young woman I am, I introduced myself, as I would be requesting his assistance throughout my shift as a team member. Reminder, I’m roughly the height of the Yellow M&M, so I can’t exactly see over the line (the counter between me and the grill). I told him my name (pronounced “Ah-Dee-Nah”) which he responds, “Oh, Adidas?” My coworkers snickered and I laughed quietly as well, it was not the first time I had heard that joke, probably not since eighth grade. I gave him another chance, “No” I chuckled, “It’s Adina.” He replied, “Oh, ok, nice to meet you Adidas.” My coworkers were holding it back, but I knew they were enjoying this far more than I was. I sternly said, “Dude, I just told you my name, I’m not playing with you.” this man says to me, “Aight Adidas whatever you say.” My blood was close to boiling. There was no respect and I had the intrusive thought that maybe I just wasn't fit for respect. Ridiculous, I know, but later that night, he sat down next to me as I was counting my tips and apologized for earlier. I thanked him. Later that year, he got fired for practically getting in a fight with another cook and the owner so, lex talionis, I guess.
These spurts of tenacity are sporadic for me. I’m often composed in certain situations until I get home and think of the perfect comeback. Why is this? Why do we cower when confronted with verbal harassment or unwelcome comments? American poet, Taylor Mali, performed a poem in 2010 called, “Totally Like Whatever, You Know”, in which he advises the audience about upward inflections in speech and how it makes you sound uncertain in life. During his performance, he brings up one of the buffer words I personally, and many other young women, use: “like”. This word helps me get through my sentence without someone interrupting me. It’s the equivalent of “um” or “whats-it-called”; a bridge to my next thought, indicating to the listener(s) that I am not quite finished with what I am saying. Is this the best method? Should I be more concise with my words? Maybe, but that’s not how people conversely speak. Mali uses this type of language to criticize those who use it while the audience cackles alongside him. He quips,
“…in case you hadn’t realized it has
somehow become uncool to sound like
you know what you’re talking about or
believe strongly in what you’re like, saying
invisible question marks and
parenthetical you knows and you know
what I’m saying…”
In a slam poem by Melissa Lozada-Oliva, a New York-based poet and educator, “Like Totally Whatever” (2015), a retaliation to Mali’s, “Totally Like Whatever” (2010), she reclaims this buffer language as her own, using it as verbal shielding. She asserts,
“Like totally whatever after Taylor Mali in case you haven’t realized
it has somehow
become necessary for old white men to tell me how to speak
they like
interrupt a conversation that isn’t even theirs
And are like speak like you mean it…”
She continues,
“…Like this is protection like our ‘likes’ are our kneepads.
Our ‘umms’ are the knives we tuck into our boots at night.
Our ‘you knows’ are the best friends we call when walking down a dark alley
like this is how we breathe easier.”
She evokes this sense of defensive prowess women are burdened with from an early age. Lozada-Oliva uses “like” contrariwise to Mali. She illustrates the point that men have and will continue to instruct young women how to speak “properly” in their terms.
These guidelines have been engrained in my mind, coupled with the deeply rooted internalized misogyny (which I am unlearning daily), has given me this mindset that people who use buffer language are less intelligent or generally “ditzy.” A prominent example in popular media is Elle Woods in Legally Blonde (2001).
This is one of my absolute favorite movies. A perfect balance of female empowerment, revenge, and romance including the hotter Wilson brother. Throughout the movie, she is continuously ridiculed for her outward appearance. To quote the evocative Elle Woods, “All people see when they look at me is blonde hair and big boobs.” Throughout the film, she is underestimated by almost everyone she comes into contact with, but looks can be deceiving. She defies everyone’s low expectations of her and proves that women, especially those who look like her, are not two-dimensional bimbos with an empty head and no thoughts. She graduates with Summa Cum Laude at Harvard Law after all. What? Like it’s hard?
Unlearning the internalized misogyny is a long road, but I try and remind myself that life is not a competition and not to be too judgy of other women. I listen and reflect. The toughest buffer word to attempt to curtail is “sorry.” Almost every woman I have spoken to uses “sorry” daily. It’s as if we’re apologizing merely for existing. Chloe Parpworth-Reynolds describes this as “Sorry Syndrome” in which someone possesses “the overwhelming need to apologize for every little thing, even if the individual apologizing isn’t to blame or if the event they’re apologizing for is completely out of their control.” We are taught at such a young age to be prim and quiet. In the song, “Ladylike/WHATTA BITCH”, by punk band, The Regrettes, the intro lyrics proceed as:
“Be soft, be shy, read a book and learn to cook
Be nice, be dumb, clean the floors and wash your pores
Be light, be small, wear a dress below your knees, not less
Be insecure, be a wife, cater to a man for the rest of your life.”
This facetious guideline for young women is a reflection of how men police our every thought and decision. The “Sorry Syndrome” is a product of the patriarchy and is something I have been working on for myself and try to help with my friends as well by offering alternative language in leui of buffer language. A few years ago, I stumbled upon this comic by New York-based illustrator, Yao Xiao that teaches you to be appreciative, not apologetic when you speak to others.
This comic alone has helped me immensely in my daily verbiage, especially when I worked in the restaurant I mentioned earlier. I would thank people for their time and more importantly, their patience. It makes the person opposite me feel appreciated, like they were lending their time and patience to me. We are not here as burdons and should not be treated as such.
I am still working towards my fully cultivated confidence, but for the time being I will remind myself that my time is just as valuable as anyone else's and to stand up for myself whenever I can. Being a young woman, I know how I am perceived in this world under the patriarchy. That doesn’t mean I won’t open my damn mouth and speak up.
