On swearing

fuck

Over the past year, I have had a lot of feedback about my use of swear words.

For one thing, there was a large conversation around it with my publishers. When I first submitted my draft for We Need Your Art - I had like … a hundred and something “fucks” in the manuscript. This is not surprising.

When the discussion of by-lines came up, I sent the team this photo:

This byline was thought to be amusing, but it was not going to happen. Book sellers won’t want to display it. The older artists who will benefit from this book won’t buy it. Large swathes of specific geographical areas will see it as immoral. As for the internal fucks, it was suggested that we cut them all. It was always my choice as to whether we kept them in or not. I had the final call, but my editor let me know that a lot of people would not read the book if I used the word Fuck. So, I chose to take the profanity out. I don’t know if that was the right choice. Most days, I think I fucked it and I regret my choice. But at the end of the day, I know, with certainty, that I would alienate a lot of people with my strong language.

I know this is true because I see it all the time.

I spoke at a conference the other day, and whilst it is easy to censor myself in a book (control find: fuck, replace with: botherypoo!). It is very hard to censor the way I speak live. I cannot help but punctuate my sentences with profanity, because I feel very fucking strongly about the things I speak on.

After the talk, I had a woman approach me. She was amicable and lovely. She had adored my talk. But she also informed me that she had had to write an email to the organisers because she could not abide my swearing. I asked her what about my language upset her. She said it invoked violence for her. She said it really wasn’t necessary. Was I doing it for attention? Why did I use these disgusting words?

I explained my feelings. She said she vehemently disagreed. She asked for a hug.

Why do I swear?

I swear because I love language. I love subversive language. I love playing with language. I love profane language. I love the way FUCK punctuates and highlights a sentiment. I like the way CUNT is an Australian term of endearment and simultaneously one of the most disdained words in the english language. I like how BOLLOCKS sounds so British and delightful.

I swear to reclaim a sense of power after growing up in a home and a culture where swear words were used in ways that felt scary and unsafe. Now I wield them as my own. They are my words and I wield them as I please, safely and beautifully. I wield them to delight people and to empower people. I use them to shock people and make people laugh.

I swear because I don’t want to be polite. I am not polite. I am not here to be decorous and easily consumable. I am fiery, and alive, and filled with fucking sparkles.

I do not swear to invoke violence or to be cruel. I never ever use my language against anyone (unless driving and I am actually working on that). I use it to punctuate points that I am fucking passionate about. I use it to get a rise out of people. I use it to emphasise. I use it to put a fire under our arses because we have art to make.

I swear because I vehemently hate the idea that someone can tell me how to use language. In fact, the response I get about my swearing is very similar to the response I get when I mispell something. Rage. Actual rage. When I share something with a spelling mistake, it is like I have committed a severe moral wrong. People are so mean to me. We have a culture of policing language, and it feels elitist and snobby and my response to this culture is to mispell things more, and to swear more. To use language exactly how I please. People are overly protective over the way we use language. They are defensive. They are downright mean about and I fucking hate it. This conversation could go a lot further, there is a huge amount of ableism, and racism that sits behind a this unwavering commitment to how proper english “should be spoken and written”.

Some of you aren’t ‘misusing’ language; no swearing, no spelling errors, no incorrect gramma - but you are wielding your words cruelly and judgementally and I wish you would stop using that sort of language.

I want us to let go of our tight grip on words, let language move and evolve and change. Let her stretch her wings and say “Fucking hell that was a good stretch.”

I want you to wield words in a way that feels powerful to you. I want you to articulate yourself in a way that brings you closer to who you are. I want you to make language your own, even if that means “butchering it”, “tarnishing it” or speaking the King’s English in a weird accent. Just fuck around and find out.

I fucking love you.

Amie.