Words

Living with an English language learner occasionally requires confusing discussions on the meanings of words and phrases. Paul had overheard us talking about game 7 of the Heat vs. Spurs a couple of weeks ago, and he wanted to watch. But "What's a championship?"

"It's the last game of the tournament to find out who's the winner."

"What's a tournament?"

"Like in Sam's softball, remember? When lots of teams played each other until two teams won all their games. Then those two teams played in the championship."

"But why is it championSHIP? Why is there a SHIP?"

Um...I don't know. Why is it championSHIP? I googled the origin of the word, but got nothing. So we're all now puzzled about the role of large oceangoing vessels in tournament play.

It's not always so innocuous. A couple of weeks ago Paul came home from playing with friends and asked, "What's a game rod?"

"A what? A game rod? Is it something you used to play the Wii?"

"No!" Paul still has a bit of an accent, and he gets frustrated with me when I don't quite understand what he's saying. "It's like a name or something! The big boys said it. Game Rod!"

I looked at Trent. He mouthed, "Gay wad." Oh. That.

"Gay can sometimes mean happy," Sam supplied helpfully.

"No." Paul didn't know what it meant, but he knew it hadn't been used in the context of sometimes meaning happy. He knew it had been used as an insult.

So I tried to explain what gay meant, on a seven year old level, and I tried to explain that the boys who had been using that expression were using it in a mean way, to hurt. And that wasn't okay. It's never okay to hurt with our words. But calling someone gay doesn't have to be hurtful if, in fact, that person is gay. But really it's best not to judge or comment upon anyone's sexuality. Gay or straight. Okay?

He raised those "Mama is crazy" eyebrows. "What's it mean again?"

This isn't a blog about the recent Supreme Court decision or the Boy Scouts. Others (Glennon Melton at Momastery and Kimberly Brubaker Bradley at One Blog Now) have seemingly climbed inside my head and written about those issues more eloquently than I. (And I tend to care less about "issues" and more about people, so when I think about those particular "issues", I think about people I know and love who have been touched directly and often hurt by those "issues" from other people I know and love who dig their foxhole and plan their attack on one side or the other. But I digress.)

This blog is about words. Because words matter. Whatever words we utter should be chosen with care for people will hear them and be influenced by them for good or for ill -- Buddha.

I haven't paid too much attention to the Paula Deen case. When I first heard the news about her racist jokes and language I wasn't surprised. But I was sad. I was sad that she didn't seem to understand why racist jokes are hurtful, why using the N-word was such a big deal (and again, others have written about this in more depth - (Kristen Howerton at Rage Against the Minivan and Kim Bradley, just this morning). Mostly I was sad about the day I would have to talk to my own son about the N-word, about racism, about growing up black in America, about growing up black in a white family who doesn't understand what it means to grow up black.

And I'm going to have to do a better job than I did with gay wad. Because I want him to know how special he is, how loved he is, how mean or ignorant words don't have power over him, how words can hurt but don't have to define. Death and life are in the power of the tongue -- Proverbs 18:21. I choose life.