As the eldest of four sisters, I grew up in a household with strict rules to uphold, one of which was the absolute prohibition of swearing. Profanity was an unthinkable offense, and even the utterance of a mild expletive could lead to a night without dinner. My parents, however, had a different relationship with language; my mother often peppered her requests with colorful language, while my father’s rare commands were issued in a tone reminiscent of a mob boss, making it clear that compliance was non-negotiable.
At the age of ten, I experienced my first taste of freedom at a party where swearing flowed freely among my peers. It felt exhilarating, like a rite of passage into adulthood. Despite my initial reluctance to curse in front of my parents, I began to embrace swearing in my everyday life, especially as I transitioned into college and the working world where colorful language was commonplace. I became fluent in profanity, integrating it into my conversations with a sense of sophistication.
Then came the life-changing event: parenthood. Like many new parents, my partner and I committed to shielding our son from bad language, adhering to the unspoken rule that swearing around young children was unacceptable. I became an advocate for propriety, cringing at the sight of others cursing in public while striving to replace my expletives with milder substitutes. Yet, phrases like “oh shoot” felt insufficient when I needed to express genuine frustration.
Despite my efforts, my children eventually became aware of swearing, hearing it from peers and media. When my son confided about a friend’s use of the “s” word, I was surprised by my own lack of outrage. I realized that while profanity might be deemed inappropriate, it could also serve as a healthy outlet for emotions. Rather than enforcing rigid rules against swearing, I chose to teach my children about context. Understanding when and where certain words are acceptable is far more valuable than an outright ban.
Though I still don’t curse freely around my kids, I occasionally let a strong word slip in moments of heightened emotion. My sons giggle at the audacity of “bad” words, and I’ve made a pact that they can explore more expressive language when they turn 16. They’ll have to wait a few years, but I figure that’s young enough.
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In summary, while my relationship with swearing has evolved since childhood—from strict avoidance to an acceptance of its contextual use—I believe teaching my children about language is more important than enforcing absolute rules. As they grow, they will understand the nuances of communication, including how and when to choose their words carefully.