It’s an interesting time to try to have a conversation. The vast majority of people are either; yelling so loud they couldn’t possibly hear one another, their only opinion is the one they’ve been scripted to express; or they have their fingers stuffed in their ears and their eyes shut and “Just make it go away” written all over their faces.
Even the most respectful of conversations have an air of: I’m-going-to-say-this-all-at-one-time-to-make-sure-I-say-all-the-things-before-you-can. Friends are trying to hear each other, but most are simply stuck in their thought process, remarking about how everyone is in an echo chamber while failing to see the one they are trapped in themselves. I’m certainly not immune to this trap. Perhaps this inability to hear, because we can’t listen, is why the idea of violent words seems to be coming up more and more.
In a time when hurtling insults at others because one feels their cause is justified, and when the skin of so many is about as thick and resilient as a long expired prophylactic, I supposed it’s no real surprise that language is being mistaken for violence. But what is surprising, is the lack alarm at this prospect.
Words can be incredibly hurtful, cause real harm, and can do long term significant damage. The impact of what, why, how and how often we say things can stretch out over a lifetime. But words are not violence. And pushing to consider them as such is nothing less than dangerous. The difference between violent and damaging may seem like semantics to some, but the differences matter.
If I get into an argument with my boyfriend, and I escalate verbally - loud and mean, the kind of mean that digs at an old wound, the kind of words that can keep him up at night - does he then have the right to defend himself with his fists? If my words are now considered violence, how do we determine where the line between justified and unjustified is anymore? Once the line between the verbal and physical is erased, there is little to stop the boulder from rolling all the way downhill.
An article in the New York Times from 2017 (https://www.nytimes.com/2017/07/14/opinion/sunday/when-is-speech-violence.html) raises some important points about the physical affects of stress. Our bodies really do break themselves down due to prolonged stress. It also posits that because some words can cause stress, then words can be a kind of violence. Merely the awful opinions of others apparently are violent.
By that measure, are our stressful jobs violent? Is caregiving for a family member with special needs violence? Losing a job? These are magnificently stressful events, that have repercussions deep in our bones, but I’ve yet to hear that these things count as violence. Instead, these things are the unfortunate twists and turns of life. Going through these things - and learning to steel oneself against words that offend or
Verbal abuse is unacceptable. And those that use their words to diminish and abuse others need to face consequences. And even people with terrible opinions should be silenced by being outmatched and outwitted. But raising their words to violence is wrong. If anything, we’re only serving to give them more power over us by doing so. The more we can turn to face and challenge those that anger and offend us with their words - rather than hide behind a false accusation - the more we take the wind out of their sails. And the less likely we are to be angered and offended so frequently. That physical damage that stress manifests is only based on how we perceive the bumps (or hills, or mountains) in life, after all.
Words are not violence. Only violence is violent. Maintaining that boundary is important.