Nine Nasty Words

Nine Nasty Words Plot Summary

Introduction

When Babe Ruth's father discovered his wife had an affair with a bartender, he made the man sign an affidavit that read: "I the under sign fucked Mrs Geo. H, Ruth March 12 1906 on her dinging room floor whitch She ask me to do." This historical document fascinates us not because of the scandal, but because it contains a word we still consider profane today. Similarly, when comedian George Carlin performed his famous "Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television" routine in the 1970s (shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, and tits), he highlighted an enduring truth: certain words possess a mysterious power to shock, offend, and captivate us. What makes these words special? They aren't just "bad words" – they're processed differently in our brains. While most language is generated in the left hemisphere (associated with logic and analysis), profanity activates the right hemisphere's limbic system (linked to emotion and impulse). This explains why patients who lose left-brain function can still curse fluently even when they can't form sentences. Profanity emerges not as carefully constructed speech but as emotional eruptions – more akin to animal vocalizations than rational communication. Throughout history, what society deemed profane has shifted from religious taboos (damn, hell) to bodily functions (shit, fuck) to identity-based slurs (the N-word), reflecting evolving social values and sensitivities.

Chapter 1: From Sacred to Profane: The Journey of Damn and Hell

Today, damn and hell seem rather mild as profanities go. They appear frequently in PG-rated movies and everyday conversation without raising many eyebrows. However, these words were once genuinely shocking. In medieval England, swearing – in the literal sense of invoking God – was considered a serious transgression. Taking the Lord's name "in vain" ranked second among the Ten Commandments, before prohibitions against murder and adultery. Words like damn explicitly referenced divine condemnation, while hell invoked eternal torment. The taboo on religious language was so strong that euphemisms proliferated. Zounds came from "by His wounds," gadzooks from "God's hooks" (referring to the nails used in the crucifixion), and odds bodkins from "God's body." Even modern expressions like golly, gosh, and goodness gracious were once transparent attempts to avoid direct reference to God. By the Renaissance, however, societal taboos began shifting from the divine to the corporeal, leaving damn and hell in an intermediate space – too mild for genuine shock value but retaining a historical residue of impropriety. What's fascinating is how these words evolved beyond their original meanings. Hell transformed from a place of eternal torment to a grammatical intensifier in expressions like "run like hell." Similarly, damn moved from a divine judgment to a mere exclamation of frustration. The word darn provides a remarkable etymological journey – it evolved from "by the eternal God" to "etarnal" to "tarnal" to "tarnation" and finally to "darn" through a series of phonological and semantic shifts. Such transformations reveal language as a living system constantly shaped by social forces and cognitive shortcuts. This evolution reflects broader social changes – the declining influence of religious institutions, increasing secularization, and shifting moral priorities. Words that once threatened the social order by challenging God's authority now seem quaint compared to language about bodies and identities. Damn and hell survive as linguistic fossils, preserving traces of an era when religious propriety dominated social discourse. Their journey demonstrates how profanity always reflects the deepest taboos of its time – which is why religious words have faded while others have taken their place as society's verbal boundaries.

Chapter 2: The Curious Case of F*ck: Etymology and Cultural Impact

The word fuck presents a curious etymological puzzle. Unlike many profane words with clear origins, fuck seems to appear suddenly in written English around the 1500s, though evidence suggests it existed in spoken form much earlier. The first unequivocal written record comes from 1528, when a monk scribbled "fuckin abbott" in the margin of a manuscript. Even more revealing are medieval place names like "Fuckinggrove" and surnames like "Fuckbythenavel" from the 13th century, showing the word was once used quite casually. Despite this early presence, fuck disappeared almost entirely from written records for centuries. From approximately 1650 to 1960, the word was effectively banished from respectable publication. Dictionaries excluded it, literature avoided it, and formal writing pretended it didn't exist. Yet the word thrived in everyday speech. When James Jones's novel From Here to Eternity included the word in 1951, it was considered revolutionary, but soldiers had been using it constantly throughout both World Wars. This peculiar gap between spoken and written language reflects how taboos function – not by eliminating words but by controlling their contexts. What makes fuck linguistically fascinating is its extraordinary versatility. It functions as virtually every part of speech: verb ("they fucked"), noun ("not giving a fuck"), adjective ("fucking brilliant"), adverb ("move fucking faster"), interjection ("Fuck!"), and even as a grammatical infixation ("abso-fucking-lutely"). This grammatical promiscuity is matched by semantic flexibility – beyond its sexual meaning, it expresses anger, emphasis, dismissal, surprise, or intensification. The phrase "fuck you" rarely has sexual connotations, while "What the fuck?" uses the word as a pure intensifier detached from its original meaning. The word's power comes partly from its phonological properties – that short, explosive combination of consonants and vowel creates what linguists call an ideal profane word shape. But its power also stems from its taboo status. Society's attempt to restrict fuck paradoxically enhanced its emotional impact, creating a linguistic weapon that bypasses rational thought and triggers immediate emotional responses. As social attitudes toward sexuality have liberalized, the word has become more common in public discourse, though it still retains enough taboo status to function effectively as profanity. In this evolution, we see how profane words don't just reflect social attitudes – they become battlegrounds where cultural values are negotiated and contested.

Chapter 3: Sh*t Happens: How Bodily Functions Became Taboo

The word shit has a surprisingly straightforward etymology, tracing back to Old English scītan, meaning "to defecate." This contradicts the popular folk etymology claiming it originated as an acronym for "Ship High In Transit" – supposedly a warning label for manure transported on ships to prevent methane buildup. Like many profane words, shit developed from a practical term for a bodily function into a taboo expression after the Renaissance, when attitudes toward the body became more restrictive and private. What makes shit linguistically remarkable is how it has expanded far beyond its scatological origins. The word has developed a complex semantic network with four main branches of meaning. First, it represents the unwelcome (as in "giving someone shit"). Second, it paradoxically represents authenticity or essence (as in "getting your shit together" or "knowing your shit"). Third, it indicates worthlessness or denigration (as in "this is shit" or "I don't give a shit"). Fourth, it functions as an intensifier (as in "run like shit"). These meanings aren't random but form a coherent semantic map showing how languages extend concrete terms into abstract domains. Most fascinatingly, shit has evolved into a versatile grammatical element in contemporary English. It functions as a pronoun in expressions like "get your shit together" (where "shit" essentially means "self"). It serves as a dismissive marker in phrases like "that shit" (meaning "that thing I'm disparaging"). It even operates as a pragmatic marker in expressions like "and shit," which softens statements and signals shared understanding. These grammatical innovations reveal how profanity often leads language change, creating new communicative resources that standard language lacks. The taboo on bodily functions like defecation reflects deeper cultural anxieties about human physicality and mortality. By designating certain bodily processes as unspeakable, societies attempt to distance themselves from biological realities that remind us of our animal nature. Yet these taboos paradoxically give excretory language special power – the emotional charge that makes shit effective as both insult and intensifier. As with other profanity, shit demonstrates how language continuously recycles forbidden terms into new meanings, creating a parallel vocabulary that performs emotional and social functions impossible with "proper" words.

Chapter 4: The A-Word: From Anatomy to Grammar

The word ass offers a perfect case study in how profanity transforms through linguistic evolution. Originally, ass referred exclusively to the animal (donkey), while arse was the term for the human posterior. In British English, these remained distinct, but in American English, pronunciation shifts merged them into a single form. This accidental homophony created both humor and confusion – leading to jokes about riding one's ass and eventually to euphemistic alternatives for the animal (donkey). What's remarkable about ass is how thoroughly it has infiltrated everyday grammar. In Black English and increasingly in general American English, ass functions as a pronoun substitute in expressions like "I'm gonna fire your ass" (meaning simply "you"). This usage creates an entire parallel pronoun system where "his ass," "her ass," and "their ass" function alongside standard pronouns with added connotations of dismissiveness or emphasis. Similarly, ass has become a productive suffix in constructions like "big-ass house" or "crazy-ass idea," serving not merely as intensification but as a marker of counterexpectation – indicating something is remarkable or surprising. The word also exemplifies how profanity creates grammatical innovations that eventually become invisible to speakers. In expressions like "Get your ass over here," few people consciously process any reference to anatomy – the phrase functions as a grammaticalized intensifier. Languages worldwide commonly develop such intensifiers from body parts (particularly taboo ones), as seen in the Tok Pisin language's development of asples ("ass place") as a neutral term for "home base." This demonstrates how profanity often drives grammatical change precisely because its emotional charge makes it effective at expressing speaker attitudes. Ass reveals how profanity goes beyond merely naming taboo subjects to perform crucial communicative functions. Its evolution from anatomical reference to grammatical marker parallels similar developments in other languages, suggesting universal patterns in how humans harness the emotional power of taboo language. The resulting grammatical system – invisible to traditional grammar books but essential to how people actually speak – demonstrates how profanity enriches language rather than degrading it, creating nuanced ways to express attitude, stance, and social relationships that "proper" language cannot achieve.

Chapter 5: Gender and Profanity: B*tch and Other Slurs

The word bitch began simply as the standard term for a female dog, but by the early 1400s, it was already being applied to women as an insult. This early metaphorical extension reveals much about gender dynamics in English-speaking societies. Unlike many profane words that began as neutral anatomical terms, bitch always carried derogatory implications when applied to humans – suggesting an inherent cultural tendency to compare women unfavorably to animals, particularly regarding sexuality and temperament. What makes bitch linguistically fascinating is its semantic journey. From its original canine meaning, it expanded to describe women considered sexually promiscuous or unpleasantly aggressive, then generalized to refer to any disagreeable person (including men), and finally abstracted to describe difficult situations ("life's a bitch"). It even transformed into a verb meaning "to complain" or "to ruin." These semantic shifts didn't happen randomly but followed predictable pathways of metaphorical extension, where concrete meanings give rise to increasingly abstract ones through shared connotations. The feminist reclamation of bitch beginning in the late 1960s demonstrates how slurs can be repurposed as terms of empowerment. Jo Freeman's 1968 "BITCH Manifesto" explicitly redefined the word to celebrate female strength and independence: "A Bitch takes shit from no one." This deliberate appropriation parallels similar efforts with other slurs like queer and dyke, though bitch remains complex – simultaneously functioning as a feminist rallying cry, a casual term of endearment among friends, and a genuine insult depending on context and tone. Most remarkably, bitch has evolved in Black English to function as an actual pronoun. In expressions like "I told the bitch and she didn't listen" (where "the bitch" simply means "her") or Cardi B's "A bitch is scared" (referring to herself), the word has grammaticalized into a gendered third-person pronoun marker. This development completes the parallel pronoun system alongside ass and shit, creating grammatical distinctions that standard English lacks. Such innovations show how marginalized communities often lead linguistic change by repurposing stigmatized language to express nuanced social meanings impossible in standard registers.

Chapter 6: The N-Word: When Slurs Become Society's Ultimate Taboo

The N-word represents English's most profound taboo, having undergone a remarkable transformation from common terminology to utterly unutterable speech. Etymologically, it derives simply from Latin's niger (black), reaching English through Spanish negro. Early attestations from the 1500s show various spellings (niger, nigur, etc.) used as straightforward descriptive terms without obvious derogatory intent. By the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the word was employed casually in mainstream American culture – appearing in literature, newspaper articles, and everyday conversation as the default term for Black Americans. This historical usage contrasts dramatically with contemporary norms. Today, the word is so taboo that we typically refer to it only as "the N-word." Public figures who utter it – even when quoting or referencing rather than using it as a slur – face severe social and professional consequences. This level of prohibition exceeds even traditional profanity; many Americans who freely use words like fuck or shit would never say the N-word under any circumstances. This transformation reflects the ascendance of slurs to the top of our profanity hierarchy, supplanting both religious and bodily taboos as society's most forbidden language. The complexity deepens with Black Americans' in-group usage of the word, typically pronounced "nigga" rather than "nigger." This appropriation serves multiple functions – reclaiming linguistic power, signaling group solidarity, and defanging a historical weapon. However, unlike some reclaimed slurs, the original hostile meaning remains powerfully active in wider society. This creates a complex sociolinguistic situation where the same phonetic sequence carries radically different meanings depending on speaker identity – a phenomenon linguists call "semantic inversion." Most fascinatingly, the word has developed distinctive grammatical functions in Black English, serving as a pronoun in expressions like "a nigga can't even get a break" (meaning "I") or "nigga just stung me and bounced" (referring to a wasp). This grammaticalization parallels developments with other profane terms, creating a rich pragmatic system for expressing nuanced social relationships. The word's evolution from neutral descriptor to ultimate taboo to reclaimed term to grammatical marker reveals how profanity serves as both a mirror of social values and a laboratory for linguistic innovation.

Chapter 7: The Linguistics of Profanity: Why Bad Words Feel Special

Profanity occupies a unique linguistic territory – words that affect us differently than ordinary vocabulary. Neuroscientific research confirms that profanity activates distinct brain regions from regular speech. While most language processing occurs in the left hemisphere's analytical centers, profanity triggers the right hemisphere's limbic system – the emotional core responsible for fight-or-flight responses. This is why people with certain brain injuries can lose the ability to speak coherently yet retain perfect command of profanity. This neurological distinctiveness explains several peculiar features of profanity. First, profane words often maintain their emotional impact even when semantically empty. In expressions like "What the fuck is that?" or "abso-fucking-lutely," the profane elements contribute no literal meaning yet dramatically alter the utterance's emotional tenor. Second, profanity shows remarkable grammatical flexibility, frequently breaking normal linguistic rules. Words like fuck can function as virtually any part of speech, while ass can transform into a suffix (-ass) or pronoun substitute (your ass) in ways impossible for standard vocabulary. Profanity also follows distinctive historical patterns across languages. English's evolution of profanity reflects three major historical shifts in taboo: from religious transgressions (damn, hell) to bodily functions (shit, fuck) to identity-based slurs (the N-word, faggot). Each era's profanity reflects its deepest cultural anxieties – medieval fears about divine judgment, Victorian concerns about bodily control and sexuality, and contemporary focus on social justice and identity. This progression reveals profanity not as random vulgarity but as a sophisticated system for navigating social boundaries. Perhaps most importantly, profanity serves essential communicative functions impossible with standard language. It provides linguistic resources for expressing intense emotion, signaling group membership, challenging authority, and conveying nuanced social attitudes. The grammatical innovations profanity introduces – from ass as a suffix to shit as a pronoun – create expressive possibilities unavailable in formal registers. Far from representing linguistic degradation, profanity demonstrates language's remarkable adaptability, constantly evolving new tools for human communication. By understanding profanity's linguistic complexity, we gain insight not just into taboo words, but into the fundamental nature of language itself.

Summary

The evolution of English profanity reveals a profound linguistic truth: our "bad words" aren't just random vulgarities but sophisticated systems that reflect society's deepest taboos and anxieties. Throughout history, what we consider profane has shifted from religious transgressions to bodily functions to identity-based slurs, each change mirroring broader cultural transformations. More fascinating still is how these forbidden words don't just exist as static vocabulary but actively reshape grammar itself – creating pronouns, intensifiers, and discourse markers that standard language lacks. Words like ass, shit, and bitch haven't just accumulated new meanings; they've developed entirely new grammatical functions. This linguistic creativity raises intriguing questions about the future of profanity in an increasingly digital and global world. Will online communication accelerate the normalization of traditional profanity while generating new taboos? How might artificial intelligence's inability to process emotional nuance affect our relationship with language that depends on emotional impact? And as societies become more multicultural, how will different cultural taboos interact and potentially transform English profanity? The answers may not be immediately clear, but one thing is certain: as long as humans have taboos, we will have profanity – and that profanity will continue to evolve in ways that reflect who we are, what we fear, and how we relate to one another.

About Author

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John McWhorter

John Hamilton McWhorter (Professor McWhorter uses neither his title nor his middle initial as an author) is an American academic and linguist who is Associate Professor of English and Comparative Literature at Columbia University, where he teaches linguistics, American studies, philosophy, and music history. He is the author of a number of books on language and on race relations. His research specializes on how creole languages form, and how language grammars change as the result of sociohistorical phenomena.A popular writer, McWhorter has written for Time, The Wall Street Journal, The Atlantic, The Chronicle of Higher Education, The New York Times, The Washington Post, The New Republic, Politico, Forbes, The Chicago Tribune, The New York Daily News, City Journal, The New Yorker, among others; he is also contributing editor at The Atlantic and hosts Slate's Lexicon Valley podcas

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