By the time kids grow up to be teens, words matter less than intention and context.stockphotodirectors/Getty Images
As a writer, I often think about the use of profanity. Writing two middle-grade series has increasingly required me to consider the use of language: When is it okay, or not, for my young characters to swear?
Thinking about the use of swear words in my novels has led me to question my approach to profanity as a parent as well. Years ago, when my kids and I were younger, was I doing the right thing by trying not to swear in front of them at all?
I have a clear memory of my oldest son being two or three when I was fixing his bedroom door. I was hammering a hinge pin into two hinge leaves when I missed and hit myself. “Shoot,” I said under my breath. My son, who was watching me, asked without hesitation if I had meant to use a different, four-letter word instead.
Stop tracking your kid’s every move. It’s bad for both of you
He was right. That’s exactly what I had wanted to say, but I didn’t because I was trying to set a good example by not swearing (though he had clearly heard me say that word previously).
Now that my kids are older – I have two young adults, two teens and a preteen – I realize it’s even more important to be aware of how I use language around them. Whereas toddlers absorb words as a blueprint for how language works in the world, by the time they are teens, words matter less than intention and context.
If you’re worried about swearing in front of your kids or their own swearing, here are some of the things I’ve learned.
Let’s pay more attention to how and why kids swear, rather than trying to stop it
This may be rudimentary, but I have come to understand that kids do swear, and at a certain point, there isn’t a whole lot we can do about it. I was in a hockey rink the other day, watching my youngest son play, when I overheard a bunch of adolescent kids commentating in the stands, swearing like sailors.
We might not be able to prevent our kids from swearing, but what we can do is pay attention to when and why they are swearing. A lot of this has to do with our own modelling as parents. Are we using profanity when we’re angry or stressed, or when we’ve lost control? Or, rather, is it something we are using occasionally, deliberately and most importantly, without cruelty?
For me, the rule for kids shouldn’t be “no swearing” but instead, “no demeaning.” Profanity becomes weaponized and harmful when it’s used to punch down or to shame somebody. There’s a difference between getting cut off in traffic and uttering something under your breath, and rolling down your window to yell at another driver for being some kind of moron.
A list of forbidden words won’t teach teens as much as watching how the power of language is handled by the adults around them during times of conflict. And in my experience, when you tell a kid not to do something, they’ll just do it even more.
Sometimes, swearing is a constructive and appropriate response to the situation
Over the course of my six-book middle-grade series, The Misewa Saga – about two Cree children forced away from their families who discover a portal to an alternate reality – the way I wrote their dialogue changed. As the characters got older and the books became more mature with each instalment, I carefully incorporated the use of more colourful language in key situations.
The best example is in The World’s End, which is the final book. At one point, Eli, an Indigenous main character, is told that Child and Family Services, or CFS, would be asking questions about where he was because he’d been in another world for so long. Eli had been in foster care for several months after being forcibly removed from his family. In a burst of anger, he swears at the CFS using a four-letter word.
Initially, my publisher wanted to alter the language, but I asked what else a kid in Eli’s situation – and with that context – would say. His choice of words was a believable, real-world response. In the end, Eli’s emotional but situationally appropriate response was left in the book and led to a moment of affecting resonance.
Parents, take it from this hockey dad – misbehaving from the stands is a losing game
Context is the most important lesson here. The use of profanity for emphasis – as with Eli’s line – or frustration, or even humour, is fundamentally different than directing profanity toward another person. A teenager may not be able to articulate this distinction, but they’re smart, they’re sponges and they can see it and internalize it. That is why parents must choose their own words carefully.
I don’t worry as much any more about whether my kids use swear words. I worry more about how they use language when they’re hurt, or angry, or scared. Words aren’t just sounds we make. Used carefully, they can help us name what we’re feeling without diminishing others.
Long after my kids forget the words they used in a heated situation, I hope what they’ll remember is that language allowed them to be honest. That’s the example I want to set, even if I don’t always get it right.
David A. Robertson is a two-time Governor-General’s Literary Award winner and has won the TD Canadian Children’s Literature Award and the Writers’ Union of Canada Freedom to Read Award. He is a member of Norway House Cree Nation and lives in Winnipeg.