tell me. “It’s inappropriate for a woman to
swear,” they insist. “It’s not necessary.”
I can vote. I can drive. I can own property.
I can say shit — literally.
to repeat a neutral
phrase, while their
counterparts were
given permission to
repeat expletives. The
results? Those spewing
out swear words kept their
hands submerged in ice water
for an average of 40 seconds
longer and reported less pain.
Sure, some people choose to swap swears
for a more G-rated vocabulary full of
“witch” and “shut the front door ” but does
it have the same impact as a curse word?
Does “fudge” really pack the same punch
as an f-bomb does? After all, they call it a
bomb for a reason, don’t they?
Unlike most language, which originates
in the left hemisphere of the brain (the
side also responsible for processing
what you hear, and carrying out logical
functions), foul language stems from the
right hemisphere of the brain, the part
also linked to spatial ability.
From a linguistics perspective, the f-word
and its derivatives can be used as a noun,
a verb, and an adjective. It has countless
interpretations and can help in expressing
a vast array of emotions. It’s so notorious
that we don’t even need to say it for
people to know which specific word we
are referring to—impressive considering the
Canadian Oxford Dictionary contains 79
pages of f-words. Curse words, the infamous
f-bomb included, can convey shock, sorrow,
rage, surprise, and happiness. They intensify
meaning, express raw emotions, and help
us deal with stress and pain.
Each half of the brain consists of multiple
structures, all with their own unique
functions. Studies have now shown that the
amygdala, a group of neurons responsible
for our “fight or flight” response and linked
to our recognitions of fear and pleasure,
is stimulated when we use profanity at
length. The little almond shaped piece of
our brain even helps us regulate reactions
necessary for our own survival, and
ultimately makes us less sensitive to pain.
Swearing is such a common response to
injury (think stubbing your toe or bumping
your head) that it may not be much of
a choice after all. So it’s fair to say that
profanity is a biological painkiller.
But it’s my choice and it’s a choice that
has absolutely nothing to do with being
a woman. I am guaranteed the right to
freedom of expression, just like every other
Canadian. My decision to use profanity is
exactly that: my decision.
In fact, research shows that the use of
profanity does in fact impact our ability
to manage pain. A study published in
NeuroReport tested this theory. Participants
were asked to keep their hands in ice water
as long as possible. One group was told
Missy/Ink | Issue 18
As for my grandma, she still refuses to
express herself using the f-word. We jest,
but it’s completely her decision. And that’s
pretty effin’ cool.
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