Addictionary
One thing I love most about writing is the challenges it offers. I am one of those people who still get excited about learning new things and am painfully aware that I know very little in this vast and complicated world.
Add into the mix an awareness that we are all imperfect beings on a perfect journey and the pursuit of storytelling becomes so much more enticing to me. But buried deep within the power of story lies a sense of responsibility to leave this place better than I found it. At least, that’s how I approach it, from a framework likely based on long-standing experiences where I did so much harm for far too long.
I wanted to talk a little about language and what I’ve learned recently from crafting my second book, Bridgetown: A Harm Reduction Novel. Specifically, I’m talking about stigmatizing language regarding substance use disorder that is likely more common than most think. It was a learning experience for me because of where I’m coming from. As a person in recovery, I have been out of the game for over a decade now, but still approached the language describing my time from where I left it. At least, that was me at the beginning of Bridgetown.
So what language am I talking about? Words and terms such as addict, addiction, drug abuser, and other stigmatizing words that diminish an individual down to their disease or disorder. As an aside, it’s important to note that people have every right to self-identify any way they please. For example, I still often refer to myself as a grateful addict in recovery, and if I happen to call myself a junky, a term that many of my friends have embraced over the years, it’s very different from you calling me a junky. Of course, the problem arises where there is an incongruence in how people describe themself and how they wish to be addressed because it can confuse, so I very may well change the descriptors I use when referencing myself in the future.
For other less obviously degrading terms, the problem arises when people use language to describe others that are hurtful and demoralizing, often, without even knowing it. Another great example is the word houseless over homeless, which may imply a person without a mortgage or rent can’t have a space they belong to.
Language changes over time, and there are new ways of describing individuals such as myself that I wasn’t familiar with a decade ago. This is why learning about what and whom you are writing about is a practical matter all writers should embrace. For example, PWUD, or people who use drugs, is considered a proper reference and replacement for the word addict. And when you think about it, the term “drug abuser” also links violence to a person’s behavior, which is neither helpful nor necessary, especially when there are many consenting adults who are able/capable of using certain substances responsibly.
Something else that a friend/sensitivity reader pointed out to me was the idea of person-first language. I had scribed a scene where my main character was suggesting a client of hers find a using buddy, and it was recommended to consider the phrase “a buddy to use with”. Slight changes such as this, especially considering the book's totality, can go a long way to show how one of our most basic functions, that of free speech, can move mountains.
As I’ve always said, I’m learning as I go, and this is not an attempt to change how you speak or the language you use. One would hope if you read this, it helps add perspective to small ways we can lift up others, or at the very least, not put them down.
If you want to learn more from people who are much smarter than me, here’s a link to an “Addictionary.” https://www.recoveryanswers.org/addiction-ary/