You don’t get to use those words, even if you’re related or they’re some of your best friends

Brandon Mendelson is a fellow member of the TU blogging community. A few weeks ago, he wrote a very interesting piece in which he compared the Amazon Kindle e-reader to Apple’s iPad.

Although I enjoyed his article and his comparison of the two digital products, I had a big problem with his use of the word “retarded.”  He used it in the headline of the article, and he used it at least three times in the body of the piece.

When I mentioned that I thought the use of the word “retarded” was not the best choice of syntax in such an article, he stated that two of his brothers were mentally challenged, and that they actually laugh at the use of the word “retarded” in everyday conversation.

Well, he’s not the only TU blogger with a challenged relative.

One year after I was born, my brother John Kennedy Miller entered the world.  Yes, he was named after the slain president, as were a million babies born after that tragedy.

There was a complication in John’s birth – he was either delivered with forceps or he didn’t get enough oxygen upon birth, the stories conflict every time someone tells it – but the fact of the matter was, he suffered a developmental disability.  He’s currently a functioning adult, but like most of my family members, I’ve grown away from them.

It wasn’t easy being a big brother to a kid who had a mental deficiency, and in some of the neighborhoods where I grew up, the kids teased and picked on him – and, by association, picked on me as well.  “You’re a retard,” the kids would say to him.  “You’re slow, you’re stupid,” and then they’d turn to me and say, “if he’s your brother, you’re probably a retard too, it just hasn’t hit you yet.  But it will.”

Think about that when you’re in grade school and you hear that.  Tell me that doesn’t stick in the back of your mind like lumpy oatmeal.

I had enough issues to deal with growing up.  And things didn’t get any better.

The last time I saw John was at my mother’s funeral in 2006.  Before then, there were a few infrequent family functions.  There are a lot of fences that have to be mended.  But that will take place on another day.

But I’m not the only person in the TU blog community – I’m sure there are other bloggers and posters who are either related to, or who know personally, someone with a developmental disability or who has special needs.  And I’m sure many of those families go through days of joy and days of heartbreak – and the word “retarded” is not part of their family vocabulary.

Speaking personally, I never thought it was acceptable conversation to call someone a “retard” any more than finding any shred of acceptability in calling someone of Italian descent a “guido” or calling a follower of Islam a “towel head.”  And being related to someone with special needs or who has developmental disabilities does not give you the license to use the word “retard” any more than suggesting the word “faggot” is okay to add to your vernacular because some of your best friends are gay.  It’s wrong, and it won’t be right ever again.

It’s the same reason the Office of Mental Retardation and Developmental Disabilities has changed their name to the Office for People with Developmental Disabilities.  It’s the same reason the Black Eyed Peas have a Top 10 hit with “Let’s Get It Started,” and not a Top 10 hit with “Let’s Get Retarded.”

There are words in our culture that are so offensive, so hurtful, so demeaning and so vulgar, that even TRYING to find a reason to use them demonstrably in this blog is making my stomach twinge in a very bad way.

Language can hurt as much as a punch.  Take it from someone who still suffers the slings and slices of semantic scars.

The minute you have to use the word “retard” or “faggot” or “guido” or any other vulgar sobriquet to make your point … then your point has been lost.