Apparently, language matters. Go Figure.
**I took this off of my substack page. I figured, why have a substack when I have a website?**
Let’s get semantical.
My niece recently told me how much she hates short cars. In a short car, she told me, you’re susceptible to momentary blindness as taller cars enter your rearview mirror. Their relative height and Tesla-blinding beams hitting the mirror’s sweet spot work the ocular cavity in ways drivers of taller cars don’t experience. Hoity-toity, tall car drivers can never really know the pain my niece knows.
Being a driver of a Toyota Corolla (the true mark of success), I know all too well the pain of Short Car Glare Ocular Discomfort (SCGOD—not yet recognized by the American Medical Association). I identified right away with her frustration—no further explanation needed. I felt seen. She felt seen. My sister, however, didn’t get it. Typical Sienna Driver.
As my niece described her discomfort, my sister, Jen, seemed genuinely perplexed. “What difference does it make if your car is short?” Are you serious? Does she not understand the laws of physics? I mean, I don’t, but certainly she must, right? I do understand that if I squat down and stare into a headlight, it’s going to hurt my ocules (technical term). Ipso facto, short + bright light = eye owie. How not smart could she be?
Outraged at her lack of smart, I intelligently asked, “Jen, do you know how short works?”
After an eyebrow-trimming eye roll, she replied, “How does the length of your car impact glare?” Truth be told, if I had to answer that question, I could—obviously, glare more hurtie up close than far. But she raises an interesting point.
Turns out, the opposite of long is in fact short. But what’s the opposite of tall? Also short. Get it? We were both right. I was more right, because I knew what my niece was talking about and you can’t shame my ocular trauma, but Jen was also a little right.
First, let me ask, why is English so dumb? If something is standing on end, we say it’s tall. No one asks, “How long are you?” I mean, they might, but that’s not appropriate. Grow up. But if something’s laying down, we don’t ask how tall it is, we ask how long it is. But if it’s short? Horizontal or vertical, doesn’t matter. Short.
I, for one, am outraged on behalf of short people everywhere. Why can’t we be more descriptive on their behalf? “How low are you?” “My, you’re petite.” Maybe my niece should have said she hates diminutive cars. That would have cleared the whole thing up. “The 2025 Toyota Corolla. Diminutive.”
Could you BE more specific (read in a Chandler Bing tone)?
It’s funny how much language matters. But what did The Giver give us, if not precision of language. According to Lois Lowry, speakers should use the correct words that convey their exact meaning. That sounds easy enough.
We’re so bad at it, though. When I ask couples to talk with each other about what’s going on, what they are feeling, the speaker will inevitably begin to describe, in great detail, the other person’s actions. To be fair, they do often using extremely precise language. Of course, the listener—their partner or spouse—will disagree with that precision of language. “That’s not how it happened!” “That’s not what I said! You’re gaslighting me!” (We’ll cover what is and isn’t gaslighting in a future post). Sometimes, if I let them, couples will even fight over the exact time, sometimes even exact minute, that something occurred. To which I reply not-so-politely, “Guys, I don’t care about the details.” So maybe precision of language doesn’t matter? Thanks, Lois.
Precision DOES matter. But it matters that we know what we are being precise about. Being precise about what you think the other person said or did isn’t effective, not to mention accurate. Our memories are actually pretty fallible (see here for a good explanation). So, if we can’t be precise about what we think happened, what can we be precise about?
The only thing we really know for sure in most situations is how we feel about something (how you feel will directly impact how you remember). Yes, that can also be something of a moving target at times, but it can’t really be refuted. If my wife says something to me and my feelings get hurt, I can always precisely say, “My feelings are hurt.” If I feel sad about something or something makes me angry, I can accurately say, without need of defense, “I feel sad or angry.” Once that precise language has been spoken, we can more accurately move forward in a direction that can be much more productive. She would be less likely to argue with me because I haven’t accused her of anything…like being diminutive.
Of course, there’s much more to be explored in what that conversation might look like, but that is for future posts. For now, the next time you notice a car that is low to the ground or maybe short in length, point at said car and state precisely, “That car makes me sad.”
You’re welcome.
Rob Porter, Ph.D., Couple Therapist and Precise Linguist. Austin, TX