Michelle from The Green Study, has published a very witty and interesting post 50 Shade of Blue: The Use of Profanity at The Green Study. This made me laugh and got me thinking about my own profanities.
I love to swear.
There is something so forceful and punchy about an expletive. It hits the spot where reams and reams of endless adjectives would fail. It still feels a bit naughty and yet empowering. Particularly the C-word.
C U N T.
4 little letters: 3 consonants; 1 vowel. Awkward acronyms (Cambridge University National Trust Society). Humourous homophonic insults “See YOU next Tuesday.” A good time had by all.
In fact, should you wish to delve further into the linguistic world of cunt you will find numerous explorations of its etymology here, here and here. However, it is my personal history with cunt that I feel compelled to share.
The Cat’s Timeline of Cunt
1996: Playing outside with step-brothers. Neighbours having domestic. “You stupid faacking cunt” rings around the cul de sac. What can I say? It was a classy area. Come visit sometime. Wee 10 year old me goes inside to enquire from my step-mother the meaning of this noun.
“Oh, well I can’t tell you the meaning of that word sweetheart, your mother wouldn’t like it.” What?
“Of course, look it up the dictionary if you really want to know.”
So cunt = mega-bad-insulting word used by scary drug addict neighbour, too rude to even be uttered. Wow. It must mean something horrendous, something indescribable… oh it means fanny. WTF? Why is that so bad? I’m not even entirely sure where it is, it’s where I pee from right? (1997 was going to be a very eventful year in that department – OMG there are two holes?!)
10 Long Years of Barely Daring To Utter The Word Until…
2005: Renaissance Literature lecture at university. Dr Sexy but Monotone Voice adds a final, “and of course, cunt originates from quaint, which we witness earlier in Chaucer’s The Miller’s Tale.”
Quaint? My vagina? The source of power and shame that I had been wrestling with for the past 8 years, that glory box of pain, desire, power is quaint?! I am at UNIVERSITY, I am a WOMAN and I am HAVING SEX. Don’t call MY vagina quaint! Quaint is pathetic. Quaint is fragile and somewhat cutesy. I have the power to give life, sweet jesus waiting every month to check I wasn’t going to give life was enough of a stress in itself.
2007: Modern Literature seminar. Sweating away after pulling a fag and coffee fuelled all-nighter, just to finish this week’s primary text: Lady Chatterley’s Lover. All to discuss the following seminal moments:
`Th’art good cunt, though, aren’t ter? Best bit o’ cunt left on earth. When ter likes! When tha’rt willin’!’
`What is cunt?’ she said.
`An’ doesn’t ter know? Cunt! It’s thee down theer; an’ what I get when I’m i’side thee, and what tha gets when I’m i’side thee; it’s a` as it is, all on’t.’
`All on’t,’ she teased. `Cunt! It’s like fuck then.’
`Nay nay! Fuck’s only what you do. animals fuck. But cunt’s a lot more than that. It’s thee, dost see: an’ tha’rt a lot besides an animal, aren’t ter? – even ter fuck? Cunt! Eh, that’s the beauty o’ thee, lass!’
We ruminated over cunt for an hour. A room of thirteen 21 year old females with one 60-something year old male. I was uncomfortable. Maybe it should have been empowering. But he had chosen the excerpt and I still wasn’t quite comfortable with it.
2012: Reading The Curious Incident of The Dog in the Night-Time with a class of thirteen year olds. The c-word crops up a number of times and even in these moments of whole class reading aloud, they do not seem as shaken as I was once. And I am glad. I hope that this is a reflection of a lack of shame on their part and a willingness to see language for what it really is – ever evolving signs, sounds and symbols without the power to conjure up wickedness or leave you to face a terrible wrath, as I once feared.
2013: Still having an inner debate about the issues of profanities, wondering whether to try and abstain for good and discovering this on Pinterest:
What is your personal history of profanity?