One Word
By Hannah Rich
Almost every day, the unfairly used word “retarded” resonates through stadiums, school hallways, and even the workplace without so much as a backward glance from most. I, however, instantly shudder when I hear someone casually use “retarded” as an insult. Most people would never dream of using racial, religious, or gender slurs without expecting some stunned reaction from their audience and maybe a reprimand, yet those same people accept using a derogatory term about intellectual status with none of these concerns.
After constantly hearing people throwing around the word “retarded” without thinking about the true meaning behind it, I decided that it was time to take matters into my own hands. I have spent my time in high school crusading to abolish the word “retarded” as an insult from the vocabularies of those with whom I come in contact.
When I heard my best friend describe her boyfriend as “so retarded,” I decided to take action. I immediately informed her of a list of other words that could convey the desired negative connotation, without offending anyone—well, anyone besides the boy at least. I then continued this pattern of interrupting my friends before they could finish an insult, and adding in my own list of negative synonyms. After a while, my friends began to remember not to say the word “retarded” when I was around, just so that they could finish a story without hearing me say, “Don’t say retarded, say messed up” or some other similar phrase.
Although I knew my friends weren’t saying “retarded” around me anymore, I wanted to make sure that they really understood why I became so offended. I invited them to attend a Special Olympics soccer practice at a program for which I had just become the assistant director. Having worked with this program since I was twelve, I felt that it inspired me to realize that these children and adults are talented and interesting people, who merely want to be accepted for who they are. I hoped for the same effect on my friends.
At the beginning of the practice, my friends stood on the sidelines nervously glancing at each other, unsure how to approach any of the many special needs children walking, running or jumping around the field. As practice progressed, I noticed my friends starting to laugh and talk to the children with whom they were working. The timid “hello” from the start of practice escalated into exuberant high fives and hugs by the time the practice was over.
My friends have continued to return to practice each week, spending the last two years working with these athletes. I still hear the word “retarded” slip out of some of my friends’ mouths; however, it happens infrequently and often receives a look of reproach from others in our group.
A few weeks ago, I walked over to out lunch spot, and I overheard one friend say to another, “Don’t say retarded, say messed up,” without even giving it a second thought.
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