I’ve recently noticed that the language we use for groups of people who often get talked about far more than they get talked to: people in poverty and older people, for example – can be problematic.

Whilst in most cases it’s a result of somebody’s well-meaning attempt to be ‘kind’, good intentions do not necessarily equal good language.

The language of poverty

This piece by Naomi Eisenstadt on the Resolve Poverty site Words matter: the language of poverty is great. Her argument, in short: when we swap out the word poverty for softer, vaguer cousins like “disadvantage” or “vulnerability”, we end up being evasive. Money – or the lack of it – gets rebranded as “resources”.

That vague language lets vague assumptions creep in. “Disadvantaged” and “vulnerable” mean many things – family breakdown, addiction, crime – and when policy and media use those words instead of the plain, unglamorous truth (not enough money), we end up with a public picture of poverty that’s about behaviour instead of income. Most families struggling on low income are not struggling with any of that. They’re struggling to find the money to fix or replace essential white goods, for example.

“Needy” is another. I know why it exists. I know, again, that the intention is good. “We are fundraising for the needy”, or “providing meals for the needy”. Somebody, somewhere, meant well by it. But it’s an awful word. It defines a person entirely by what they lack. Compare it with the now fairly standard idea of person-first language (“a person experiencing poverty” rather than “a poor person”) or, in some communities, identity-first language, where people actively prefer the label first (more on that below).  I used to work near a “Ragged School”. Through today’s lens, this name is monstrous. Euphemisms help no one, and neither do diluted truths.

The language of age

Then there’s age. I have noticed, in the coverage and online commentary of Ann Widdecombe’s awful death, how often she has been described as “elderly” or “frail”. She was 78, and very much still working right up to and including the day she died. “Elderly” and “frail” aren’t facts about a person’s age. They are like a lot of the language around age and disability: it slides from describing into diagnosing. Somebody’s age becomes shorthand for what they can and can’t do, whether or not that’s borne out by the evidence. See Age Without Limits for the wonderfully positive reframing of this.

Person first, identity first

Some of this is related to what’s called person-first language: the person before the condition or circumstance. “A person living with dementia”, not “a dementia sufferer”. It’s a useful reminder for anyone who writes for a living. It forces you to check whether you are describing, diagnosing or just labelling.

But it’s worth saying that some communities – a fair chunk of the Deaf community and plenty of autistic people, for instance – actively prefer identity-first language (“a Deaf person”, “an autistic person”), for multiple (and no one needs to explain their why) reasons. So the “correct” answer, infuriatingly for those of us who like rules, is: ask, don’t assume. Some charities/advocacy organisations have canvassed supporters/members for views on language, and they should be the first point of contact for anyone writing about the subject.

There’s a creeping in at the moment of “unhoused” instead of “homeless”. I can see the thinking. “Homeless” defines someone by an absence; “unhoused” suggests a systemic failure rather than a personal one. But I’m not convinced it lands the way it’s intended. It reads, to me, as more clinical, not less. Good intentions again, possibly missing the mark.

If I had a pound for every time I have written ‘language evolves’…but it’s important to note that evolution. And for that evolution to be towards precision, not away from it. Take BAME for example. No, please take it away. I’m glad it’s fallen out of use. Lumping every ethnic minority in the country into one acronym never made sense to me, and I’m not sure how it came to be.

The correct word for today might not work by this time next year, and that’s fine (ish!). But we need to notice when a word is doing more work than we meant it to or could cause offence or risk labelling rather than describing. Like softening something that shouldn’t be softened, or hardening something that should stay soft. Pause. Ask the right people. Always use your words, obviously; just use them wisely.

…

If you’d like to know every time I publish a new post please do sign up to my free monthly newsletter.