The F-Bomb is Ours

Warning: If the F-bomb offends you kindly discontinue reading this post.

The f-bomb officially belongs to middle-aged women. Language morphs over time and meanings can alter. This word is not immune to those changes. I hear the f-bomb more often than not as an adjective, void of malice. We started to claim this word in our voice, at a time when power, once belonging to men, began to shift and our power grew. With it, came our verbal expression around this word. It is a chameleon lexicon that reflects well who we are.

It is cruel when spoken with hate, any word is, and can be intensely passionate when expressed with love. “I fucking love you,” isn’t that the best? Its culinary quality is equally rewarding in “this tastes so fucking good.” We have far more ways to employ the word as a stellar descriptive, and we do it creatively and magnificently. A fabulous pair of shoes at an incredible price is a “great fucking deal.” A glass of wine “is fucking necessary,” and the slice of pizza is “fucking fattening.” And the list continues. We use it as a term that goes beyond beautiful, even amazing. It’s in the realm of awesome. It’s in that outer peripheral that this word works so well. Like other curse words, this one came with a Germanic background and was brought to us courtesy of the Dutch around the 15th century. We owe them our thanks.

We no longer are the apron-wearing gals, sporting high heels while cooking a meal waiting for our man. Those days are fucking gone. We’re fucking busy earning a fucking living while dealing with the rest of world which at times can be fucked up. Fortunately, our partner fucking loves us, and our loyal dog is so fucking cute. Not to mention our gorgeous cat who has a fucking attitude. There’s a paragraph that takes us into a sharper realm of who we are.

Any way you cut it, the f-bomb reflects the chameleon aspect of a woman of our age like no other. No word can envelop or suffice for those occasions that need to be dialled up. “I’m not fucking signing that,” is an invitation for legal intervention, and “you better clean that fucking mess” is something more then a Swifter can handle. “I’m not fucking around,” is clear that you’re already standing at the line in the sand.

Fuck is a one syllable word that middle-aged women love and have adapted to their ever-changing lives. It’s succinct, to the point and simple with a clear-cut definition. Like a strand of pearls except this baby falls off the lips. I adored the Italian mothers I knew growing up who used this word sparingly and with hand motions. But, when they did, it was hilarious and fearsome at the same time. I recall watching their sons take off, screen door slamming behind, as they ran scared shitless when their mother dropped the f-bomb. They were aware that she knew what they were up to and she meant business.

Simplicity is the result of working out the complexities. We like one syllable words. The word love works for us, as do the words, men, kids, home, pets, work, cell, and car. Fuck fits beautifully into that vocabulary. It’s also versatile, and I know of no woman that doesn’t appreciate something both smart and handy in its application. It can serve as a noun, verb, adverb, passive verb, a transitive verb and intransitive one. It can also fill in for almost every word in a sentence as in “fuck those fucking fuckheads who fucked us.”

Because we were the last generation of women who transitioned from home-economics to the boardroom, it stands to reason our ownership of the f-bomb best reflects who we have become. That’s the beauty of language. As middle-aged women, using that word in one’s communication can be light and amusing or indignant if one is pissed off. The f-bomb can possess a negative connotation, and women do use it that way, especially if you stub your toe, get cut off while driving or go through a messy divorce. Better to use that word then get a fucking ulcer from holding it all in. It’s perfection. But, they use it far more regularly outside of that realm as in “this is fucking delicious” or “where is the fucking Chardonnay?” Hostility infused is how we inherited the f-bomb, and it continues to have that application, but it’s a tad duller in that forum from how it once was. True to its chameleon nature, it’s powerful in whichever intention one wishes to employ. It can serve as a release when one is angry, and it can augment a moment of excitement and be exhilarating. It satisfies both equations. We tend to use the word as a superlative as in that’s “fucking amazing!”

I love this word probably because it liberated me from my intensely Catholic upbringing. Catholic school is where I learned about sex, drugs rock ‘n’ roll and cussing. All incongruent skills from a belief system professing to teach otherwise. Ironically, that baptism of truth gave way to the f-bomb. I could only imagine Christ saying “I fucking love you, but you’ve got to get your shit together as humanity?” I do wonder if God is thinking “what the fuck are you doing to my planet?” A statement delivered with undeniable clarity. It’s that laser comprehension making something crystal clear in an economy of words.

It’s only a word but a good one. For those that object, I ask what kind of meaning are you giving it? For men who find it offensive for a woman to cuss, I ask, why are you threatened? If we have an emotional charge around this word, then it’s not the speech that’s the issue, but rather the belief system behind it that requires examination. I’m not saying exercise it with regularity. That is overkill and diminishes its otherwise unique use. I’m also not telling you to teach the toddlers around you to ask for a “‘fucking cookie.” I’m saying notice how multidimensional it is. Those that are righteous and cannot tolerate even entertaining this word can be the same architects of deeds that are fucking despicable.

It is undoubtedly colourful language that can entertain and engage the listening of audiences. George Carlin used it well as do a slew of other comedians.  The f-bomb speaks to sincerity and unfettered feelings. The truth is, people who cuss are far more honest and authentic than those that don’t. Researchers found, those that scored higher on the honesty scale also scored high on the profanity scale and were less likely to be lying or in deception.

My mother was a church-going rosary praying woman who dropped the f-bomb on occasion when she was pissed off or in pain. At first, she would say it under her breath, and we would all bend over laughing until we cried. Initially, she had massive resistance around this word, but sometimes the physical discomfort she suffered from was too much. Easily annoyed and with a lower threshold to pain, she would use it. Bless her soul. I saw the liberation she felt by releasing that word off of her lips into the world and feeling a little nasty in doing so. More importantly how relieved she was afterwards in how a word could make her feel better while making others laugh hysterically all at the same time.

There are gurus on U-tube who preach the positive virtues of the word. The f-bomb only has the power we choose to give it. If we believe it’s offensive, then it is. If we think it’s funny, then it’s that. In France, the cuss words are based on the church. Anything around sex doesn’t have the same obscenity. Consequently, it’s no longer taboo in the French language broadcast in Canada. It doesn’t have the same connotation in French as it does in English, so it got the green light as being deemed acceptable, providing the f-bomb is not utilized in a derogatory way.  It’s on HBO 24/7, in lyrics to hip-hop songs, in content on platform sharing sites like Netflix and in music videos to name a few. To be righteous around it is far more terrifying than the word itself.

But it’s our word now, representing our demographic, changes, frustrations, struggles and successes. It no longer belongs exclusively to men. It doesn’t diminish us in any way when we use it as being less professional, smart or feminine. Behind it, is our perception, built upon it is our new belief system.  It’s only a word that until a better one comes along, will represent our no bullshit attitude with a passion and precision that currently no other word in the English language can satisfy. It can cause separation or create unity. Used by leaders of nations, musicians, politicians, artists and actors, most recently by Robert De Niro, its legacy is impressive. Uttered by those that we respect while showing up in texts of some of the most celebrated literary minds. If the masters of the written word can see its redeeming quality, then it’s difficult to debate it as being void of any.

After having shoulders pass through our vagina, child labour alone are grounds to instigate using this word. As is divorce, death and disease. To my sisterhood who can find the liberation in this one syllable word and use it with the light that it can possess, I say right on. All language is caustic when it’s infused with hatred. When it’s coated in hilarity and released, it can transfer itself and the words around it into amusement and that ultimately connects us.

To my girlfriends who drop the f-bomb when they are talking about their hot flashes, their kids moving back home, short tempers or zero tolerance to the bullshit that happens in their life, I say to you – I fucking’ love you!

The Ever Versatile F-Bomb

Greeting: How the fuck are you girlfriend?
Surprise: These are fucking gorgeous!
Romance: I fucking love you!
Kindness: That was so fucking generous. Thank you
Fraud: The contractor fucked me over.
Laughter: That’s fucking hysterical
Hostility: I’m feeling fucking agitated today
Trouble: You’ll need a fucking lawyer!
Enjoyment: We had the best fucking time.
Request: Kindly get the fuck out of my face.
Aggression: Fuck you, utility company!
Gratitude:  I’m fucking grateful.
Displeasure: What the fuck?!
Difficulty: I don’t fucking understand.
Incompetence: He fucked-up again.
Innovation: Get a better fucking strategy in place.
Ignorance: Fucked if I know.
Suspicion: What the fuck are you doing?
Apathy: Who gives a fuck?
Anxiety: Today is fucked up.
Sexy Time: That was fucking awesome!