I Might Be a Language Purist (But There’s Hope for Me)

Written by Laura Oviedo-Guzmán

I don’t know whether it’s clear how much I love language. I do write for a magazine, so I must have a passion for it, right? Yes. And as of mid-December, I have a Linguistics minor to show for it— woo-hoo! Maybe my adoration results from having to figure English out as a native Spanish speaker; maybe it’s because I am very faithful to the meaning of words that people share with me. Either way, I have been fascinated with the ways in which we shift the use of words in our language for as long as I can remember. So, when one of the prompts for my Philosophy of Language (PHIL 3280, if you want to take it) class midterm paper was exactly about this, I felt electrified because I would get to talk about one of my biggest linguistic pet peeves—the term “emotional labour.” Read on to see what makes me feel like the spazztic “Roman’s Revenge” TikTok trend.

When I ponder worries about language meaning, sharing, and use, I think of TikTok. I think of this social media platform because of the curious way creators use language that I, a recent achiever of a Bachelor of Health Sciences, use to describe very specific phenomena. Terms like trauma-bond, gaslighting, anti-social, and emotional labour are employed by TikTok users to refer to experiences that do not truly fit the definition of these terms. My unease does not spring just because they have misappropriated a term; it is further stirred by the fact that the misappropriation and misuse of these words are proliferated due to how the algorithm works on this platform. Instead of outing myself as a language purist, I like to use the friction between my lexical knowledge and the vulgar use of these terms to fuel my curiosity about why we morph word-use in this manner. In this text, I will explore how words shift in meaning over time, and the limits to the freedom language users have to shift the meaning of words in a language.

The Emotional Labour of Explaining Emotional Labour

Anxieties about how language changes are not unique to me, my time, or this particular social media site. People have attributed the plight of language to the use of the word “like” for decades, claiming that people are pulling it into grammatical categories where it does not belong. Some even liken the use of “like” in this context to an epidemic and suggest that a speech pathologist curtail this particular use (Sankin, 2017). While I would not pathologize for the misuse of a term, I want to allow my eyes to roll whenever I hear someone use the term emotional labour when referring to, for example, lending a friend a compassionate ear or asking one’s spouse to wash the dishes. However, I stopped my ocular somersault because I want to be genuinely empathic and curious about a person’s experience.

The term emotional labour was coined by sociologist Arlie Hochschild in her book Managed Hearts and describes “the process of managing feelings and expressions to fulfil the emotional requirements of a job” (1985). Emotional labour elicits certain feelings in a client, which mediate the company’s success. Common examples of professions that require this ritual are food-industry jobs, healthcare, and childcare.

Thirty years after its inception, the term has been used in feminist discussions about household chores that often go unnoticed, like organizing holiday celebrations. Using the term to denote the exhaustion felt by completing this task and having one’s efforts taken for granted constitutes misuse. The same can be said of using emotional labour to refer to one’s attempts to manage other people’s emotions, like when one spends time cooking and decorating for an event to elicit happiness in others. Employing emotional labour in both of these instances is inappropriate because, in the first example, the discussion is around actions that are strictly considered work. There is no discussion of how the agent is managing their emotions regarding the chores they are doing. In the second example, the discussion is about managing other people’s emotions, not one’s own, which is not what emotional labour constitutes.

The extension of the term emotional labour is an example of concept creep. This term refers to the semantic expansion of harm-related topics to include topics which would not have been originally envisaged to be included under that label (Haslam et al., 2021). According to various sources, the concept creep of emotional labour reached its peak in 2018. This is the same year author Gemma Hartley published Fed Up: Emotional Labor, Women, and the Way Forward, based on her own Harper’s Bazaar article from the previous year in which she mistakenly labels things that really fall under mental or physical work, like using her encyclopedic knowledge of her children’s school dietary lunch guidelines to make their food, as emotional labour. Based on my observations on TikTok and discussions with disgruntled Sociology majors in 2022, we are still in the rising action portion of concept creep for this term.

This instance of concept creep/inappropriate semantic expansion is primarily due to a lack of linguistic due diligence on the language user’s part. In thinking of the process involved in the re-assignment of meaning concerning the term emotional labour, I picture an individual rightfully frustrated by the asymmetrical split of household chores, eager to share their experiences with others who might relate or offer a solution. Most people do not conceptualize domestic work as literal labour, likely because it is unremunerated and therefore seen as worth less than paid work. I think this idea, coupled with the wrongful equivalence that domestic and relational matters (outside of the office) are necessarily “emotional,” is what led some people to couple the words “emotional” and “labour” to describe household management and the burden it disproportionately places on women. Emotional labour would go on to describe the fatigue felt by having people disclose difficulties and helping them navigate their turmoil. If someone is helping their loved ones with their emotions, then it follows that they are performing labour with emotions… so, emotional labour, right? Essentially, people did not do their research and came up with a shorthand to communicate their frustrations.

I am a staunch supporter of the idea that language exists to serve us, not the opposite. As users of a language with endless creativity, we can create and evolve language to describe our realities. However, the misuse of emotional labour is not an example of this. The misuse of this term, as I have outlined above, is actually a disservice to ourselves because using this term to discuss personal matters makes the discussion more confusing since this term has a pre-established meaning. Additionally, emotional labour is used as a catch-all term to discuss the burden of doing things outside of a paid role, from household management to connecting with loved ones. The extension of the term was so bad that the sociologist responsible for it was quoted saying she was “horrified” by people’s misuse (Beck, 2018).

While a year of seemingly climactic misuse of emotional labour, 2018 also saw a slew of articles on what emotional labour truly means. One of these articles is an interview between Hochschild, who invented the term, and the senior editor for the Atlantic, Julie Beck. The interviewer asks the sociologist if she is comfortable expanding the term’s definition, adding that “language evolves.” Hochschild responds that she is not comfortable with the overextension of the term because it makes the thinking “a little blurrier” and lacks class perspective when one can cite that “calling a maid to clean the bathtub [...] is too burdensome,” constituting emotional labour. Later on in the interview, she says, “[we are] trying to have an important conversation but having it in a very hazy way, working with [a] blunt concept.” Hochschild thinks the answer is to be more precise and careful in our ideas to bring this conversation to different contexts in a helpful way (Beck, 2018).

Someone reading my words might think I am appealing to authority. I am dazzled by Hochschild and firm in my discomfort about the vulgar use of emotional labour because she is a highly decorated sociologist. She said people were misusing her term. I would say I am guilty of this if she had not gone to great lengths to study the phenomena labelled by the term, carefully classified what emotional labour looks like, and subsequently mindfully devised a pairing of words to describe said phenomena. In other words, we can experiment with language and express ourselves how we want. However, there are limits to that freedom because we cannot re-assign meaning to a term that was carefully coined to communicate clearly about a specific issue in our society. Because this term is her brainchild, which came about after rigorous research, it is appropriate and necessary that Hochschild reminds us of the limits to our linguistic freedom where the overextension of emotional labour is concerned. If we are not on the same page, her intervention at least ensures we are reading the same book.

References

Arlie Russell Hochschild. (1985). The managed heart: commercialization of human feeling. University Of California Press.

Beck, J. (2018, November 26). Arlie Hochschild: Housework Isn’t “Emotional Labor.” The Atlantic; The Atlantic. https://www.theatlantic.com/family/archive/2018/11/arlie-hochschild-housework-isnt-emotional-labor/576637/

Boston.com Staff. (2011, July 19). Literally the most misused word. Www.boston.com. https://www.boston.com/culture/lifestyle/2011/07/19/literally-the-most-misused-word/

Definition of LITERALLY. (n.d.). Www.merriam-Webster.com. https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/literally

Hartley, G. (2017, September 27). Women Aren’t Nags—We’re Just Fed Up. Harper’s BAZAAR. https://www.harpersbazaar.com/culture/features/a12063822/emotional-labor-gender-equality/

Haslam, N., Tse, J. S. Y., & De Deyne, S. (2021). Concept Creep and Psychiatrization. Frontiers in Sociology, 6. https://doi.org/10.3389/ fsoc.2021.806147

Looking for constellations in the sky is challenging, but it is helpful to know that the coolest constellations are seasonal before you brave the cold. Thus, you might want to check a star chart to determine if the constellation you are looking for is in season. Winter constellations are among the most spectacular because they showcase the brightest stars in the sky of any season. The cold temperatures are also perfect for spotting deep-sky objects because sub-zero temperatures freeze any moisture in the air, increasing one’s visibility from the ground. Winter constellations are best viewed in the southern sky from December to March in the evening.

The winter group contains six major constellations: Orion, Canis Major, Canis Minor, Gemini, Auriga, and Taurus (there are obviously more constellations in the winter sky, but let’s keep this easy). Prominently set in the southern sky, novice stargazers can easily identify these constellations.

The winter hexagon is used to find each of the winter constellations easily. It consists of six high-magnitude stars in the winter sky; high-magnitude stars are very bright. Each star of the winter hexagon is part of a winter constellation, and they are useful as a guide to the night sky. Using stars to navigate the night sky is called star-hopping. Once the guide star is found, the lower magnitude stars that fill out the constellation’s shape are easily found.

Orion- Orion the Hunter is a prominent constellation during the winter months, owing to its central position in the south. Its seven brightest stars appear in the shape of an hourglass, and the naked eye can see the Orion Nebula located beneath “the belt” on a dark night. Illustrations show a knife holstered where the nebula sits, but I think we can all use our imagination a little. Cheap binoculars will significantly enhance this observation! Rigel is the brightest star in Orion and is one of the six guide stars in the winter hexagon.

Cannes Major- All great hunters have dogs. Fixed to Orion’s left side is the jewel of the sky, the “Dog Star,” officially called Sirius. Sirius is the brightest star in the sky, and it flickers so intensely that it often catches your eye from the ground, compelling many to call the Men in Black. Apart from the spectacle of Sirius, Cannes Major is made up of lower magnitude stars that appear faint underneath city lights.

Cannes Minor- Uh, why is this a constellation? Made up of only two stars, Cannes Minor is tiny, yet it contains one of the brightest stars in the sky, the guide star, Procyon. Find it above and to the left of Sirius. I am sure the dogs here enjoy the wilderness; not much else here for a stargazer except the guiding light of Procyon.

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Sky & Telescope (2022, March Note. Each star of the winter hexagon guide stars to find six different towards the brightest star in the inside-winter-hexagon/

References

Dickinson, T. (2013). Nightwatch: Sky & Telescope, Stellarium. (2022, andtelescope.org/observing/inside-winter-hexagon/ 6

March 22) hexagon is the brightest star from its corresponding constellation. Use these winter constellations! It is easiest to start with Rigel in Orion, then go clockwise the sky, Sirius. Retrieved January 19, 2023. https://skyandtelescope.org/observing/

Gemini- Baby, what’s your sign? The constellation Gemini is the third astrological sign of the zodiac, and it boasts two high-magnitude stars, Pollux, and Castor, nicknamed “The Twins”; these are the guide stars. All twelve zodiac constellations follow the ecliptic line, the line where the sun appears to travel across the sky (Dickinson, 2013). All the bodies in the solar system, moons, planets, asteroids, etc., follow this line too. Find them!

Auriga- Look up! Directly above your head on a balmy winter evening, you will discover five high-magnitude stars in the shape of a pentagon; enter Auriga! With a set of binoculars and a reasonably dark sky, three different star clusters from the Messier catalogue (M36, M37, M38) can be seen as dusty splotches in and around the bottom half of Auriga. The guide star in Auriga is called Capella, and it points the way to our last constellation, Taurus.

Taurus- Orion gets all the attention, but I am telling you now—it’s all bull. Taurus is the second astrological sign of the Zodiac, and it is the prize of the winter sky. The guide star, Aldebaran, is a red giant 45 times the diameter of our Sun and is part of the Hyades star cluster (Dickinson, 2013). The bull’s tail is resolved at the Pleiades (M45) star cluster, which looks like a tiny dipper. Cheap binoculars will reveal hundreds of stars between these two clusters, making it the most spectacular constellation in the winter sky!

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Over five years ago, I watched a video of a cow that people rescued from a slaughterhouse that recognized its rescuers. This cow ran to greet those that rescued them, plopped its little (big) head into the man’s lap, and then the video showed the cow playing with a ball. While watching that video, I realized that cows are just oversized dogs. Perhaps my association is far-reaching, but it made me realize I did not want to eat meat anymore. In this piece, I will speak about my journey thus far of being vegetarian and how I feel my health has improved since making this switch. This piece will speak about food and briefly about my relationship with food. If this is something that may be difficult to read, please feel free to skip the rest of what I have written.

The next morning, after apologizing to my dog for having eaten his far, distant relatives, I announced to my family that I would no longer be eating meat. I was 17 then, and it has been five years since I last consumed meat. I will note that I am a huge lover of animals, often preferring them over any human company. I’m not here to be another voice telling you to change your diet to exclude meat. Frankly, it’s not any of my business to say that a non-meat diet is superior to a meat-eating diet. However, it does feel good when you are conscientious about what you put in your body and how it is grown, fed, developed, or created.

To begin with, I was never the biggest meat eater. Initially, I thought being a pescetarian was a good start. Then, like the cow video that started this all, I watched a video of a fish (I think it was a salmon) that was playing a game with a human where they swim into his hands. The human would pick them up and gently toss the fish, and then the fish would swim back to start the process all over again. Within that first week, I cut out all meat, including all sea animals.

The transition for me was rather easy. I never craved any meat, even when my mom made chicken adobo. I had fun learning how to make my favourite dishes vegetarian, and thankfully, mushroom adobo is just as good, maybe even better. It was new and exciting, and it helped me step into new areas of cooking.

Not to mention, my groceries are not as expensive as they would be with meat. Except when I get cashews - nuts are so damn expensive.

Being vegetarian has improved not just my physical health but also my mental, emotional, and spiritual health. I used to be quite the avid napper - I would come home from school and nap. Once I finished either field hockey practice or a game, I would nap. I used to even take naps during my spare period in high school. While I am still a lover of being unconscious, I no longer feel exhausted at the end (or middle) of my days and need to take a 1-2 hour “power nap.” I feel I have more energy; with this energy, I’ve also stopped drinking as much caffeine. This change in energy was something that I noticed within my first six months of becoming vegetarian. It is important to note that vegetarians and vegans are more likely to become deficient in iron and vitamin B12, so vitamin supplements are always a good choice.

One of the things I am most grateful for is my relationship with food has also improved. My relationship with food in my teenage years felt complex, and I will be honest in saying there are still times I feel this complexity. The transformation of my relationship with food is not from being vegetarian alone; there was a lot of work I had to do to get where I am now. However, vegetarianism played a major role in my understanding of what it means to nourish my body. I learned that when I feel good about what I am putting into my body, my mind also feels good about my actions. In a way, I was able to mend my perception of food. Spiritually, it allows me to feel more connected to this world, and plants seeds of appreciation for the life that exists here that nourishes us.

Thinking about the challenges of being vegetarian, the only one that comes to mind is that sometimes it can be challenging to find a restaurant. While many restaurants offer vegetarian dishes or versions of dishes, they can often be limited to one or two choices, be tasteless (or even overly flavourful), or just simply be completely disappointing. It is possible to find restaurants offering numerous options and great-tasting food, but this is where I have struggled the most.

As mentioned before, I enjoyed learning to make my favourite dishes vegetarian, as well as learning new recipes and building off them. In this piece, I am including two of my very own recipes, as well as my friend, Rayyan’s recipe. Please note that I do not use any measuring devices when I cook; I simply go off of what feels right and tastes right. Luckily, for this article, I decided to cook all three and actually measure how I make them so that there is a recipe to follow, and hopefully, it turns out just as well for you. These are also bank account-friendly recipes, and they aren’t hard to make, but they sure are delicious. I present my mushroom adobo, teriyaki tofu bowl, and Rayyan’s samosa recipes.