Writing Radically

So often in communications, we obsess over saying the “right” thing. When you’re put in charge of an organization’s brand, your top priority is to make that brand look good—and part of that responsibility is making sure your copy (regardless of medium) is written “correctly.”

But—as communicators for social change—using language “correctly” can’t be our sole priority. Our language must also be radical.

A few weeks ago, I attended The Communications Network’s annual conference in Seattle, where I had the opportunity to attend a session led by Alex Kapitan, also known as the Radical Copyeditor. Alex’s session focused on our consciousness of language in communications: how we can communicate effectively while understanding that words have power to hurt and heal; and that the language we choose should focus on what people want or need rather than being “correct.”

Alex reiterated that writing, editing, and even language itself can be radical when done with care and intention.

What is “radical?”

I thought deeply about the word “radical” and what it truly means. The first time I heard the word in any professional context was from Tonya Allen, who spoke of “radical love.” “‘Radical,’” Tonya wrote, “is to champion significant social change. ‘Love’ is to act in favor of others, for the betterment of people.”

So what does it mean to write, communicate, and edit “radically?” How can something like calling someone their preferred pronouns or using terms they prefer to describe their medical condition champion social change?

To me, it’s about giving people the power to shape the language we use to describe them.

Language is a tool used by those in power to control marginalized groups. By dictating what language is used to describe a certain group of people, they control the narratives surrounding those people and the way they are viewed by the majority population. People in marginalized groups have seen this time and time again.

Giving people the power to control the language that surrounds them gives them the power to control the narratives surrounding them and the power to be their true selves in the stories we share about them.

A practical application

I’ll give a personal example: My family is from Mexico, and people often question how they should refer to my ethnic identity. Hispanic? Latino? Latinx? Latine?

Each of these words has their own history and their own context, and the phrase I might prefer depends on the context: if I’m referring to myself in the context of people with similar backgrounds, I’ll usually use “Latine,” as it’s gender-neutral and acknowledges the Spanish root of the word. But, if I’m referring to just myself, I’ll usually use “Mexican” because it describes my family’s country of origin.

A radical writer (or editor) doesn’t focus on the “right” way to refer to someone’s ethnicity, gender, religion, disability, or other identifiers—they simply ask what language the subject prefers to use to describe themselves. While “Hispanic” is the legal term used to describe my ethnicity and “Latinx” is seen as the most socially acceptable today, all that matters is I get to decide what words are used to describe my identity.

A language of love

Radical language champions change because it puts word choice in the hands of people who are reflected through them. It shows the people we care for and the communities with which we work love—love that’s rooted in empowering people to control the narratives surrounding them and the communities they come from.

In other words, radical love.

Communications is often seen as a support role—we use our skill sets to strengthen and deepen the work of others. But we also hold a tremendous power to shape narratives and stories, along with a responsibility to wield that power with care for the communities and people we work with; to empower them to control the language surrounding their identities; and to give them a voice in the choices we make in our work.

That is writing radically. And writing radically is an act of radical love.