“Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me.”
“I’m rubber and you’re glue… Whatever you say bounces off of me and sticks to you.”
Yeah… I would have to disagree.
I don’t think that as people, wandering around the earth, we really sit back and think about the power of words. Words can poison and words can heal. Words can elevate or words can demean. Throughout time, words have been the starting block for fallen societies or the promises from which empires could be formed. Why then do we more often than not seem to brush words off as “not real” or “just something said” or “not a big deal” so long as the words aren’t directly acted upon?
When the snake (yes, that snake) slithered out to tell Eve about all the worldly pleasures she was missing, he didn’t have anything tangible to show her; he had nothing that she could hold in her hands save for an apple, but his promises were so enticing, the pursuits he guaranteed her so tempting, she made a choice that would shape the rest of history. In relationships, words said in anger can weigh down and break apart strong foundations, or foundations that were thought to be strong. In anger insults fly, insecurities are projected back at the person who was brave enough to first share them, and then damage is done. The words replay over and over, swirling around like a penny in one of those giant funnel banks. Only, there is no curious child to grab the twirling coin prematurely, so the words go round and round until they embed themselves in a deep dark hole and become one with the inner contents — the thoughts we think when given a quiet moment or when sadness weighs us down.
Words said to purposely hurt someone else can hurt worse than anything a stick or a stone could come close to.
Words can start a revolution for better or for worse.
In college, my particular university had a four-hour credit requirement for incoming freshmen called “Ways of Knowing.” We could pick from subject matter that we found interesting (I chose history, art, and music) and were placed somewhat randomly based upon that disclosure and other scheduling needs. I found myself in a Holocaust history class every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon. More so, it was about the events leading up to it, the information we were rarely given privy to at that point coming from various high schools. As I told my husband a few nights ago “Hitler wasn’t a dictator… Until he was. He didn’t have any power, literally none, he was actually in jail for a while, until he gave speeches that played on the fears and anger of a large group of people.” He really had nothing aside from some propaganda to base his claims on, yet in a fairly short amount of time he was able to orchestrate one of the most horrifying genocides in world history. Because he was mad. Because other people were mad. Because he grew a mob, based on hateful words, then marginalized a minority group, and promised a great changed nation. Then he ran with those promises straight into disaster.
