The Euphemism Treadmill
Taboo. 850 words, 4 minute read. With Claude Sonnet and Midjourney.
Principal Hargrove's voice echoed through Westridge Academy's assembly hall. "Today we take a bold step toward a more inclusive community."
On the screen behind him appeared a short list of obvious slurs beneath the title "The Verboten List."
"Our new AI system—WordGuard—will monitor all communications, flagging harmful language to ensure a safe space." Hargrove beamed. "The list will evolve as the AI learns what causes harm."
Emma Chen, notebook in hand, felt relieved. Last month, anonymous comments on her article had been vicious enough to make her consider quitting the paper.
Beside her, Zach slouched lower. "This is going to backfire so hard."
"It's just targeting hate speech," Emma whispered. "Maybe now people will focus on ideas instead of insults."
"They don't stop thinking it. They just find new ways to say it."
Prisha Agarwal, student council president and vocal supporter of WordGuard, turned to glare at them. "Some of us are trying to listen."
In the back row sat Lucas Zhang, a quiet sophomore from Emma's journalism class, watching with unusual intensity.
Three weeks later, Emma sat in the journalism lab, staring at her computer screen:
WORDGUARD ALERT: Potential violation detected. Term "tone-deaf" may constitute ableist language.
"That's the fourth flag in one article," Emma muttered.
Ms. Chen appeared beside her. "The algorithm's parameters have... expanded considerably. The Verboten List now includes over seven hundred terms."
The door swung open as Lucas strolled in, twenty minutes late. Emma barely recognized him. The once-silent sophomore now moved with loose-limbed confidence, his bag covered in marker scribbles.
"Another detention?" Ms. Chen sighed.
"Two, actually." He handed her the pink slips. "Apparently 'verbal prison' and 'thought warden' made the list overnight."
Several students—including serious-minded Daniela from honor society—snickered appreciatively.
Lucas slid into the desk next to Emma's. He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a spiral of banned words written in black ink. "Last semester, I gave a presentation on ocean acidification. Nobody looked up. Yesterday I whispered 'lexical contraband' in the cafeteria, and three seniors invited me to their table."
"You're risking expulsion for popularity?"
"I was invisible for sixteen years. Now people actually listen." He tapped his sleeve. "These aren't just words—they're power."
Later, Emma spotted Prisha frantically scrubbing ink from her hand.
"Word Roulette?" Emma asked.
Prisha's eyes widened. "I was just observing. As student council president—"
"You weren't participating? Because that ink looks like—"
"I still support WordGuard," Prisha interrupted, flushing. "We need rules."
In the cafeteria the next day, students huddled in tight circles, conversations punctuated by sudden laughter. Emma observed Lucas sitting among seniors, sophomores, and even a teacher's assistant, all leaning in as he spoke.
"What's he telling them?" she asked Zach.
"Poetry. The explicit kind they don't teach here. Mixes in banned words like linguistic landmines."
"Since when do jocks care about poetry?"
"Since it became forbidden fruit. Look—it's everyone."
Emma spotted Ms. Abernathy, the sixty-year-old librarian, showing something on her phone to another teacher, both suppressing smiles. Near the lunch line, Prisha had what looked like fresh ink stains on her fingers.
"Even Prisha," Emma murmured. "She helped design the policy."
"Everyone wants the forbidden words now," Zach replied. "The more they ban, the more people want them."
A commotion erupted at the cafeteria entrance. Principal Hargrove stormed in, heading straight for Lucas's table.
"Mr. Zhang, your phone," he demanded. "We have reason to believe you're circulating prohibited content."
Lucas calmly handed it over. "No password. Go ahead."
Hargrove scrolled through, face reddening. "You're distributing prohibited vocabulary and... inappropriate creative writing."
"It's called poetry," Lucas replied loudly. "Maybe you've heard of it?"
"This isn't a joke. This is your third violation. You'll report for suspension paperwork."
As security escorted Lucas out, he called over his shoulder: "Anybody want copies, talk to Prisha! She's got the best collection!"
All eyes swiveled to Prisha, who sat frozen as Hargrove turned toward her.
Later, Emma and Ms. Chen stepped into the hall to find a crowd gathered around the bulletin board where the original Verboten List had been posted. It was now covered in handwritten additions—hundreds of words spiraling outward.
At the center stood Prisha, still in her student council blazer, marker in hand.
"What are you doing?" Emma asked.
"Making a point." Prisha gestured to the sprawling collection. "If they're going to ban language, they should be honest about how much."
"What is going on here?" Principal Hargrove's voice thundered down the hall.
He stopped short seeing Prisha. "Ms. Agarwal? You? Our student council president?"
Prisha straightened. "Yes, me. The same student who helped design this policy because I thought it would make people kinder." She gestured to the word-covered board. "But this isn't kindness—it's silence."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the gathered students.
Emma stepped forward. "Principal Hargrove, would you care to comment on how banning words has made them more powerful and appealing? And how even WordGuard supporters like Prisha are now participating in banned language activities?"
A buzz of phones swept through the crowd—another school-wide email:
Due to technical concerns, WordGuard will be temporarily suspended pending system review.
A cheer erupted from the gathered students.
Later, as Emma walked with Zach, he asked, "Think they'll actually fix it or just rebrand it?"
"I don't know," she replied, watching Lucas surrounded by students hanging on his every word. "But I don't think they can put these words back in the box."
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