Okay, so I have thirteen-year-old boys in my house and they truly love saying this word. It's almost as though they feel more powerful or cool after saying it. And I have to admit I'm no prude, I like to belt it out myself on occasion. And yet, I struggle with my twins using the word too loosely. I'm constantly telling them not to talk that way around any adult, child or me. It's only okay around other adolescents, and only if they're comfortable saying the word too.
I know this rule is ridiculous and yet, I feel compelled to make sure they follow it.
The first time I heard my kids say it. They were four-years-old and I just arrived to pick them up from pre-school. Zachary ran into my arms so excited to tell me how much trouble Celina got into at school, because she said, "f*#% it" on the playground. Smiling big he asked, "Mommy, is that a bad word?"
I said, "Yes, don't repeat it anymore."
He asked, "I can't ever say that word again?"
I said, "No, don't say it again."
About two minutes into the way home Zachary says, "Mommy I'm going to do some rhyming okay?" Before I could even answer I saw his face in the rear view mirror smiling big and I knew what was coming. With his head bobbing up and down and his brother giggling as though he knew what was coming too, Zach shouts, "Bucket, f*#% it." I watched his face in the rear view mirror, smiling with a look of total satisfaction. Both he and his brother laughed with pride over his cleverness.
I couldn't help but laugh myself at his ingenuity, but then scolded, "Very funny, but you better not say it again because I won't be laughing next time."
Years later I told this story to a friend who quickly asked, "Gretta do you know what F#*% means?" I said, "Duh! Of coarse I do." He said, "No, you don't." Then proceeded to tell me the legend that explains the origin of the word F*#%.
According to my friend, after the plague wiped out most of Europe, a royal injunction was put on all women to have sex with any soldier who wanted it. This way the king could rebuild his army with a strong bloodline. Thus the word F*#% an acronym for Fornication Under Command of the King was born.
When my kids got older I shared this story with them hoping it would curb their intrigue and enjoyment of saying this word. But it didn't and why should it? It didn't curb mine!
Britain has three words that mean f*#%: blinking, bloody and blooming. So, I thought I would do an experiment and try saying those words instead of f*#%. But I soon realized I could scream these words into the streets and no one cared. Even my kids looked at me funny. And I have to admit; I didn't get the same satisfaction either. In fact, I started laughing whenever I said it.
So what's in a word? And what gives it the power? Maybe it's the "no, no" factor. But who decides which are the "no, no" words? Maybe it comes from what society teaches us: sex is bad, so f*#% is bad word, pooping is a dirty body function, so sh*# is a bad word, and anus is a dirty body part, so ass*#%* is a bad word. We've even made saying certain body parts bad too. But what makes one body part okay to say and not another? You'd never hear anyone scream, "You're an armpit!" And yet, I know there are some dirty armpits out there.
There is a social current behind certain words and they have a power and purpose. The best I can do, is teach my kids there's a time and place for everything and every word.
It's all a mystery, and although I use the word a little less now, I still enjoy saying f*#%, only now I laugh a little afterwards.
