Having spent many years researching and writing a book about the historical criminalization of speech, I was quite chuffed to learn of a Netflix series titled, "History of Swear Words" (HSW). Each episode of this six-part "documentary" explores the history and significance of a different swear word, and is decidedly NSFW--unless you are in the happy situation of working with swear words.
Swearing experts featured in HSW include Melissa Mohr (historian and author of Holy Sh*t! A Brief History of Swearing); Kory Stamper, lexicographer; and Benjamin Bergen, cognitive scientist. Clips of these academics earnestly explaining the etymology of the f-word, or how a man's name also became a term of abuse, or why swearing increases one's pain tolerance, are chased with reaction footage from comedians such as DeRay Davis, London Hughes, and Sarah Silverman.
The comedians and actors offer more than comic relief, however. As professional practitioners of swearing, they provide the praxis to our professors' theorizing. Some have become so proficient that they've become associated with one swear word in particular. Samuel L. Jackson comes to mind (you know the word); Isaiah Whitlock, Jr. demonstrates why he's known for another (and the principle that the meaning often depends upon the delivery). One is reminded of the narrator's observation about his father in "A Christmas Story": "He worked in profanity the way other artists might work in oils or clay. It was his true medium; a master."
The meaning of swear words also often depends upon the power relations in which they're uttered, as we are reminded by film critic Elvis Mitchell and professor of feminist studies Mireille Miller-Davis. Mitchell makes an especially poignant argument about the difference between the way in which many people heard N.W.A.'s "F--- the Police" and what the group was actually expressing. And Miller-Davis observes that some targets of the b-word slur have been reclaiming the word by using it themselves, about themselves.
It's not all semiotics and the philosophy of AAVE, however. There's a fun diversion into "half-swearing"--examples given include "darn" and "geez," but one can't help but think of "Let's Go Brandon." The "Dick" episode goes a little off-track when it forgets it's supposed to be about the word, and not, well. To illustrate the sheer malleability of the f-word, we get the F*** Family Tree, which includes numerous permutations, but alas, not my personal favorite.
Tying it all together in inimitable fashion is the series host, Nicolas Cage. He greets the viewer in an impeccably tailored suit, lolling in an overstuffed armchair or sauntering to a decanter of Scotch in a Masterpiece Theater-style set. Cage clearly relishes the journey from the ridiculous (spinning out extended double-entendres) to the sublime (roaring the supreme swear word). That very same word, the series has told us, is cathartic, is pain-relieving, and is "a good protest word." For these reasons, perhaps it should be in everyone's vocabulary.
--Kristin A. Olbertson
