In other respects, we’re actually quite a bit like our ancestors. We are hardly beyond taboos; we just observe different ones. Today, what we regard as truly profane isn’t religion or sex but the slandering of groups, especially groups that have historically suffered discrimination or worse. Our profanity consists of the N-word, that C-word once suitable for an anatomy book discussion of women’s bodies, and a word beginning with f referring to gay men (and some would include a word referring to women beginning with b).
It might seem strained to compare our feelings about the N-word with a bygone era’s appalled shuddering over the utterance of “By God!” But do note that I have to euphemize the N-word here in print just as someone would have once have felt compelled to say, “By Jove!”
As late as the early 1960s, an episode of “The Dick Van Dyke Show” had middle-class Everycouple Rob and Laura Petrie horrified that their son had uttered what the context suggests was the F-word. The Petries were portrayed as rather “hip” for their era, but Rob actually refers to the word as “evil.”
Today, it is the N-word that such a couple would smack down with precisely this indignation. The response is the same; only the issues of concern have changed.
Use of the N-word turned the previously beloved comedian Michael Richards into a persona non grata in 2006, led to the end of Laura Schlessinger’s syndicated radio show in 2010 and put football player Richie Incognito on the defensive for months in 2013.
Society tiptoes around a stipulation, as fragile as it is formal, that black people can use it but white people can’t. A recent book by Jabari Asim is wholly devoted to outlining the justification and parameters of this arrangement, “The N-Word, Who Can Say It and Why.”
Anthropologists call this sort of response the policing of a taboo, much as we might associate that label exclusively with distant lands. Taboos are about what we fear. In one era, it is the wrath of God; in another, hanky-panky; in ours, the defamation of groups.
We may feel that the taboo against discrimination is a moral advance. Indeed, we can celebrate that we are blissfully past the days when, in 1934, an aide to young Nelson Rockefeller would write of a new secretary, “She weighs close to 200, has red hair, and is a niggir [sic],” as Richard Norton Smith recounts in his recent biography.