COVID-19 is changing the way we speak to one another – and it’s lovely

If our rapid adoption of a new lexicon in the wake of disaster tells us anything about us as a species, it’s probably that we all feel a need to understand things going on around us, especially the difficult things. In some cases, though, there’s also a hint of something perhaps more fundamentally human going on. (Image via Shutterstock)

By Mike Scott, mscott@stph.org

Lots of things change in the wake of mass crises. That’s just the way the world works. But one of the more intriguing and unexpected side-effects of widespread upheaval is what it often tends to do to language.

Time and again in recent American history, the moment things go sideways, we all suddenly find ourselves pressing certain words into daily service that we had rarely, if ever, used before.

Remember “hanging chads” after Florida’s 2000 election debacle? Or the emergence of references to “ground zero” and “box cutters” after the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks?

Those who lived in the blue-tarped world that was southern Louisiana in the years after 2005’s Hurricane Katrina will likely remember the sudden, widespread use of such words as “overtop,” “contraflow” and “toxic gumbo.” (Also: “Look and leave,” “FEMA trailer” and “Brownie, you’re doing a heckuva job.”)

If you’re watching closely, you might see a similar phenomenon taking root right now, in the COVID-19 era.

Think about it: How many times before March did you regularly use words like “N95,” “Zoom” and “social distancing”? How about “flatten the curve,” “hand hygiene” and “PPE”?

Now, how many times have you used or heard those words since?

If our rapid adoption of a new lexicon in the wake of disaster tells us anything about us as a species, it’s probably that we all feel a need to understand things going on around us, especially the difficult things.

In some cases, though, there’s also a hint of something perhaps more fundamentally human going on.

Think back to the days after Hurricane Katrina when two people from South Louisiana who hadn’t seen each other in a while ran into each other. Reliably, one would greet the other with four somber words, often offered in hushed tones: “How’d you make out?”

No context was needed. Everybody knew exactly what was being asked, and they recognized the genuine neighborly concern behind it.

A similar dynamic has been at work in the age of COVID-19, but instead of taking place when two people meet, it happens when they part.

Specifically, in lieu of saying “goodbye” -- or “see you in the funny papers” or “don’t let the door hit you” – more and more people are saying things like “be well,” “be safe” or “stay healthy.”

What’s interesting in this case is that such well-wishes are often extended by perfect strangers, whether it’s the cashier at Acquistapace’s, the wise-cracking guy behind the counter at the Mandeville Post Office or the masked person who runs your food out to your car for curbside pickup at the Beck-N-Call Café.

It’s hard not to notice, and it’s hard not to feel good when somebody says it.

It’s also hard not to wonder what it is about people – what deep-down-inside urge – prompts them to do it.

“Gosh, it’s just our desire to be connected, especially in a crisis,” said St. Tammany Health System’s Colleen Hughes, a licensed clinical social worker at St. Tammany Cancer Center. “It’s our instinct to want to connect with someone else, because we want to share our vulnerability and we want to acknowledge our shared humanity: ‘Are you OK?’

“Even with a stranger, it fulfills a certain need to recognize and acknowledge to one another that we’re all human. It’s the common denominator.”

While we might feel that need for connection after any mass tragedy, Hughes said it’s perfectly understandable for it to be particularly acute in the age of COVID-19, especially given social distancing requirements and the sense of isolation that can impart.

What’s even better, Hughes said, is that such well-wishes benefit both people involved.

 “It reminds me of some research I had read about smiling and how the experience of smiling makes the receiver feel better but it also makes the person smiling feel better,” Hughes said. “It has a physiological impact to reduce our stress hormones. Even when you’re forcing yourself to smile, it can have that impact.”

So what does that say about us? Maybe that we’re scared. Maybe that we’re searching for a sign of hope. Or maybe that we’re all just people who -- as much as we might pretend otherwise when we’re stuck in traffic in times of normalcy – find true comfort in other people.

“I think it also says we’re more good than anything else,” Hughes said. “It brings out the better angels of our nature. Of course, there’s going to be a person here or there who’s going to go hoard the toilet paper, but most of us are good people, and I think that reflects the goodness of our nature.

“And that’s the strangeness of it all. I think that’s the beauty that you can sometimes find in a crisis, that dichotomy of something very awful creating something beautiful.”