From free speech to fear speech: When language becomes a liability
Updated: Oct 12
Originally published March 2025. Some events described here have developed since.
Tell me you’re insecure without telling me you’re insecure.
I love playing the game called Taboo. If you've ever played it before, you know that the goal is to get your teammates to guess a word without using a list of "forbidden" words. It’s fun because it forces creativity—thinking of different ways to say something without saying it directly.
But what’s NOT fun? Being forced to play Taboo in real life when it comes to talking about identity, justice, inclusion, and other matters that aren't popular with those afraid of criticism of harmful ideologies and practices.
On social media, there’s a trend that goes: Tell me you’re [something] without telling me you’re [something]. It’s usually meant as a fun or sarcastic way to highlight an obvious trait without explicitly stating it. But now, we’re being asked to do that in real life—forced to communicate about race, gender, equity, and justice without actually using the words that define them.
Apparently, we’re living in an era where saying words like "diversity", "bias, equity", "mental health", or even pronouns is too risky. The federal government, companies, and institutions are scrambling to erase these words—not because they suddenly lost meaning, but because they fear upsetting the wrong people.
Translation? They’re scared of the current administration. They’re scared of the backlash from clients, politicians, and reactionary voices who have decided that acknowledging reality is "too woke."
The hypocrisy? Some of the loudest voices claiming to be "censored" are the same ones actively participating in censorship.
They love to talk about "freedom of speech" when it comes to their own opinions, but that freedom suddenly disappears when it applies to talking about race, gender, inequality, or any other reality they find uncomfortable. Meanwhile, there are people—real people—who are genuinely afraid to exercise their right to free speech. They aren’t just worried about internet backlash; they’re worried about losing their jobs.
This isn’t about neutrality or objectivity—it’s about insecurity. When people demand the erasure of certain words, it's not because those words are harmful, but because they challenge their sense of control. Avoiding words like 'diversity' or 'equity' doesn’t change reality—it just reveals a deep discomfort with acknowledging it. It’s fear-based behavior, rooted in the worry that naming inequity means having to address it, that inclusion means loss, and that allowing open discussion means surrendering power. The demand to erase these words doesn’t come from strength or confidence; it comes from fear. Fear that acknowledging inequity means taking responsibility. Fear that diversity means loss of dominance. Fear that using the words means confronting realities some would rather ignore.
The absurdity of this censorship is glaring. For instance, the Pentagon's recent purge of diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) content led to the flagging of thousands of historically significant records. Among them was an image of the WWII bomber Enola Gay, named after the pilot's mother, which was mistakenly flagged due to the word "gay" in its name. This overreach underscores the ridiculousness of trying to erase identities and history based on misunderstood or overly broad criteria.
So now, instead of fostering inclusion, we’re expected to tiptoe around words that describe real people, real experiences, and real inequities. I love language and wordplay, but not when it’s being weaponized to make people disappear.
Take, for example, Mahmoud Khalil, a former Columbia University student who remains detained in Louisiana, his future uncertain. Or the recent move to shutter Voice of America, an organization that has long stood for press freedom and open dialogue. And then there’s the expulsion of South Africa’s ambassador, labeled a 'race-baiting' critic of Trump, signaling that even diplomatic discourse is being reshaped to fit a political narrative.
These are not isolated incidents. They are part of a broader pattern—one that seeks to silence dissent, erase inconvenient truths, and punish those who refuse to conform. This kind of strategic erasure aligns with initiatives like Project 2025, a policy blueprint that, despite being downplayed, is being used as a roadmap to reshape institutions, suppress progressive policies, and curtail discussions about diversity, equity, and inclusion.
If you have to delete reality to stay in someone's good graces, maybe it’s time to ask: Who are you really serving? And what happens when they decide that even your words are too much?
Silence is not always neutrality—it can be complicity. If we don’t push back, this pattern of erasure will continue until even the most basic conversations about justice, identity, and equity become impossible. Speak up. Challenge this erasure. Educate yourself about Project 2025 and similar efforts that seek to control narratives and limit the scope of public discourse. Awareness is the first step to resisting these changes, and staying informed is a powerful tool against erasure. Use your words, because giving them up is exactly what many are hoping you will do. And what happens when they decide that even your words are too much?
