In and Around, Like, Language

We are the generation whose fingers can’t stray away from the “like” button; the generation whose tongues naturally mimic how our peers speak; the generation that has been accused of lacking conviction in the things we say. And at the root of this phenomenon is one simple word and its surprising evolution: “like.”
By Michelle Denise L. Ferreol

We are the generation whose fingers can’t stray away from the “like” button; the generation whose tongues naturally mimic how our peers speak; the generation that has been accused of lacking conviction in the things we say. And at the root of this phenomenon is one simple word and its surprising evolution: “like.”

Bland and unpretentious, “like” used to draw little stylistic and grammatical attention unless sandwiched in the middle of a simile. As a verb, its over-simplicity often lacked the power to add further meaning to an expression—“to like” falls short of “to adore” or “to enjoy.”

Today, “like,” which can serve as an adjective, an adverb, a preposition, or a conjunction, is more than a garnish to any Valley Girl’s conversation. Noted for its unconventional use by members of the Beat Generation, and later popularized in Frank Zappa’s hit “Valley Girl,” it frequently replaces “said” (e.g., I ate his cake and he was, like, oh no you didn’t!). It can be joined with “you know’s” or significant facial expressions to make sense of an incomplete sentence (i.e., I was annoyed and he was like ... you know?). It can even be inserted to create a pseudo-pause in practically any portion of a sentence.

“Like” now acts as a filler, replacing other space-eaters such as “um” or “er.” Its usage has gotten so out of hand that people barely even notice that they use the word to fill any gaps in speech. At the University of Iowa, Assistant Business Professor Phil Davies judged the situation so dire that he created a “like” jar. By the end of the semester, Davies had collected $425 from his students’ slip-ups to donate to Habitat for Humanity.

This fall from eloquence is well-documented, particularly among younger generations. “People see it as associated with teenagers,” said Stanford Linguistics Professor Arnold Zwicky in an interview with The New York Times. “In general, variants associated with young people tend to be disdained.” But the word redeemed itself, in part, by providing the inarticulate preteen a means by which to communicate his hormonal urges in the tamest way possible. “Like,” then, has become a tool of comparison and infatuation for the Bieber nation (and some of us, besides).

Running an ad campaign with the slogan “don’t sound stupid, stop saying ‘like,’” the Academy of Linguistic Awareness highlights the word’s negative public perception. According to the ad campaign, 23-year-old Paul “used to be happy.” But when he told his girlfriend “I, like, love you,” she dumped him, and now he “cr[ies him]self to sleep every night.” Additionally, Discover Magazine relates that interviewees were perceived as less professional and less eligible for a job if they overused the word “like” when answering questions.

It’s time to reassess our linguistic choices to get rid of these problems. With enough effort and time, maybe we’ll, like, succeed. Cheers to a “like” button for that.

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