In the Gray Area Between Intent and Effect

"Say what you mean."

That's advice I've given to parents of children with developmental disabilities and differences, who often don't understand that words can say one thing and mean another. For our little literal thinkers, sarcasm and figures of speech soar far overhead. Clever wordplay will get you nowhere with a child who will do exactly what you say, even though you feel that you clearly meant the opposite.

"Why don't they say what they mean?"

That's what my daughter says angrily about her school classmates, whose conversation is full of slangy and figurative and passive-aggressive language. Teen girls never say what they mean -- how uncool! -- and that's a nightmare for a kid who can't see past the actual factual syllables being spoken. Embarrassment and misunderstanding stretch out before her like a minefield as she tries to negotiate the incomprehensible ambiguities of language.

"It's mean to say that."

That's the message I have to give my son all too often these days. He's in an "I hate you" stage, generally aiming it at people he's decided hated him first, but sometimes swinging that nasty phrase at the dog or a parent or a girl he used to like. He often picks up phrases like this from a TV show or a movie and tries them out in a variety of situations; in some of them it seems appropriate, in others not, but in all cases his use of the language is more perseverative than expressive. That's not going to stop people from being hurt by his words, though, or making judgments about him because of them.

"I didn't mean it that way."

That's the excuse we're hearing now from the folks behind Tropic Thunder, who figure it's okay to use hate-filled words as long as you're making fun of the characters who are saying them. Like my son, they're using words that are in the pipeline, without attaching to them the emotional resonance that others may feel. Like my daughter's friends, they're doing clever things with words while keeping an ironic distance from them. And like so many parents who get cute with their commands to their kiddos, they're shocked and a little angry that anybody could interpret their words literally.

And that brings us to a dilemma. Are we responsible for the way other people take our words? If we think our non-harmful intent is clear, is it our fault if others take offense? It seems unrealistic to require that. Yet if you're the person hearing words that hurt, "I didn't mean it that way" is about the lamest phrase in the English language. It's like a drive-by shooting: The gunman may not have borne you any grudge, but you're still dead.

That's why I try to get my son to stop talking mean. And it's why I urge my daughter to let her friends know she doesn't get it. Perhaps we are not truly responsible for the feelings of people on whom our words have had an effect we didn't intend. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't care. When unexpected harm is pointed out, we can express sympathy for that individual's pain, instead of blaming the victim.

We can also acknowledge that good intent does not always produce good effect. That should not be a radical idea for anyone who's ever pitched a baseball through a window. Or written something on an e-mail list that reverberates in angry misunderstandings. Or seen lines that moviemakers may have meant one way used in entirely another way by people whose intent is less nuanced.

I spend a lot of time in the gray area between what people mean and how people take it. I wander there with my daughter, who's as likely to imagine a slight when none exists as to overlook an insult disguised as a kindness. I grope through with my son, for whom concepts like "intent" and "effect" and even "meaning" are unbearably abstract.

It's a pretty confusing place, made all the more so by those who try to pretend that it doesn't exist.

Read more: Special Needs News | Teach Your Child Figures of Speech | "Tropic Thunder" and the R-Word