Language Matters Archives - Mental Health Commission of Canada

“Unhoused” and “Homeless” – What’s the Difference?

Ian Peralta — Tue, 25 Mar 2025 12:28:17 +0000

By Jessica Ward-King

This article is part of the Catalyst series called Language Matters on terminology and usage.

Like the problem of homelessness itself, the issue of language around homelessness is complex and multifaceted, with researchers, experts, and those with lived experience asking if there is a different way of talking and thinking about housing that would drive the conversation rather than mire it in stigma, prejudice, and discrimination. Like those experiencing housing insecurity – something that can be viewed on a spectrum of risk in terms of access to and maintaining shelter – there is no one right answer.

The term homelessness can broadly encompass “the situation of an individual, family, or community without stable, safe, permanent, appropriate housing, or the immediate prospect means and ability of acquiring it,” according to The Canadian Observatory on Homelessness.

This can refer to those who are living in emergency shelters, couch surfing, living in encampments, those who are living in environments not intended for human habitation (such as cars, garages, or makeshift shelters), and those at risk of moving to these living arrangements. The definition encompasses not only income and housing, but also access to employment, health care, clean water and sanitation, schools, and childcare.

Word choice

The words we use do not, themselves, change the experience or impact of homelessness – but they can shape the conversation. For example, terms such as “houseless” or “unhoused” are emerging to place the emphasis away from the individual, and toward the bigger problem – a lack of affordable housing, something that is of great concern to 45 percent of people in Canada, as of late 2024 reporting from the Canadian Social Survey.

Al Wiebe knows these concerns. He is a housing advocate in Winnipeg who has experienced homelessness and describes himself as having no fixed address. He uses the word “homeless” to describe his experiences because, “a house is just a shelter, a roof over your head,” he says, noting that some people living in encampments, for example, may feel they have a “home” even though they are without a traditional “house.”

Further, Wiebe notes that more than 31 percent of homeless people come from Indigenous communities, with many people from within those communities noting that “unhoused” or “houseless” are more appropriate terms for those who may consider Earth their home.

Person-centred language

This term aligns with person-first language – something that focuses on the individual. For example, in the case of mental health conditions, you could describe a person as living with schizophrenia as opposed to “having” or “being” an illness, disability, or condition. In the case of housing – a lack of affordable options is the problem – not the person.

Pearl Eliadis talks about this nuance in “Turning Off the Tap: Preventing Homelessness for Victims of Violence,” her chapter in Ending Homelessness in Canada: The Case for Homelessness Prevention (2024), edited by James Hughes.

Eliadis is an associate professor at McGill University and a lawyer with more than a decade of experience, including work with the United Nations and the Canadian Human Rights Commission. She was working with Melpa Kamateros on a research project in 2021 as part of the Quebec Homelessness Prevention Policy Collaborative. At the outset, they were having a conversation on language.

Kamateros – co-founder and executive director of Montreal’s Shield of Athena Family Services – offering emergency shelter for those experiencing intimate partner violence – says care is needed in the use of the term.

“These women are not homeless, at least not as long as they are with our shelter!” Kamateros explains to Eliadis, who writes: “There is a feminist argument at play here: framing the experience of a woman fleeing violence as ‘homelessness’ places the focus of the policy problem on her; it reframes who she is, even though her circumstances were the product of someone else’s violence. The woman may be temporarily unhoused, but that does not make her ‘homeless’.”

Evolving ideas

Some sources, such as Regeneration Outreach in Brampton, Ontario use “homeless” to refer to someone with no fixed address and “houseless” to refer to someone who does not have a traditional home, but does have a place to stay, such as an RV or other non-permanent structure. Blanchet House in Portland, Oregon uses both “houseless” and “unhoused” interchangeably over the more stigmatized term, “homeless.”

However, as advocates are noting, changing the terms may eclipse the bigger issues.

“Even the benefit of switching from a word loaded with negative connotations to one that is denotationally the same thing but without those connotations only has a negligible benefit that lasts a few years, until stigma grows on the new word too,” wrote Frances Koziar, a young, disabled, retiree, and a social justice activist living in Kingston, Ontario in an Ottawa Citizen op-ed.

While language continues to evolve, it is only one part of a much larger issue. The debate over terminology should not be used as a form of virtue signaling without meaningful efforts to tackle the deeper challenges of housing affordability, mental health, and substance use.

Further reading: A Roof of One’s Own: The lack of housing options brings its own kind of homesick feeling.

Resource: How We Talk About Mental Health: It Matters!

Jessica Ward-King researches and writes as The StigmaCrusher. She feels most at home when learning about and advocating for mental health.

The post “Unhoused” and “Homeless” – What’s the Difference? appeared first on Mental Health Commission of Canada.

You are not alone – let’s talk about suicidal ideation

Ian Peralta — Thu, 14 Sep 2023 19:45:47 +0000

By Jessica Ward-King

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I’m going to go to a bit of a dark place, and I would invite you to follow me there because it is important. I have had (and the way bipolar disorder goes so cyclically, likely will have again) suicidal ideation, and I would like to tell you what it is like. I’ve never told anyone this before, but I would like to tell you this now because of suicide awareness day, which is commemorated each September 10 in honour of all those who have died by suicide and those living with suicide attempts or suicidal ideation and their loved ones.

Suicidal ideation, or thoughts of suicide, are undoubtedly different for everyone, so I can only tell you about my experience. If my experience can make even one person feel seen or understood, it will be worth it.

Most often, my thoughts of suicide are passive, as in “I would be better off dead” or “It would be better if I didn’t wake up.” These are the thoughts I will be describing in this blog post. Certainly, when I am in more distress, these thoughts can become more active, culminating, for me, in plans to die by suicide, but these are more rare (and these, particularly when accompanied by plans, are where interventions need to be made by loved ones and mental health professionals).

For me, my thoughts of suicide are a study in opposites. They are equal parts horrifying, foreign thoughts, and soothing, familiar thoughts. Let me explain what I mean. Thoughts that I would be better off dead come unbidden into my mind and are not welcome there. I am deeply ashamed of them. I know they are “deviant” (at least, I choose to label them as such), and they seem to come at me from some outside force, and I don’t want them to. But at the same time, they are soothing and familiar – they offer a way out of a situation that I have thought through and thought through and for the life of me cannot find a way out of (my depression). They offer a seductively easy way out of my situation at that, almost like a mother soothing me with a “there, there” and a pat on the back, promising me that it will all be alright – there is a solution (and it is easy).

Suicidal ideation changes volume, too. Sometimes, it is a whisper in the back of my mind, barely there but just audible. Sometimes, it is insistent, like a child asking for screen time tugging at my sleeve. Sometimes, it feels like it is literally screaming to be heard, and nothing else can drown it out and I am just left to listen to it suggest, cajole, demand, insist and request that its ideas be heeded.

Does having these thoughts mean that I am planning to die by suicide? No. As dark and insistent as they are, these thoughts are just thoughts. Just like the thoughts in traffic that you would like to ram that car in front of you or any of the other fantasies that pass through your mind throughout your day, suicidal ideations are just that – fantasies. Fantasies that make life more livable. It is because they are so stigmatized that they are so frightening and so difficult to talk about. Now, we have to be careful to walk the line between reducing the stigma around suicide and making it a genuine option, but I believe that that line is thick enough that there is room to reduce the stigma and give relief to people like me, who struggle with guilt and shame over their suicidal thoughts to the point that they won’t seek help.

So, with that, what makes up the resistance, you might ask? What’s the good news story here? I am lucky. I have a partner I can talk to about these scary thoughts. She doesn’t buckle and collapse. She listens calmly, stroking my hand all the while. Then she asks if I have any plans. She asks what we should do – should we call my psychiatrist (whom I am also fortunate to be able to disclose suicidal ideation to without being summarily put in the hospital) or take me to the hospital, or are we safe just to wait and see, and then she lays with me while I cry. I am lucky. Not everyone has a partner or loved one like this because not everyone understands that just having these thoughts does not mean that I am imminently in danger or, worse, “crazy.” Most people, when they hear of suicidal thoughts, get quite scared themselves, and they lose themselves in that fear. Please, don’t. I assure you, your loved one who is telling you this is more afraid than you are. Keep your cool. Better yet, before you are ever in this situation, get some basic training that will help you cope, like Mental Health First Aid (MHFA) or even more specialized suicide assistance training. Courses like this will help you to be able to assess risk and figure out what to do next, whether that is simply being with your loved one or whether that is making a safety plan and getting help.

Suicide is not something that affects other people. In this country, 12 people die by suicide every day – and that is just the deaths that are verified as suicide. Due to stigma, many deaths are attributed to other causes rather than bringing shame to a family or community. It is the second leading cause of death among youth and young adults (15-34 years), and 12% of Canadians admit to having had thoughts of suicide in their lifetimes. We all love someone who is thinking about or will think about dying by suicide. I hope this little piece of vulnerability will help at least one of them.

Author: Jessica Ward-King

BSc, PhD, aka the StigmaCrusher, is a mental health advocate and keynote speaker with a rare blend of academic expertise and lived experience. Equipped with a doctorate in experimental psychology and firsthand knowledge of bipolar disorder, she’s both heavily educated and, as she likes to say, heavily medicated. Crazy smart, she’s been crushing mental health stigma since 2010.

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Why We Use “Substance Use Health”

Brett Stoner — Wed, 29 Mar 2023 19:50:44 +0000

By Amber St. Louis

Putting substance use on a spectrum creates a space for more open conversations about safer, healthier, more manageable consumption.

Part of the Mental Health Commission of Canada’s work involves education on the distinction between mental health and mental illness. Mental health — an aspect of overall health — exists on a spectrum we all share. One end of the spectrum reflects optimal mental health, while the other shows where mental illness or mental health problems occur. A spectrum model is also helpful when we talk about substance use.

What it means
Toward one end of the substance use health spectrum, a person might abstain entirely or engage in sporadic use without any adverse consequences. At the other end are substance use disorders with far-reaching effects on overall health and well-being. Depending on the circumstances and a multitude of factors, anyone can move along the spectrum at any time.

Why it matters
Due in part to a long history of criminalization and secrecy around drugs and alcohol, a negative undertone persists. This way of thinking may lead people to see all substance use as problematic. On the other hand, putting substance use on a sliding scale helps create a space for more open conversations about safer, healthier, more manageable consumption — whatever that looks like for each individual.

Reducing stigma around substance use is also an important part of fostering recovery. The less negatively we judge substance use, the more comfortable a person might be about disclosing a concern about their own or someone else’s situation. For someone struggling with substance use, understanding that they can achieve safer, healthier consumption without (or before) complete abstention can help instil hope when they need it most.

How you can use it
Adopting the term substance use health can challenge personal biases and binary thinking. Substance use isn’t black and white. It’s not about being addicted or abstaining entirely. There’s a wide, grey area of movement, nuance, and individual circumstances in between. As with all mental health, the way we think and talk about substance use matters. The better we understand the substance use health spectrum, the better we can support people through every stage of recovery.

Author: Amber St. Louis

Amber St. Louis

The post Why We Use “Substance Use Health” appeared first on Mental Health Commission of Canada.

From condemnation to compassion

Brett Stoner — Tue, 14 Mar 2023 18:47:14 +0000

By Amber St. Louis

The shift away from saying “committing suicide” goes beyond semantics.

This article is part of the Catalyst series called Language Matters.

Outdated language has a way of sneaking up on you. Sometimes it’s egregious — like a racial slur, for instance. Other times, it’s more subtle — like an expression you suddenly realize you haven’t heard for a while. For many people, the language around suicide is likely to fall into the second category.

Until a few years ago, it was common to hear that someone “committed” suicide after taking their life. The expression was pervasive across all forms of media and in everyday conversation. Then, the paradigm started to shift. More and more people, from health-care workers to journalists to people with lived and living experience of mental illness, adopted “died by suicide” as the better alternative.

What’s the difference?
The third edition of the Mindset media guide for reporting on mental health offers one of the best rationales behind the change: “Don’t say a person ‘committed suicide.’ This outdated expression, linking suicide with illegality or moral failing, can make it harder for others to seek help, or for families to recover.”

The term “commit” is most often associated with some sort of crime. For example, we still regularly hear that someone “committed murder” following a homicide, or “committed fraud” after a scam. These expressions imply a disregard for the rules of law and moral or ethical standards while casting judgment on the actions taken.

When talking about a suicide, such implications have no place. Suicide is preventable with the right interventions. But if admitting thoughts of suicide feels like confessing a crime, it’s not hard to imagine why someone might hesitate to reach out for support. When you factor in the feelings of low self-worth and hopelessness that often accompany suicidal ideation, the stakes involved in the language we choose are raised even higher.

Then there are those left behind. Following a suicide, it’s estimated that 135 people are affected by the loss, with 7 to 10 being significantly impacted. So outdated language can further complicate the grieving process by adding undue stigma.

By contrast, saying or writing that someone “died by suicide” helps reframe the death as a loss rather than a crime. It’s an opportunity to replace condemnation with compassion, and swap stigma for support.

For someone struggling — with their own thoughts of suicide or the death of a loved one — that can mean the difference between staying silent and speaking up.

New hope on the horizon
By the end of 2023, Canada is set to launch a three-digit suicide prevention number. When someone dials or texts 988 from anywhere in Canada, they’ll be connected to a free mental health crisis or suicide prevention service. Experts say this nationwide number can not only reduce the stigma associated with reaching out for help, it will also save people the time it would take to remember or search for a crisis number. When it comes to preventing suicide, every second counts.

Did you know?

It may not be obvious that someone is thinking about suicide. Learning the warning signs can be helpful for knowing how and when to offer appropriate support.
Asking someone if they are contemplating suicide will not make it more likely. In fact, showing concern can be a helpful way to establish social connection and promote hope in the moment.
Removing or limiting access to things like firearms and prescription medications is often enough to prevent suicide. This kind of means restriction is effective in preventing suicide, as many people won’t seek out alternatives.

Resources
If you or someone you know is in immediate danger, call 911.

Talk Suicide Canada: 1-833-456-4566 (or text 45645 from 4 p.m. to midnight ET)
For Quebec residents: 1-866-APPELLE (277-3553) (or text 535353, 24-7)
Kids Help Phone: 1-800-668-6868 or text CONNECT to 686868
Hope for Wellness Helpline for Indigenous peoples: 1-855-242-3310 (24-7)
Trans Lifeline: 1-877-330-6366
Canadian Association for Suicide Prevention

Author: Amber St. Louis is a writer at the Mental Health Commission of Canada.

Amber St. Louis

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Shifting the Narrative

Brett Stoner — Tue, 07 Feb 2023 20:06:41 +0000

By Amber St. Louis

Valuing lived and living experience

This article is part of The Catalyst series called Language Matters.

While many social movements use the saying “nothing about us without us,” it also applies to the fields of mental health and substance use health. To make meaningful improvements in policies, support services, and systems of care, the voices of lived and living experience must be part of the conversation. This way, assumptions can be replaced with real experiences, and solutions can be challenged by those who stand to gain or lose the most.

The Mental Health Commission of Canada (MHCC) places great emphasis on using “lived and living experience” because it emphasizes individuals over the stigmatizing effect of labels that demean and prevent people from seeking treatment. So, instead of referring to someone as a “former addict,” it’s more respectful and more in line with the process of recovery to say, “a person who has had lived experience of a substance use disorder.”

In the mental health and substance use health context, the term “lived experience” refers to someone who has previously had a mental health problem or illness or used one or more substances. Similarly, “living experience” refers either to a current mental health problem or illness or an ongoing use of one or more substances.

Sometimes, lived and living experience includes family members and caregivers. While a close relative may not have first-hand experience of a mental illness or substance use disorder, they are often intimately familiar with challenges such as accessing services for their loved ones.

As a concept, consider finding new ways to incorporate lived and living experience into your work or conversations about mental health and substance use health. In this respect, the MHCC is fortunate to have Hallway Group members’ valuable insights into lived and living experience to help guide our work.

Author: Amber St. Louis

Amber St. Louis

The post Shifting the Narrative appeared first on Mental Health Commission of Canada.

Black Like Whom?

Brett Stoner — Tue, 08 Nov 2022 19:12:35 +0000

A broader term captures the rich diversity within communities. Why we use ‘ACB’ over ‘Black’

This article is part of the Catalyst series called Language Matters.

In early 2021, the Mental Health Commission of Canada adjusted its language guidelines and started using the term African, Caribbean, and Black (ACB) when referring to the diaspora who were often grouped under the heading, “Black.” Prior to the change, Black was broadly applied to anyone with dark skin, regardless of their cultural identity or heritage. Imagine the differences of experience and perceptions between a multigenerational Black Nova Scotian and a newcomer from Gambia.

While my family hails from Barbados, I was born in London (England) and grew up in Montreal. I self-identify as a Black woman, a Canadian, and a Caribbean, and I’m not conflicted by those intersecting titles. On countless occasions, people have attempted to “other” me through comments or questions, now identified as microaggressions. “You speak so well,” one of them said, surprised as if, despite my going to the same schools and receiving the same education since age three, my Blackness would subvert those teachings. My personal favourite is, “Where are you really from?” — because Montreal and London didn’t fit the expected answer.

My Caribbean background has often felt like a cozy place of retreat in the face of this insistence that I am not Canadian. I imagine that for folks born and raised in Canada with parents and grandparents who had the same experience, these questions would be more than frustrating. If you can spend your whole life in a place, be taught at the same schools, eat the same food, and still be considered an outsider, it is like remaining stranded on the ancestral slave ship, belonging neither to the new world nor the old.

Our identities are wrapped up in myriad little and big things that give us definition and grounding. What we are called matters. Those names do more than identify our skin colour. They reflect our experiences and knowledge. I have no idea what it would be like to arrive as an adult in a new country and have to fit into a different, often unwelcoming culture. Nor do I want to maneuver through the expectations of those who assume that this is my reality. Whether here by choice or by birth, we are Canadian. Like my fellow citizens of Italian, German, or other descent, I also proudly enjoy the rich offerings of my Caribbean history.

Setting the tone
I don’t blame people for feeling confused or even frustrated with the evolving use of terms. They are legion and often come with an array of confusing and (at times) contradictory explanations. I spent many years explaining to friends and neighbours that I was not “coloured” but “Black.” Then, some well-meaning collective determined that “people of colour” was acceptable. Years later, after moving through the terms “visible minority” and “racialized communities,” Black Lives Matter blew into the media spotlight with “Black, Indigenous, and People of Colour” (BIPOC). At that time, it had become more important to acknowledge that a disproportionate number of ACB and Indigenous people were being incarcerated and attacked by police or denied access to health care (the list goes on), that their realities were different from others. The debate over the merits of capitalizing the “b” in “Black” is forged in the same social furnace. The use of uppercase is an attempt to recognize the shared history of violence, oppression, creativity, and triumph. Though it may seem like a simple grammatical issue, it covers a host of previously ignored or denied experiences.

These conversations reflect a complex and ever-changing social dynamic. It isn’t as simple as saying, opinions vary, or minds have changed. At their heart they reflect emerging knowledge, a growing awareness. More voices are being heard, and that results in more measures being taken, more information being gathered. Consider how hard it is to talk about the disproportionate police-on-ACB violence when authorities refuse to capture skin colour in their reports. It took a collective of intrepid reporters working nationally to collect, collate, and track how many ACB people had been shot by police before those numbers forced authorities to acknowledge that reality. Armed with the facts — the evidence of racism’s impact — people could suddenly be heard when they said, Don’t call me that. Don’t lump me into a broad group. My experiences are different.

Names matter. Using ACB rather than Black (if preferred) is not a new politically correct affectation. It’s a respectful reflection of the very real and very different experiences of people who may share nothing more than similar skin tones.

Author: Debra Yearwood is a communications specialist who works and lives in Ottawa.

Debra Yearwood

A communications pro with more than 20 years of executive experience in the health sector, expertly navigating everything from social marketing to crisis comms. When she’s not advising on the boards of Health Partners or Top Sixty Over Sixty, she’s busy finishing her book on thriving in later life (because why stop now?). Certified Health Executive by day, diversity advocate and magazine contributor by night—Debra’s the one you call when things need fixing or explaining.

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How’s the weather?

Brett Stoner — Tue, 25 Oct 2022 19:02:34 +0000

With stigmatizing language, things can get pretty cloudy

This article is part of the Catalyst series called Language Matters.

“I hate this weather, it’s so bipolar. One minute it’s sunny and the next it’s raining. I never know how to dress in the morning.” I roll my eyes at my friend, and she apologizes. “I’m sorry. I forgot.” She’s not the first to use my diagnosis to describe something negative, and she won’t be the last, but it stings every time.

Adopting clinical terminology to emphasize our experiences happens all the time. How often have you heard someone say they’re OCD when they really mean they’re organized or respond to a new story with “That’s so crazy! That’s insane!”? We’ve all heard such things (or even said them ourselves). But just because something is familiar doesn’t make it OK. Using that kind of hyperbole reduces mental illness while doing a disservice to the people who live with those concerns. It also affects how we think about mental health conditions.

It’s called associative activation, and it happens when we unconsciously attach an emotion to an idea. Usually, the process is so quick that we’re not even aware we’re making a link. Yet our brains are hard at work producing a response to the words we use and hear. When my friend is talking about the weather, she’s also associating a negative emotion with bipolar disorder. It sounds innocent enough, but it has a lasting effect. And it’s one of the ways stigmatizing language is able to flourish.

So what’s the big deal? No need to be such a stickler. They’re just words.

Actually, those words do have a big impact on people. Think of a time when someone said something hurtful to you. How did it made you feel? For those living with mental health concerns, it can be disappointing to learn that someone you thought of as an ally has unconsciously held negative feelings about your condition. It can also be frustrating to hear your diagnosis being reduced for the sake of a quip or to exaggerate a point. Of course, anyone within earshot of that conversation about the weather is likewise forming their own negative views about bipolar disorder. What might their reaction be if they or someone they love is diagnosed a mental health condition?

Language is constantly evolving as we understand more about mental health and strive to do better. While it can be difficult to keep track of shifting ideas around acceptable language, it’s certainly possible. A good place to start is to learn about stigmatizing language and some of the available alternatives.

Another thing to remember is to try not to get defensive if someone asks you to adjust your language. It probably just means they care enough to want to keep you from making the same mistake again. Many of us instinctively resist the idea of removing language from our vocabulary, but it does get easier with practice. And since choosing other words is one of the simplest ways that we can all help reduce mental health stigma, it’s worth the effort.

My friend and I put our umbrellas away. The sun was now peeking out from behind the clouds and warming our faces. “What I meant to say is that the weather is unpredictable these days. I should have worded it differently. I spoke without thinking. I’ll do better next time.” And for a long time now, that’s a promise she has kept.

Find other articles in the series: Person-first language.

Author: Mental Health Commission of Canada

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Power to the People

Brett Stoner — Mon, 19 Sep 2022 17:40:37 +0000

Using person-first language to make an important distinction

This article is part of the Catalyst series called Language Matters.

When talking about mental health, the language we use falls into two broad categories: person-first or identity-first. At the Mental Health Commission of Canada (MHCC), we typically use and recommend person-first language, but that choice may not apply in all situations.

What’s the difference?
Identity-first language leads with the illness or condition as opposed to the person experiencing it. For example: “schizophrenic person” uses schizophrenia as a descriptor before referencing the individual. Conversely, person-first language focuses on the individual while de-emphasizing the illness or condition. So, in this instance, if using person-first language, you could say, “an individual who lives with schizophrenia.”

The language used to talk about mental health or substance use can play an important role in reducing — or reinforcing — stigma. By focusing on the individual, person-first language underscores the fact that a diagnosis is only one component of someone’s overall being. It also shows respect for an individual as a person rather than as “abnormal,” “dysfunctional,” or “disabled.” For that reason, it is considered less stigmatizing and is often preferred in the mental health and substance use context.

That said, it’s important to bear in mind that this preference is not universal. As one friend explained, “I don’t live with bipolar disorder. It’s not my roommate.” For her, using identity-first language — “I’m bipolar” — better represents how deeply intertwined the condition is with every aspect of her life, while person-first language has a minimizing effect.

For others, identity-first language is rooted in the relationship between their personal and cultural identities and their condition. For example, deafness, which has a rich culture unique to those who share the experience, often emphasizes abilities over disabilities. In that case, “deaf person” might be preferred over “person who lives with deafness.”

How to choose?
In an American Psychological Association survey of 3,000 individuals living with a range of conditions, 70 per cent chose “person with a disability” when asked about the language that best describes them. “Disabled person” was chosen by just eight per cent.

When writing, the MHCC recommends person-first language as a first choice, unless you know that an individual or group describes themselves otherwise. When talking to a person with lived and living experience, listen for or ask them about the language they use. It’s not about getting it “right” on the first try. It’s about listening, learning, and championing the use of respectful, non-stigmatizing language — whichever form that takes.

Author: Amber St. Louis

Amber St. Louis

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Banish Stigmatizing Language to Make Room for Understanding

Brett Stoner — Sun, 01 Sep 2019 19:26:11 +0000

By Louise Bradley

Language matters

From MHCC president and CEO Louise Bradley

Just ask someone who has been the victim of a racial slur. Ask someone whose child has been harassed or bullied. Ask someone who has been a target of verbal abuse because of their sexual orientation.

As a society, we’ve gotten past the outmoded idea that “sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.” It’s patently untrue. How we name things reflects our willingness, as a community, not only to “tolerate” otherness, but to strive to understand and accept those we think of as different.

Speaking with compassion is the first step in the long journey to equality. Often, it’s the subtle shifts in our ways of speaking that signal more seismic shifts toward inclusivity. Yet, when it comes to mental health problems and illnesses, we are behind the times. This is especially true in cases of serious or severe mental illness, which can manifest in behaviours that make us feel uncomfortable — or even, in the rarest and most extreme examples, appalled.

The distinction that’s missing when stigmatizing language is directed at people living with mental illness is the one between the individual and the illness. It goes missing when we hurl pejorative terms. But when we do so, we also strip away the humanity that binds communities together. We create a chasm between “us” and “them,” an illusory sense of security built on nothing more than false ideas.

We can’t inoculate ourselves from mental illness by casting stones from glass houses. What can help is drawing on the humility of “But for the grace of God go I.” Such compassion doesn’t require belief in a higher power, and we can only call our society civilized by embracing empathy for its most vulnerable and marginalized members.

My intention isn’t to cast aspersions. I don’t want to name-call or single out any person for this kind of behaviour — the fact is, it’s pervasive. So it’s up to all of us to look squarely in the mirror and confront our own biases.

When we denigrate those who are ill and incapable of defending themselves, we expose our own worst traits: fear, weakness, ignorance. Using more careful language, on the other hand, language that makes space for compassion, is to honour our shared experience.

To quote George Orwell, “If thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought.” By banishing stigmatizing language, we’re not only elevating public discourse, we’re creating a more just, inclusive, and hopeful society.

Author: Louise Bradley

Louise Bradley

The post Banish Stigmatizing Language to Make Room for Understanding appeared first on Mental Health Commission of Canada.

Language Matters Archives - Mental Health Commission of Canada

“Unhoused” and “Homeless” – What’s the Difference?

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You are not alone – let’s talk about suicidal ideation

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A broader term captures the rich diversity within communities. Why we use ‘ACB’ over ‘Black’

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With stigmatizing language, things can get pretty cloudy

Power to the People

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