I spend a lot of time thinking about generation gaps--that’s what being a teacher is all about, really--and many of the most prominent generation gaps begin intentionally. Like slang. One generation invents new slang to differentiate themselves from the generation before. Slang, however, is one of the most elusive, most slippery subjects to pinpoint any semblance of origin or reason. The formation of it is generally referred to as a phenomenon.
But things are different today. Historically, they say that slang exists in spoken form for years before it is written and researched. Then years after that, Webster’s might acknowledge it. But today, spoken form and written form are so closely wound together by the internet. There barely is “word of mouth” anymore. This really changes the patterns of the so-called phenomenon of slang emergence. It enters the mainstream lexicon that much easier, and spreads exponentially faster.
I attempted some research on slang origins. It was very difficult. Slang itself is easily identifiable, and California natives such as myself have the honor and the shame of knowing that many originated from here. Like. Hella. Dude. etc. Actually, in my research I learned that Californians are responsible for using “barbeque” as a verb, as in, Let’s barbeque this weekend. Apparently, everywhere else barbeque is only used as a noun to refer to a dish. Who knew.
Anyway, California is a historically rich place for slang--the musical, the convenient, the cringeworthy.
Oh, the cringeworthy. Cringeworthy itself has become cringeworthy because it has fallen victim to slang. If you haven’t yet heard it, beware. It’s awful. It’s been shortened to two options: cringe and cringey, as in, that was such a cringey video, or, did you see his tweet? So cringe.
What’s interesting is that both of these abhorrent shortenings of cringeworthy operate as adjectives. Cringe the noun, meaning wince, has been adopted into slang under a different part of speech. Basically, the -worthy has been sliced off. Cringe follows the pattern of many slang words in that it existed and was reappropriated in its shorthand form.
Cringey on the other hand is a new guise, though it follows another common pattern of slang. Often, when creating an adjective from a noun, you simply change it to end in a y. Think groove to groovy. Many adjectives end in y, so cringey seems to be the sonically or rhythmically based version.
We end up with two adjectives, which are different words, though they mean the same thing, and neither are correct. And they sound horrible. Great.
Then, on further thought, once again I see the genius, though trust me, I resist. Cringe and cringey are mimetic. Their sound quality matches the meaning. The word itself evokes what it describes. Say cringe, and you want to cringe. There’s two theories on this. Aristotle said Art imitates Life. Art--the slang--imitates Life--wanting to cringe. Oscar Wilde argued the opposite: Life imitates Art. Wanting to cringe is imitating the art (or artlessness) of the word. The chicken or the egg.
All I know is that I can’t possibly be the only one that cringes whenever it comes flying out of our adolescent friends’ mouths. Now, the real question is, do we as adults start using it just so our children will stop?
Signing off, Schoolyard Eagle Eye