A Fucking Love Letter

I was four when I first said “Fuck.”

I was just learning to read and eager to show off my skills. So when my friend’s mom drove by the local Steel Mill, its corrugated tin walls covered in graffiti, I carefully spelled out the biggest word I could see. 

“F… U… C… K… Fuck!”

The station wagon nearly swerved into the ditch as my friend’s mom, Wanda, gasped, “LaDonna! No! That is NOT appropriate language. I never want to hear that nasty word coming from your mouth ever again!”

I grew up in a fundamentalist religious community in rural Illinois, where curse words were always frowned upon as the devil’s work. So was rock music. And movies. And girls who wore pants.

But the need for extra emphasis is universal, so everyone I knew used substitute swears.

 “Oh, fudge!” was popular in my Christian high school.

 My grandpa would yell, “Dagnabbit!” when he hit his thumb with a hammer.

 And I, for reasons I refuse to remember, was particularly fond of saying, “Heavenly blue!”

 When I grew up, I got out, and became well acquainted with a long list of taboo words, of which “fuck” has always been my favorite.

 Fuck sounds good in your mouth. The “ck” is so deeply satisfying. It communicates every single thing I need it to: joy, surprise, disdain, anger, shock, frustration, dismay, refusal, exhaustion, bitterness, disbelief, excitement, assent, invitation.

I’m a writer, with an impressive vocabulary tucked beneath my tongue. Some people think this means I should know better than to drop an F bomb.

So from time to time some well-meaning Wanda will take it upon herself to tell me that she disapproves of my filthy mouth:

“Not very professional.”

 “Truly unattractive language.”

“I’m disappointed in you.”

“Makes you seem uneducated.”

But nothing can deter me from my four-letter love. Fuck is truly the most versatile, the most inclusive, the most equalizing word in the world. 

Feel its power. Fuckin’ A.



-LaDonna Witmer
@wordsbyladonna

 

 

 

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