Being a lover of language, I couldn’t help but notice how the pandemic has influenced our language use over the last year. Certain old or rarely-used words have become commonplace; some words or phrases have changed meaning; and of course, neologisms - new words and expressions – have been added to our spoken language.
A year ago, “do you have your mask?” was something you only asked a friend if you were going to Afrikaburn or robbing a convenience store. (In my experience, anyway.) “Can you hear me now?” was uttered only when you were talking on your phone from a restaurant or farm, or doing the odd Skype call with a faraway client or ageing family member. Now it’s all. the. time. “Can you hear me? Can you hear me NOW?”
The word quarantine rolls off the tongue with ease these days. Before COVID, it was something imposed on one of the Hemsworth brothers in a highly unbelievable sci fi movie. Lockdown was something that happened when the inmates at Pollsmoor caused kak. And flattening the curve meant cutting out carbs and getting back to hot yoga.
Social distancing wasn’t even a thing a year ago. I remember the first time I saw the phrase. It was on my Toastmasters Whatsapp group early in March last year. One of the members said she wasn’t going to attend the meeting, as her family had decided to do social distancing. I wondered if one of them had Tourettes or if they were perhaps trying some sort of weird hermit therapy to connect as a family. But no, I looked it up and it was a thing and now, less than a year later, it’s a phrase we hear and see every single day.
A year ago, the only jobs that were WFH (work-from-home) were the kind that paid 50c for every filled and licked envelope. These days, a huge number of positions are advertised as WFH or remote. Nobody knew what PPE stood for a year ago, and the only people who spoke about the front lines were Fox News reporters talking about some unfathomable war involving American troops.
And who was talking about the New World Order or 5G back in the early days of 2020? Only people with tinfoil hats and a year’s supply of koolaid in their bunker, that’s who. Now, it’s your cousin, your cute neighbour and that lovely lady you connected with at the silent retreat.
Before the pandemic, only margarine was a super spreader. Now, the phrase refers to the irresponsible and ignorant people who interact with large groups while infected with the virus. Coincidentally, the most famous of these is not unlike margarine, in both his colouring and nutritional value.
There are also a huge number of made-up words that have become a normal part of our language in just 10 months. Covidiot is one of my favourites – a word to describe someone who denies the virus exists or doesn’t practise safety precautions.
Coronacoaster describes the emotional rollercoaster brought on by the sudden lockdown; the ups and downs that come from spending more time than is natural with your immediate family; and the stress and anxiety caused by not only the possible lack of income, but also the weird, anti-social vibe of it all. Being an introvert, I haven’t been as affected by lockdown and social distancing as many others, but even I sometimes go from feeling manic joy one minute to sprouting surprise tears the next, for no apparent reason. (And sometimes because I only have 2 beers left and no idea when Uncle Cyril will let me buy more).
Other new made-up words include maskne, a pimple outbreak caused by facial coverings, and zoombombing, which is when you bomb or intrude on someone’s video conference. This actually happens - bored trolls find meeting links on Twitter and other platforms and then join the meeting and share their filthy, filthy screens. Of course, zoombombing can also occur – more innocently and minus the porn - when a waiter or toddler (or your aggressively needy cat) inadvertently enters your camera’s view while you’re having a pow wow with your super awesome quaranteam.
A quarantini is a cocktail enjoyed in isolation in the comfort of one’s own home, and Blursday describes the feeling when you wake up and have no idea what day it is because you’ve been in your tracksuit for 3 weeks and each day just bleeds into the next.
Some of us have a real problem with doomscrolling, which is when you skim-read anxiety-inducing, pandemic-related articles, updates or comments on social media via your phone. And yet others suffer from hamsterkauf (hamster purchase), a German word that beautifully depicts ‘panic buying’, something we’ve all done recently at the local Tops and half of America and Australia did with toilet paper, for some as-yet-unknown reason.
As a testament to how we crave “our own” language, we have even come up with our own words for the virus. Some call it COVID-19. Many others call it coronavirus or simply corona. Teenagers and hipsters call it ‘rona or the rona, hippy surfers in Australia call it ronies, and in London’s East End, it’s known as Miley Cyrus – cockney rhyming slang for the virus.
Who knows what new words 2021 one will bring? I’m hoping for positive ones like frelief – the amazing feeling you get when you’re able to see and hug your friends for as long as you like without any fear; coronatude, the effects of the virus on how much gratitude we now feel for what we have; and meterism, the now-and-forever natural giving of space to the person in front of you in a queue.
I’m looking forward to seeing what happens and how our language continues to evolve. Until then, I’m going to hamsterkauf some Lindt, whip up a pineapple quarantini and do some doomscrolling.
I’ll worry about flattening my curve on Blursday.