Language is deeply personal. It reflects our values, identities, and professional contributions. Losing the words that have shaped our work can feel like erasure—like being forced to abandon principles we hold dear.

Yet, language evolves. It always has. We have witnessed this in every sphere of life. Once, it was acceptable for me to label my patient as “CPMR” (cerebral palsy with mental retardation). Just typing that phrase now makes me cringe. Today, we use person-first language, recognizing the dignity of individuals with intellectual or developmental disabilities.

As a Black woman, I have seen this shift in my own identity. We have been Negroes, Afro-Americans, African-Americans, and now—once again—Black. We have always been Black. In the 1970s, we were told to say it loud and proud, yet even today, some hesitate to use the term.

But something feels different about this current evolution of language. This shift is not happening organically, on our own terms. It is being forced—politically, legislatively, and strategically. I will admit that I have gone through a grieving process because of it. Kübler-Ross’s stages of grief remind me that loss, whether of a loved one or the language that defines the essence of one’s body of work, can evoke denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and […]