Yesterday, I got reprimanded for saying so.
Usually I make a point of saying that Joel Chandler Harris was a bastard for several reasons:
- Because it’s true.
- Because his mother was shunned because of it.
- Because the word conveys the severity of their situation.
- Because it’s usually funny when I say it.
It wasn’t as funny yesterday when a visitor suggested that I shouldn’t say that word. And then when I tried to explain myself, things only got more and more awkward.
The visitor explained that she herself came from a single-parent home, and she didn’t think it was appropriate for me to use the word “bastard” so off-handedly. I was very polite, once again stated my case, and finally retreated by saying that I wasn’t really a tour guide, merely the director–“what do I know?!”
But at this point it was clear that I was talking waaaay too much and was engaged in something like a verbal tar baby.
Finally I simply had to concede–yes, some people might be offended, and yes because of that, perhaps I should consider not saying the word bastard.
What I wanted to do was stamp my foot and squeal in the girliest way possible: “But it’s my museum! Oooh!”