Jeff & Me - Neither of us like getting much sun.
Before my brother Jeff died by suicide, I never thought about the language used to talk about suicide. Immediately following his death and for a long time after, I was so shocked that the terms used to describe how he died mattered little. But as time passes, and the shock subsides, I’ve discovered that I bristle each time I hear the expression “committed” suicide. Historically, in the United States and beyond, the act of suicide was deemed a crime. Until as recently as 1963, six states still considered attempted suicide a criminal act. This is so insanely absurd to me that I’m not going to expend any more energy on the history of the topic but if you’re interested, here’s a link.
Thankfully laws have changed, but our language has not. And the residue of shame associated with the committal of a genuine crime, remains attached to suicide. My brother did NOT commit a crime. He resorted to suicide, which he perceived, in his unwell mind, to be the only possible solution to his tremendous suffering. If I was telling you about a friend or loved one who actually did commit a crime, chances are that I’d feel at least a little embarrassment or shame on behalf of that person. But I don’t feel even the tiniest bit of shame about how Jeff died. Of course, I wish with every fiber of my being that we had been able to successfully help Jeff and that he was alive today. But shame, nope, I don’t feel that about my brother. I focus on how proud I am of who he was in his life – passionate, thoughtful beyond words, brilliant, determined, and braver than most people I know, for enduring his pain as long as he did. Yes, Jeff Freeman was a brave, brave man. As is any person who grapples with deep emotional distress day after day, year after year.
So to say that someone “committed” suicide feels offensive to me and I’m not easily offended. The offense is in the inaccuracy. With that said, I don’t judge people for using this expression – until August 17, 2007, I did the same. But now I don’t. And I humbly ask that you consider the same. When you have occasion to talk about suicide, please try to refer to someone dying by suicide.
By shifting our language around suicide, we have the power to reduce some of the massive shame carried by survivors of suicide. If you feel scared or helpless about what to say to someone you know who’s lost someone to suicide, take comfort in knowing that, by changing your language about suicide, you’re offering a countercultural act of kindness. It might seem small but the interpersonal and political impact is nothing but huge.
I always thought of the term “commit suicide” more in terms of it being a commitment to the act/decision itself and not as in a criminal reference. But it is something to think about. Words are powerful tools and can be used to build or to demolish. I appreciate your commitment to opening eyes and minds to this subject and am behind you 100%. I wish you all the best in everything you do in regards to this. Onward you go girl!
I hope it wasn’t anything I said during dinner that exacerbated any of the insomnia, but if I did, then I’m glad you were able to turn the musings of the brain into such a well written and educational blog piece. I appreciate being given suggestions for what to say. (As you know I like to give them too!)
Thank you for educating us.
A little bit of Jeff’s smirk is surrounding all who read this Kyle. Well done.
Kyle–this is so well-written. It never even occurred to me, and I am interested in language. Thank you–you are such an inspiring person!
This is very well written and part of the movement that walking in the Overnight, or the community walks, bring about. Change, awareness and hopefully a culture where making off hand remarks about suicide go away. No other explanation needed I’m sure. I too lost a brother to suicide in 1993, when he was almost 22 and I was 26. a lot has changed since then, but those of us who speak out about it are what will make changes to the world. Thank you for this post.
Dear Stampylisa,
Thank you for your comments about my blog post. I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry that you lost your brother to suicide. He was so young and so were you. I certainly feel a special kinship to other sibling survivors of suicide and I just wanted you to know that I’m so sorry that your brother died. Sending you peace, Kyle
Kyle,
You are brave to bring this to others’ attention. You are taking an unfortunate event and creating positives from it.
Regarding the illegality of suicide, I did not know that. I am able to adjust my language accordingly.
God be with all the Freemans.
I lost my ex-husband to despair, and the sadness never disappears, or the suspicion that we might have done something to prevent it. My thinking brain says no, the collected pain had mounted for five decades and he had to find release. I just imagine what it must have been to be trapped in such anguish that ending his life became his only option. Thank you again, Kyle for your devotion to Jeff’s memory and for your commitment to useful action for all who feel trapped and all who love them.
Thank you Kyle for educating us about the history and the residual feelings that you, and others, feel when you hear hurtful language that surrounds your lose. I will add this to words that I teach students – I’ve had great opportunities to talk with students about hurtful language and I will gladly change my language and help you educate others about the meaning behind “committing suicide.”
Kyle, you are so right. I lost my younger brother to suicide five years ago almost to the day, and am still struck almost daily by the insensitivity of the discourse surrounding suicide. You do well to bring this to people’s attention. We are not as enlightened as we would like to think. Thanks for this.
Beautifully written and thank you so much. My husband’s sister took her life and a few years later while we were still trying to come to terms with such a terrible loss, my father also made the same decision and it rocked our world. We’re still trying to find our way back and every day is a little better but talking about it and advocating for compassion and understanding – and extending it to our language around suicide – is a powerful step toward reducing the stigma.