Arts imitates the effects of gun violence.
As of ___, guns have killed ___ people. Mass shootings are horrifying. And they used to elicit traumatic feelings for us. Now, we hear of yet another mass shooting on the radio and it barely registers. We see it on the news and we change the channel.
What happened?
Sara Hutto uses the f-word to mimic the disturbing acceptance we've cultivated surrounding this violence. Bad words are processed through the amygdala; they are processed through our primitive brains. They are tied to emotion. Hutto's use of the f-word is gratuitous. At first it's shocking, uncomfortable. To some readers, it's absurdity is almost comedic. But as the text unfurls, we notice this word less and less. It becomes invisible. We stop caring about this vulgar thing being forced upon us.
Think about this as you read the text, below. In addition, ask yourself: Why does this piece exist? Is it effective in its attempt to persuade you of its message? Why or why not? The final line is jarring. Why? How does the final line contribute to the piece as a whole?
Having a fucking bake sale
Building a fucking shed in your own backyard
Pumping fucking gas
Getting a fucking vasectomy
Owning a fucking car
Driving someone else’s fucking car
Riding in a fucking car
Disposing of fucking batteries
Cutting fucking hair for a living
Having a controlled bonfire on your own fucking property
Owning a fucking dog
Walking a fucking dog
Selling a fucking mattress
Watching a fucking DVD
Holding any sort of public fucking performance
Importing foreign fucking cheese
Changing your last fucking name to your spouse’s
Buying fucking fireworks
Riding a fucking bicycle
Having a fucking swimming pool
Xeroxing and distributing copyrighted fucking material
Transporting a bottle of opened fucking wine home from a restaurant
Using a fucking skateboard
Buying unpasteurized fucking milk
Recycling