Language is a paradox of power: the same words that can give a voice to the voiceless can also be used to silence, degrade, and humiliate others.
The recent Machong Chismisan podcast controversy reminds us that freedom of expression, when stripped of respect and responsibility, can become a weapon of humiliation rather than empowerment.
What makes this even more disturbing is that such language is not confined to podcasts or social media. It has long been part of everyday conversation on the streets, in offices, and even in formal gatherings. Over time, using disabilities as insults or associating people with disabilities with incompetence has become so normalized that many no longer recognize the harm their words cause.
We casually use disability-related terms to describe inefficiency, ridicule mistakes, or express dissatisfaction, often disguising discrimination as humor. What we dismiss as harmless jokes can reinforce the very prejudices that continue to marginalize people with disabilities.
The problem is not actually the word itself but how we use the word and the meaning we attach to it.
When we repeatedly associate disabilities with incompetence, we reinforce the misconception that people with disabilities are less capable or less deserving of respect. It is this careless use of language that turns ordinary conversations into opportunities for discrimination.
As a mother of JJ, my son who has Down syndrome, I know too well how deeply words can hurt. When he was younger, I often found myself getting angry whenever people made fun of him. There were countless times when we experienced disrespect, not only through the hurtful words people said but also through the judgmental stares they gave us.
But as he grew older, I gradually learned to move beyond my anger and channel it into something more meaningful. Instead of allowing other people’s judgments to define what my son could or could not do, I made a conscious effort to give him opportunities to participate in activities just like any other child. I wanted him to experience the world, develop his abilities, and feel that he belonged.
More importantly, I wanted people to see JJ beyond his diagnosis. Every opportunity for him to participate, learn, and interact with others became my own way of educating society that people with disabilities are not defined by their limitations. They, too, have talents, abilities, and something valuable to contribute.
The United Nations Disability-Inclusive Language Guidelines emphasize the person-first terminology, such as saying “person with a disability” rather than “disabled person.” The person-first focus puts the individual first to emphasize dignity rather than reducing someone to a medical label or diagnosis.
Some would probably say that we should simply let this issue pass or wait until the controversy dies down. But silence does not make discrimination disappear. When we choose to ignore language that ridicules people with disabilities, we allow the same prejudices to persist, making it easier for others to repeat them without realizing the harm they cause.
As a mother, I cannot simply turn a deaf ear to words that diminish the dignity of people like my son. What may be a passing joke to someone can be a painful reminder to another that society still sees their differences as something to laugh about.
This is why advocacy must begin with education, particularly in how we use language. Calling out offensive remarks is necessary, but it should not end there. We must help people understand why certain expressions are hurtful, challenge the misconceptions behind them, and encourage conversations grounded in empathy and respect. If language has the power to humiliate, it also has the power to educate, empower, and change the way society sees people with disabilities.
After all, the true measure of freedom of expression is not merely our ability to say what we want, but our willingness to take responsibility for what our words can do to others.