Can we talk about the word Caucasian and why it’s everywhere right now?

Is it because the socials’ algorithms and filters are pushing people to use workarounds for ‘white’?

Is it because too few people are aware of the word’s origins or why it’s not a neutral alternative?

And if we’re going to avoid it, what might we use instead?

• What is inclusive language?

• Why does inclusive language matter?

• How can I tell whether my language is inclusive?

• Where might I think about using more inclusive language?

• When will I see a return on my investment in inclusive language?

When we first learn that words can do harm, we might freeze. We don’t want to hurt someone, so we don’t speak at all.

We let fear take the wheel and it steers us away from brave conversations.

If you and I instead choose to use words we hope will have inclusive effect, we’re making a bold choice to do better—knowing that we’ll sometimes slip up…

As we target more diverse user communities, we’re learning how to do words differently to meet those users’ needs.

Doing words differently is at the heart of inclusively designed and equitably delivered systems and services.

And names—part of how we express our identities—are among the most powerful words of all.

If you’re writing for or talking to a diverse audience, some people will understand the difference between neurodiversity and neurodivergence, and others won’t.

Some will care about the difference and others won’t.

But, for some—perhaps only a few—of us, the ‘wrong’ word in the ‘wrong’ place can be a barrier to our positive engagement.

‘Readability scores suck.’

‘People who use them are doing the wrong thing.’

Okay—I hear that—but here’s the thing: if someone has started using readability scores, that means they’ve opened a door.

If someone’s using readability scores, they’re showing me they’re already trying to do words differently. To do better.