Vizzy D Darlings, This week we're jumping into language and I'm inviting you to embrace this prompt in two ways: 1. Reflect on your own relationship with language in your corner of death and grief care. What's changed and evolved in you and your work? 2. How might you share this as advocacy? On socials, in a blog post, in an interview, in a conversation with someone. How can you more concisely weave and speak the evolution of death care language into your work and world? 🐦⬛ There's so much within language that's nuanced to who we are, where we work and what we do. A funeral director in a regional town carries different words than a chaplain in a city hospital, than a doula sitting with someone dying at home. None of us are working from the same script, and I don't think we should be. And yet, reflecting on the language we uphold and perpetuate in this work is relevant no matter where we live and what we do. It's culturally nuanced and our responses will all be different. It's something we should all keep tending to. For example, a lot of the western Anglo-centric grief language encourages us to "ask their name", or to "speak their name" to honour that person's loss and keep their memory alive. Some of my ‘best performing’ social posts are about exactly this. And yet, when I support First Nations families here in Australia, the cultural protocol is the opposite. In some communities you DON'T speak their name for the first year, to ensure their spirit can be free in the Dreamtime and not unsettled during a time when it needs to move on undisturbed. When supporting Sorry Business (the Indigenous name for death care and funeral rites), I always ask permission to speak their name or ask how best to refer to the person who has died. There will be nuance with this in all countries and communities. 🐦⬛ Here's some more examples from me if helpful. I haven't quite worked out how I want to share this as advocacy, but feel free to borrow or apply anything that resonates for you.