On using big and long words

Growing up in Nigeria, words - especially big words - were commonplace in my circle. I roamed with writers, poets, and academics. I dined with lawmakers, and contributed to platforms where important policy recommendations were made. I was barely nineteen.

I wasn't trying to be a 'verbal contortionist'. At the same time, I wasn't trying to use words that felt stale or inadequate. I wanted words that showed depth. Using just any word wasn't enough. We had fun knowing all the words we could use, and interchanging them as we pleased. You needed to hear when we debated. The more uncommon words were used, the more interesting the points sounded.

It was fun. Until I noticed a weird pattern.

What started as pure curiosity about words and their meanings soon (and sadly) became one of the hallmarks of my identity. It became a way to speak if I wanted to be taken seriously - or so was the story I told myself. And because I was the youngest at most of those platforms, I doubled down on using those words - as long as they helped me share my thoughts well. And of course, as long as they were understood by those I spoke with.

Not until I saw myself doing this over and again, and thought: no, that shouldn't define me. It's fine to know the meanings, even use them sometimes wherever appropriate, but I should always aim to communicate better. And to make things simple.

Simple, not simpler.

I've come to understand that simple is elegant. Simple is impressive.

Simple words are often better. The shorter the sentences, the better. I had to relearn this. I once wrote about this.

The most important thing is not how big or simple a word is - since we know that time and culture define what words are big or simple. Rather, it is in communicating well, and using words that connect with others.

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PS: Our conversation led to this, Tyler. Thank you.