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From 'bro culture' to 'malaise': violent language changes with culture

The cultural models, to which the youngest refer, make explicit a precise reality in which domination and power define gender roles

23 November 2024

5' min read

It is called 'bro culture' and it is the one that Donald Trump has winked at to win the American elections and win the white male vote: to legitimise, starting with language, the violence and overpowering of men over women in the name of an exclusively male 'brotherhood' that responds to precise codes. The 'bros' (an abbreviation of the English word 'brothers') are young white men closely linked to each other by the desire to party, they dress alike and behave in a sexist manner because the 'idea of virility' to which they refer is based on a lifestyle based on privilege - including gender - and total self-reference. "It's not easy to be a woman in bro culture," denounce some girls on TikTok: with 21 million users in Italy in 2024 (Audiweb data), the social media platform has a very young audience (60% of users are in the 16 to 24 age bracket) and is a telltale sign of how the language and culture of the new generations is moving.

From the use of the word 'malaise' - which romanticises aggressive, misogynistic and possessive men seen as icons of 'authentic masculinity' - to 'bro' culture, language and youth subcultures are a breach through which to look at the real world. "Language is not separate from life. But it is an indicator of what our world is. For a long time, for example, we were not able to see violence because there were no words to name it,' explains Fabrizia Giuliani, lecturer in philosophy of language and gender studies at La Sapienza University in Rome. 'The oppression of women also took place through language, with the lack of linguistic recognition of the violence they suffered.

Violence among young people, naming it to recognise it

The word 'malaise', legitimised by both girls and boys, and the cultural models to which the youngest refer, make explicit a precise reality in which oppression and power define gender roles. If 'malaise' is a form of virility considered attractive and - as reported by Libreriamo's survey - six out of ten trap music songs (the most listened to among teenagers) contain violent expressions against women, language confirms itself to be the mirror of what is happening in the world: in the world of young people, as emerges from the second edition of the TEEN Survey carried out by Fondazione Libellula, the level of understanding of gender violence among teenagers aged 14 to 19 remains low. One third of the sample, for example, does not consider forms of control and restriction of the freedom of others to be forms of abuse. Other important evidence comes from the survey conducted by Ipsos and Save The Children, "Are girls OK?": 30% of teenagers consider jealousy a sign of love. 21% consider it normal to share social and mobile phone passwords. Giving up privacy becomes an acceptable proof of love and 65% of respondents confirm that they have experienced at least one controlling behaviour from their partner.

To reverse the course, it is necessary to recognise gender-based violence starting with words: 'Language is crucial in combating violence because it makes phenomena visible. This is not a philosophical statement, without words we do not see things. If we don't say feminicide, we can't focus on the specific phenomenon of women killed by men,' says Giuliani, for whom language moves with cultural change: 'Only since women have won their freedom have they fought for violence to be recognised as such. Nevertheless, violence is still very much considered a private matter. Women still find it very difficult to report it and we have a very high rate of underreporting'.

The alibi of 'political correctness': "can't we say anything any more?"

The numbers tell a part of reality that does not end with surveys. Despite the fact that violence is still a structural phenomenon and rooted in youth culture, girls are much more aware: 'The new generations, especially girls, today have a greater awareness of themselves,' Giuliani emphasises. 'Think of the reaction they had in schools and universities after Giulia Cecchettin's feminicide: they reiterated the inaccessibility of their own bodies, and clamoured to redistribute responsibility by educating boys. This represents great steps forward. But awareness is not yet widespread'.

While girls are firm in their condemnation of violence, calling for male responsibility even in language - 'The rapist is not sick, he is the healthy child of patriarchy' we read on the placards they display in marches, in front of universities, at moments of demonstration - the reference to 'political correctness' in public debate attempts to empty its instances: increasingly negatively connoted, in fact, as the scholar expert on gender issues reports, 'Political correctness has signalled that certain behaviours, including linguistic ones, are no longer acceptable. However, to be effective and meaningful, it must go hand in hand with social processes: it is not enough to be scandalised by violent words in a song. Speakers must feel that not using violent words is not simply a prohibition imposed by political correctness but something that corresponds to their lives'. Culture needs to change so that language also changes, because 'language moves with life'.

Redefining words to counter violence

In some cases words of violence used 'against' can become words of mutual support: the writer Tea Hacic-Vlahovic, for example, is also the author of the podcast 'Radical Sluts'. A name by which the girls in her community - and many other young people - call themselves and which the writer explains as follows: 'A Radical Slut is usually a woman, but can be any person: queer, a gay man, even a nun, a man who works in a bank, perhaps, a person, however, who feels and above all who wants personal freedom, but also wants it for others. It is a semantic re-appropriation that overturns the meanings of words used for violent purposes in order not to be victims again. This is what also happened with the re-appropriation of the term 'queer', initially used in a derogatory way to refer to the homosexual 'community' as 'strange, bizarre, not regular'. Today, however, the word queer is used to refer to what does not fit into the canonical gender binarism, rejecting, in its customary use, its original meaning of a homophobic insult. "The re-appropriation of words in some contexts and in some situations is a good strategy," says Giuliani. "It cannot be a general recommendation, but I understand that this gesture of re-appropriation can certainly also help to bring to the general attention how serious the insults are, from the very moment I re-appropriate them. To make the need for re-appropriation obsolete, it is necessary to work on education and not leave anyone behind. Especially the younger generation. 'The use of violent language among young people also stems from the fear and discomfort of feeling excluded,' adds the lecturer, who concludes: 'While it is necessary to maintain an attitude of firm condemnation of any violent phenomenon, it is also necessary to work firmly on education. Even in the family: we must listen to the needs of the youngest, so that they are no longer marginalised. Violence is born from exclusion'.