Reclaiming the real meaning of Mongol
OPINION: I had never heard of Dr Libby Weaver until a contact at the United Nations sent me a link to her apology for her misuse of the term ‘‘mongolism’’ in her book What Am I Supposed to Eat?. The article was in Mongolian. Libby Weaver was probably unaware that her error had travelled the globe and reached Mongolia itself.
People tagged me online and tweeted me links to her article. As a member of the international Mongolian community, I have campaigned against the misuse of the word ‘‘Mongol’’ internationally via many different channels including the United Nations and the BBC. I was surprised that even in 2017 this seemingly popular author had no idea about the background or history of the word ‘‘mongolism’’.
It is not sufficient to describe the word as offensive – although it certainly is when used in reference to those with Down syndrome.
People need to understand the complexities and sensitivities surrounding the use of words based on the term ‘‘Mongol’’.
Past events have made this issue very close to my heart. In 2010 my three-month-old son Billy died of complications relating to Down syndrome. The two meanings of Mongol collided for me then, causing pain, grief and anger. After his death, I wrote my memoir entitled Mongol with the aim of educating people through my story and that of Billy. Billy was a Mongol not because he had Down syndrome but because he was my son. Coming from the country of Mongolia, I am a Mongol. I grew up singing the songs, reading the books and writing stories of the Mongol culture, told through the Mongol language. This is the perfect use of the word ‘‘Mongol’’ – and we refuse to have its meaning in this context described as ‘‘derogatory’’.
Use of the term ‘‘mongolism’’ in medical circles arose in the 1860s. While working at the Royal Earlswood Asylum in England, John Langdon Down began categorising patients known then as ‘‘idiots’’, noting that members of one group had a similar appearance. He proposed the term ‘‘Mongolian idiot’’, suggesting that this condition was in some way related to similar appearance. It is notable that even then some of his contemporaries raised concerns regarding the underlying raciallybased theories that were found in Langdon Down’s paper Observations on an Ethnic Classification of Idiots.
A hundred years later, in 1961, a group of international scientists wrote to The Lancet requesting that the term be changed to ‘‘Down’s syndrome’’. Following this, in 1965, the Mongolian delegation to the World Health Organisation (WHO) requested that the term ‘‘Mongol’’ be dropped from official usage. In response, the WHO renamed the condition ‘‘Down’s Disease’’ in the International Classification of Diseases, Revision 8 (1965).
It is now over 50 years since we reclaimed the word ‘‘Mongol’’. So please, when using the word that means so much to the millions of people of this national and ethnic identity – use it in its original and authentic meaning without shame, embarrassment or apology.
It is not sufficient to describe the word as offensive – although it certainly is when used in reference to those with Down syndrome. Uuganaa Ramsay, above
❚ Uuganaa Ramsay is an awardwinning author, campaigner and advocate. Born in Mongolia and now living in Britain, she started writing and campaigning in 2010 after the death of her son Billy who had Down syndrome. Uuganaa won the Scottish Asian Women’s Award For Achievement Against All Odds in 2014. Her memoir Mongol won the Janetta Bowie Chalice NonFiction Book Award from the Scottish Association of Writers and following Mongol‘s publication, BBC Radio 4 and BBC World Service produced a documentary The Meaning of Mongol.