I like the word ‘like,’ and I’m not ashamed to say it

It’s not only functional, but fun to say, adding levity and joy to the art of conversation

I’d like to talk about the word “like.” It’s a multipurpose term that has become a staple in conversational English, to the dismay of many who believe it simply to be a filler word that degrades our linguistic standards.

I, for one, have decided to stop pretending that I don’t, like, absolutely love using the word “like” frequently in my everyday life, and I’m prepared to defend this beloved Valley girl-ism with all the firepower I can muster.

We all know the technical meanings of “like” — it’s a word we use to highlight similarities between things, and to express our preferences, for instance. I don’t think I need to elaborate.

However, “like” has colloquial usages that have become functionally ingrained in conversational English. For instance, it’s what’s known as a discourse marker, a word that is used to manage the flow of discourse but is syntactically independent from the meaning of a sentence. This sentence is, like, an example.

It’s also used as a hedge, which is a term that indicates a rough value, rather than a statement of exactitude. Hedging is a means of making our statements more palatable. An example would be: I drank, like, a bottle of wine while writing this column.

These non-traditional uses of “like” in North American English are associated with the Valley girl culture of 1980s and ’90s California. Deborah Schiffrin coined the term “discourse marker” in the 1980s, when the language of Valley girls, or “Valleyspeak,” was popular.

In addition to having social functionality, the word “like” as a remnant of Valley girl culture speaks to me personally. I was born in the ’80s, and went through most of my childhood in the ’90s. My best friend and I watched “Clueless” on repeat, until the VHS tape’s sound and picture were fuzzy and distorted.

I’ve had friends say to me at various times through my adulthood that they were trying to void the word “like” from their vocabularies. I doubt any of them succeeded. I felt a great deal of “like” shame for a while, amid all these highminded linguists who believed they were better off without the razzle-dazzle of filler words. I even tried, briefly, to censor my own usage.

Frequent off-label utterance of the word “like” is heavily associated with stupidity, but I can assure you that I’m not stupid. Even the characters in “Clueless” (bless their hearts), while a little out to lunch, aren’t actually stupid. The dialogue, though heavily doused in likes, totallys, and whatevers, is otherwise pretty sophisticated.

Much like mine. There may be generational differences, but in my experience, people of all intelligence brackets say “like” colloquially.

“Like” has a certain je ne sais quoi, an eye-catching sparkle in all its facets, and despite being historically linked to a stereotypically undereducated population, is not only functional but fun to say. It accents the dramatic pause, adds comic value, and brings levity and joy to the art of conversation. It’s a staple in sarcastic dialogue.

The word “like” is a cultural diamond in the rough. Quote me, I don’t mind. I will no longer pretend I don’t love “like.” It’s a part of me, along with the fictional spirit of Cher Horowitz.