Using the right words is not especially easy. I should know; I help people do that for a living. I also try to make words do things to say stuff and express my feelings.
Content warning: I allude to slurs in this piece, citing a couple of them, and also discuss ableism.
Sometimes those feelings are angry, contemptuous, dismissive, or that sort of thing. It's useful to have ways to belittle or express aggression towards people - say, for political reasons, or to express helplessness, fear; there's a constellation of reasons to embrace both negative emotions and negative communication.
When that happens, it's easy to reach for words like "idiot," "moron," "stupid," and other things. But the origins of these words and their deployment in modern speech is often against people with disabilities - or those perceived as inferior. In the same way as calling someone "blind" to express that they're actually being stubborn, making a bad decision, or deliberately ignoring something is actually inaccurate, it also demeans people with visual impairments.
There's been a popular push to stop using slurs - first and most easily, of course, is the n word (with or without a hard r on the end; if you don't know which word "the n word" is, you're probably beyond my help). The word "retard" and "faggot" are also falling out of use, and have been for the better part of a decade, for good reason. The latter and the n word are used rarely and in acts of reclamation by particular communities - but that's a different matter, and not one that requires policing - least of all, by a white woman, even a queer one.
The type of language I'm talking about encompasses more than the most infamous slurs, though - it includes more ordinary words, which can easily pass unnoticed for those unaffected by particular traumas.
Why bother?
This probably sounds like needless nitpicking - I'll be honest, I've had that exact thought in the past - but the way we use words and language shapes the way we think. More educated people than myself have talked about this at length.
Although I have sometimes grumbled about this very topic, it ultimately aligns with my principles to avoid ableism and try to reshape my language. One can have a bit of emotional attachment to words - the sharp slap and sting of particular insults and curse words is very pleasing and useful. But what are humans if not innovators? It's one of our primary advantages as a species.
Sometimes it's also useful to reach backwards and time and see if there's anything to offer - generations of teachers have made use of this particular list to engage students' attention, and frankly, it works pretty darn well. Some of these do definitely fall in the "derogatory language" pile, insulting perceived intelligence and whatnot, but a lot of them are pretty darn fun, satisfying, and useful.
Who cares about this?
A lot of people, actually. I'm far from the first person to talk about it, but I thought bringing my own perspective to things - and being honest about my own limitations in adopting better language - might benefit some people. I've peppered references and links throughout my essay, as usual, but a quick search of ableist language on Google will reveal millions of hits and articles. A lot of people care about this.
The fact of the matter is, existing with a marginalization or multiple marginalizations makes the world feel like a hurricane of gravel. One gets inured to the storm, but that doesn't mean one's tolerance for pain is endless or infinite. And if we can reduce that careless pain for others - and refine the precision of our own language, expressing more in the process - is there really a downside? Sure, there's some inconveniences, and it's not always comfortable to examine our own internalized prejudices, but the benefits ultimately outweigh the costs. Yes, it's more work. Yes, it's uncomfortable. But not watching friends' shoulders tense up after a casually-deployed slur is rewarding.
Is this censorship?
In a word, no, but let me explain why. First of all, the process of censorship refers to government or organizationally-sanctioned or rejected terminology. In addition to the fact that different groups will reject and accept particular terminology - for instance, conservative groups tend to avoid queer-affirming language when they discuss things like anti-trans legislation - the intent here is to provide tools for anger that do not cause additional harm.
There is a strong difference between internally rejecting the use of something and being forced to do so by an external body or power. Choosing the words we use is very different from being told we can't use particular words.
Interestingly, none of the sources or sites or people I've talked to about this issue were against swearing; neither did they express a refusal to tolerate emotional anger or angry expressions.
To provide yet another comparison, it's a bit like using a focused attack rather than an area-of-effect attack in Dungeons and Dragons - to quote a common internet witticism, "an arrow may have your name on it, but a fireball is addressed 'to whom it may concern.'" Why use a fireball, and risk the chance of friendly fire damage, when we can precisely target our opponent or the source of our frustrations?
I certainly can't think of a good reason to casually inflict harm on people I care about, and if I can insult someone just a little better, it's going to be more satisfying.