I still remember the first time the concept of saying the politically correct thing crossed my path. “What does your oldest son do?” I asked the lady in a crisp black and white uniform, sharp white with black apron tied in a bow in the back, the kind that maids, I mean domestic technicians, wear in some upper crust households. Without missing a beat she answered beaming with pride, “He’s a sanitation engineer.” That must be interesting, I thought for just a moment, then thought again and asked her exactly what a sanitation engineer did. “Oh, he picks up the garbage,” she nodded.

In fact, the proud mom did take a liberty or two as in fact her son’s profession could have been more accurately described as a sanitation technician. But what the heck? The upshot of the brief, pleasant exchange was that I got my initiation into the world of politically correct. Since then, there have been untold numbers of encounters with this grammatical phenomenon of calling things by a moniker designed to lend dignity to an otherwise not necessarily dignified nor fully appreciated job, role, community or state of being.

Some of the more popular politically correct things we say have become so much a part of our ordinary jargon we don’t give their use a thought. Instinctively, we understand that politically correct is correct. We accept that it means we are sensitive to its antithesis. We wince if we walk into an old building where the subtle shadow outline of the word Colored remains on a wall decades after the sign that left the mark came down. People of colour are no longer coloured people. They are African-American or Black with a capital B or Brown or one of many other definitions but not coloured (though it seems to me that both Black and Brown without capital letters are colours, not that I would ever violate the dignity of someone by using the C word.)

Most of the time, doing or saying the politically correct thing comes naturally. It’s a salute to changing trends and the lifestyle changes we take for granted.

Take the word gay, for instance. I remember when gay meant happy, filled with joy and laughter. That was before it came to mean an individual who preferred persons of the same sex. Once the word gay came into play, it replaced the ‘q’ word that preceded it and no one looked back. The ‘q’ word and ‘fag’ were relegated to the trash bag of politically incorrect and archaic terms. Gay is not only politically correct, it erases any shame or embarrassment and plunks its perception into the mainstream because it is subconsciously associated with happiness. And that’s what political correctness does. It lends dignity and respect, avoiding the apocalyptic tragedy of marginalising those who by use of a less dignified expression might endure self-doubt or earn less respect.

As politically correct expressions gain popularity, they do not just replace less politically correct words or phrases, they displace former meanings of the same expression. Remember when the words ‘coming out’ referred to leaving one place to go to another? “Are you coming out tonight?” could have been as innocent an inquiry as asking, ‘Hey, you going to the game later?” Today, we understand instantly that ‘coming out’ carries a far different meaning and, in all likelihood, was preceded by serious or introspection.

Language, like life itself, is dynamic. The difference between language and life is that changes in language are slower. They follow changes in life and lifestyle, reflecting not directing those changes. They also linger longer so after life moves on, the language describing a certain age or attitude hangs around until something like political correctness comes along to knock it off its presumptuous, precarious pedestal.

Most of the time, we don’t question political correctness. But lately we have had reason to ask, has political correctness gone too far? We can no longer address a letter or email to Mr, Mrs. or Ms or Dear Sir or Madam without adding a ‘they’ in case ‘they’ are in transition.

We can no longer call the individual living on the street homeless because now they are the unhomed. Personally, I take issue with that because it implies that those who are roofless were always and forever that way, unhomed. If you want to change the name of homeless for the sake of political correctness, how about dehomed, meaning that they once had a home and somehow no longer do as the prefix ‘de’ implies removal of something. At least give them that much pride.

More importantly, let’s focus not on what we call those without a place to call home but on what we can do to provide a safe haven for them. And then call them whatever you want – or just snap a photo of them smiling, nodding gently and holding your hand.