Use of language

Language is a powerful tool in shaping identity, relationships, and perceptions. For children and young people, language use is highly dynamic – from the creative shorthand of textspeak and emojis to the evolving slang of peer groups. Understanding how children and young people communicate is not just a linguistic exercise; it can provide insights into their social worlds and even warning signs of harmful contexts. 

Equally important is the language used by professionals (teachers, social workers, police, etc.) when speaking to and about children and young people. Seemingly simple choices in wording can carry the weight of labels and biases that influence how children and young people see themselves and how they are treated by society.

In this insight we will consider 

1. how children and young people use language (online, in texts, in peer culture) – including the roles of textspeak, emoji, and slang – and how this language may be interpreted in contexts like exploitation, gangs, or the “manosphere” subculture; and 
2. how professionals’ language (for example through labelling and implicit biases) impacts young people’s self-perception and opportunities, as well as how we as professionals see those children and young people.

Digital Communication: Textspeak, Emojis, and Online Habits

Today’s young people are often described as digital natives –  in 2020, around 90% of UK children had their own smartphone at age 12 (YouGov, 2020). Texting has become a primary mode of interaction, with surveys indicating adolescents send and receive an average of 67 text messages per day, making text-based messaging “the dominant mode of communication between adolescents” (Minch, Kerr and Moreno, 2025). With so much interaction happening via screens, young people have developed adaptive ways of conveying tone and emotion in writing. Textspeak (or “textese”) – the use of abbreviations, acronyms, and nonstandard spellings (e.g. lol, brb, wyd) – is common in casual messages. This saves time and keystrokes, but also represents a linguistic style tailored to fast-paced, informal communication. Research has generally found that frequent texting does not inherently degrade literacy skills (Zebroff, 2016). In fact, many adolescents demonstrate an ability to code-switch – using slang and abbreviations with peers, but switching to more formal language with teachers or for schoolwork (Lin, 2017) indicating a nuanced understanding of audience and context in their communication.

One feature of digital language is the heavy use of emojis and emoticons to convey emotion or subtext. Because texting lacks the nonverbal cues of face-to-face talk (no body language, facial expressions, tone of voice), adolescents compensate by inserting pictorial icons to add emotional tone (Minch, Kerr and Moreno, 2025) with their use more nuanced than that of adults. Emojis may not only be used for straightforward emotion (a 😢 to show sadness) but also for humour, sarcasm, or “absurd” phatic expressions that maintain social connection. The meaning can be highly context-dependent and generation-specific – what a teen finds funny or ironic in an emoji (e.g. using 💀 to signify “I’m dead [from laughing]”) might be lost on their parents. It is the tapestry of brevity (abbreviations), creativity (alternate spellings, memes), and visual cues (emoji/gifs) that together create meaning and tone.

Social media platforms also shape their language patterns. Teens today are avid users of visually oriented social apps; in the U.S., roughly 9 in 10 teens use YouTube, and large majorities are on TikTok, Snapchat, and Instagram (Anderson, Faverio and Gottfried, 2023). Communication on these platforms extends beyond plain text – adolescents employ captions, hashtags, video captions, and comments rife with inside jokes or references. The fast-paced, scrolling culture of apps like TikTok and Instagram favours concise, catchy language: trending slang, one-word reactions, or emojis are often used in comments instead of lengthy sentences. A common thread is that young people are highly adept at contextual communication – they learn the norms of the digital space they are in and adjust their language (often unconsciously) to fit. This digital literacy allows them to navigate online peer interactions smoothly, though it can also create a generational gap where adults struggle to keep up with the latest vernacular.

Peer Group Slang, Identity, and Belonging

Offline and online, adolescents notoriously generate their own slang – novel words or phrases (or novel uses of existing words) that carry special meaning in their culture. Slang among friends isn’t just playful colloquialism; it is deeply tied to peer group identity and belonging. Sociolinguists note that adolescence is the life stage in which language change is most rapid and visible, with teens acting as “the linguistic movers and shakers” of new trends (University of Minnesota, 2025). By inventing and sharing slang, young people solidify group bonds (“we speak the same code”) and differentiate themselves from others (especially from adults). Classic linguistic theory emphasises that teen language is a tool of social practice – adolescents use words to construct identity (who I am, which group I fit in) and to navigate social hierarchies (Eckert, 2003). Virtually all studies of their language underline identity as a key factor, explaining why speech patterns vary so much in this age group.

In practice, this means the latest catchphrases or exclamations you hear in your setting may be unintelligible to an uninitiated adult. Through specificity of the words they use, adolescents signal their membership in the community; as one commentator put it, when teens deploy slang, they’re effectively saying “I belong to this group” (Swensen, 2024). Mastery of in-group language gives a sense of belonging and solidarity. On the flip side, it can exclude those who aren’t up to date – including other children as well as adults. This constant evolution of vocabulary can sometimes make adults feel “old” or out of touch (University of Minnesota, 2025), but from the teen perspective that’s part of the point. The ability to speak in a way that perplexes authority figures can be empowering. It creates a space (in hallways, group chats, or online forums) where young people feel it’s their world with its own norms.

It’s important to note that this slang is not “just broken English” or improper language – it’s a legitimate form of expression that serves social functions. In fact, linguists often stress that what older generations call “slang” or “teen speak” is a reflection of healthy linguistic creativity. It allows young people to play with language, inventing terms or shifting meanings (for example, “lit” evolved to mean exciting or excellent, far from its literal meaning of “illuminated”). This creativity can enrich language over time; many terms first scoffed at as teen slang have entered mainstream usage in later years. Additionally, from a developmental standpoint, having a unique vocabulary contributes to a sense of autonomy – teens assert their independence from parents by not speaking exactly like them. As long as they can distinguish when different registers are appropriate (and most do), young people adopting a vibrant peer vernacular is a normal and even beneficial part of growing up. It supports the developmental needs of belonging and identity formation, as research in their development highlights. In essence, young people’s language is a feature of their development, not a bug.

Language in Contexts of Exploitation and Gangs

While much of young people’s language is harmless social play, certain communication patterns or slang can be associated with dangerous or exploitative situations. Both peer and adult perpetrators may use coded language to manipulate or conceal illicit activities involving young people. This is seen starkly in cases of gang involvement and child criminal exploitation, such as county lines drug networks. County lines gangs recruit children or teens to transport drugs from cities into rural areas, and they’ve developed a specialised slang around these activities. For example, gang members in these networks use phrases like “going country” or “going cunch” to mean traveling from the city to a rural location to deal drugs; they use “cuckooing” to refer to taking over a vulnerable person’s home to use as a drug stash house; and they call young drug couriers “drug mules,” often specifically referring to internal concealing of drugs as “plugging”, while young people moving illicit cash might be dubbed “money mules” or even “smurfers.” (Catch 22, 2021). An adolescent using such terms in conversation or text (e.g. bragging about “going cunch” or mentioning a “plug”) could be inadvertently revealing involvement in a gang-controlled enterprise. It’s a modern form of code-switching with high stakes: young people may use one vocabulary with criminal peers to fit in or hide activities, then revert to standard speech with family or teachers, making it challenging for outsiders to detect problems.

Predators also use language to groom and control. Groomers – whether for sexual exploitation or gang recruitment – often adopt the slang and style of young people to build trust, a tactic to appear relatable (“on the same wavelength”). They might pepper their messages with teen slang, emojis, or terms of endearment (like “fam”, “bro,” or romantic pet names) to lower a victim’s defences. Conversely, perpetrators may also introduce derogatory slang to diminish a victim’s self-worth or normalise abuse. In gang contexts, girls who are sexually exploited in “trap houses” (locations where drugs are sold) have been referred to with degrading slang like “gift girls” or “pick-up girls,” terminology that frames them as objects to be passed around (Children's Society, 2022). Repeating such terms can desensitise young people to the violence being done to them. For instance, the phrase “gift girl” dehumanises the victim as a mere commodity or “gift” that can be given or traded, masking the reality of sexual abuse. When this perpetrator-originated slang seeps into general use, it minimises the violence and reinforces an atmosphere in which exploitation is talked about casually. 

Crucially, whether a young person is involved in a gang or being exploited, how others describe their situation matters. If a teenager is described simply as “in a gang” or “involved in criminality,” it suggests voluntary wrongdoing and can carry a stigma of blame. In reality, many young people are coerced, groomed, or trapped into those situations. The Children’s Society emphasise using language that reflects this reality of exploitation rather than language that implies child culpability. For example, saying “they are involved in a gang” inherently frames the young person as a willing participant and even invokes racialised stereotypes of “what a gang member looks like,” which can further stigmatise non-white young people. They advise professionals to avoid such phrasing and instead say things like “They are being criminally exploited, likely by organised crime groups” or “They are being groomed by perpetrators”. This shifts the description from an active perpetrator label to a passive victim status – highlighting that the young person is not in control and not to blame.

Labelling Theory and the Power of Labels

Labelling Theory explains how the labels society places on individuals can shape their self-identity and behaviour. At its core, labelling theory argues that being labelled as “deviant” or “problematic” can become a self-fulfilling prophecy (Britannica, 2025). When authority figures or institutions tag someone with a negative label, that person may eventually internalise the label and act accordingly. In the classic formulation by Howard Becker and others, deviance is not just an inherent quality of an act, but something that arises from social reaction – once a young person is publicly called a “delinquent,” for example, they are often treated with suspicion or hostility, excluded from conventional groups, and pushed towards delinquent peers, thereby increasing the likelihood of further deviance. As one summary puts it, the stigma of being labelled separates the person from society, and “the result of this stigmatization is a self-fulfilling prophecy in which the offenders come to view themselves in the same way society does”. In other words, people often become what they are labelled.

As professionals we continuously make judgments (often unconsciously) about young people – who is bright, who is troublesome, who is “at risk.” Research in schools has shown that the labels teachers give to pupils can influence students’ identities, behaviour, and academic performance (Revise Sociology, 2024). For instance, if a student gets a reputation as a “troublemaker,” teachers might watch them more strictly and punish them more quickly, peers might avoid or mock them, and the student in turn may become disengaged or act out more – fulfilling the expectation set by the label. On the flip side, a student labelled as “gifted” or “high-achieving” may get more attention, encouragement, and opportunities, boosting their confidence and performance (another kind of self-fulfilling prophecy). Classic studies (like Rosenthal & Jacobson’s Pygmalion in the Classroom) demonstrated that teacher expectations alone can measurably impact student outcomes. When teachers were (falsely) told that certain randomly chosen children were poised to intellectually “bloom,” those children ended up making greater gains – apparently because teachers subconsciously gave them more positive attention and challenging work.

Labelling in professional contexts often happens in subtle ways through language. Although many labels are offhand, if consistently applied, they can narrow how each child is perceived (“lazy,” “troublemaker”), becoming the lens through which all their actions are interpreted. Students often become aware of these labels too, a pupil who overhears or senses that adults think he’s “not smart” might stop trying in class, believing any effort is futile. Another who knows she’s seen as “the naughty kid” might embrace that role among peers, since it’s the identity thrust upon her. In this way, labelling connects to self-concept: young people construct their identity partly based on feedback and descriptors from adults. Positive labels (e.g. “leader,” “creative”) can become self-esteem boosts and motivators, whereas negative labels (e.g. “lazy,” “violent”) can erode confidence or push a child onto a path of resistance and rebellion. Importantly, labelling theory also highlights bias in the assignment of labels – often labels are not purely based on a child’s actual behaviour, but on how that behaviour is perceived through a lens of preconceptions about race, class, gender, etc.(Revise Sociology, 2024).

Unconscious Bias and “Adultified” Language

Unconscious bias refers to the stereotypes or attitudes that affect our understanding and actions without us realising it - it can creep into language and decision-making, potentially with serious consequences. One well-documented phenomenon is adultification bias, where professionals perceive children of certain groups as older or less innocent than they truly are. For example, Black girls are often viewed as more mature, less child-like, and more responsible for their actions than white peers of the same age (Commission on Young Lives, 2022). This report noted Black pupils tend to be seen as “less innocent” and more akin to adults, leading to harsher punishments in school. In practical terms, if a 14-year-old is thought of (and spoken about) as if they were an “adult” threat, an adult might be quicker to use accusatory or severe language with them – calling them “aggressive,” “thug,” or telling them “you should know better” – whereas a younger-looking or more stereotypically “innocent” child might get gentle words or benefit of the doubt.

The impact can be that protective systems see the child not as a vulnerable young person in need of care, but as a potential perpetrator or threat from whom others need protection. Such a stance is often evident in the language of incident reports or staff discussions – for example, describing a 13-year-old girl in trouble as a “streetwise young woman” (implicitly adultifying her) instead of a “child” or framing a situation as “she was intimidating staff,” whereas for another child it might be “she was upset and causing a disturbance.” Words like “uncooperative,” “volatile,” “threatening,” get applied more readily to some groups than others. These biased labels feed back into the young person’s self-perception and treatment: the child may internalise a sense that authority figures see them as a lost cause or a criminal, which can erode trust and engagement with those adults or institutions. Additionally, other opportunities can be cut off – a student repeatedly described in records as “defiant” may be overlooked for leadership roles or positive programs; a teen labelled a “gang member” might be denied access to certain support services that exclude those seen as perpetrators.

Gender bias can affect language as well. For example, a study of school discipline might find that when girls misbehave, teachers often use words like “drama,” “emotional,” or “attitude,” whereas for boys, it might be “violent” or “aggressive.” This stems from stereotypes that expect girls to be docile (so a girl who pushes boundaries is sometimes branded with pejorative labels like “bossy” or “difficult,” which can hurt her confidence in leadership) and expect boys to be rowdy (leading to perhaps more tolerance of minor aggression but also quick escalation to calling them “dangerous” if it continues). Class and cultural biases can appear too – language used in one setting may be deemed “inappropriate language” or “slang” while elsewhere it could be seen as just normal teen talk. These implicit judgments influence how much leeway or empathy a child receives through the language framing their situation.

Microaggressions are another way bias manifests in language. These are the subtle, often unintentional comments that convey derogatory or stereotypical assumptions (e.g., constantly mispronouncing a student’s non-English name, or saying “you’re very articulate for someone from your background”). Over time, microaggressions can significantly impact a young person’s sense of self. They send the message that “people like you” are not expected to excel or belong. While microaggressions might not always be formally recorded in case notes or reports, they are part of the daily linguistic environment a young person’s experiences with adults.

Bias can also shape praise and encouragement language – studies have found that teachers sometimes give more substantive feedback to students they unconsciously favour, while giving perfunctory or critical feedback to those they don’t. For instance, a biased expectation that a certain student won’t do well might lead a teacher to not push them or to use diminished language like “At least you tried something” instead of “I see potential here, let’s develop it.” Such differences accumulate, affecting skill development and self-esteem. Stereotype threat research shows that when individuals are aware of a stereotype about their group’s performance (e.g. “people like you aren’t good at math”), it can depress their performance – essentially, negative words and expectations can become a psychological burden. Conversely, “stereotype lift” can occur when positive expectations are communicated.

Recognising and checking these biases is thus essential – ask yourself: Would I use this word to describe the same behaviour if this child were of a different race or background? If not, it’s time to adjust the language and address the bias behind it.

One approach is adopting “person-first” language and strengths-based framing. Person-first language means literally putting the person before any descriptor of a problem – e.g., saying “a child with behavioural needs” instead of “a troubled child” – to emphasise their humanity and avoid defining them by a deficit. Strengths-based language encourages highlighting positives or potentials: for instance, rather than writing “X lacks motivation and fails to complete tasks,” a strengths-based report might say “X shows enthusiasm in hands-on projects and could benefit from support in time management to complete tasks.” This shift might seem minor, but it changes the narrative from a blame focus to a support focus. Many social work and education programs now train professionals to be conscious of their phrasing, encouraging terms that convey empathy, hope, and accuracy over those that inadvertently blame or stereotype.

Training in cultural competence is also key to mitigating unconscious bias in language. When adults better understand a young person’s dialect or cultural style, they are less likely to mislabel confidence as rudeness, or family protectiveness as disengagement, and so on. For example, educators in diverse classrooms are encouraged to learn about dialectical differences (such as African American Vernacular English (AAVE) or regional patois) so that they don’t erroneously mark a student’s language as “wrong” or “unintelligent” when it may just be a different linguistic heritage. Instead of correcting a student’s every vernacular expression, a culturally competent approach might be to affirm the home language as valid and then discuss code-switching for academic contexts. This respects the student’s identity while still teaching flexibility.

Finally, open communication and reflection with young people themselves can guide language use. Some progressive programs involve young people in developing the terminology that will be used about them. For instance, asking a group of care-experienced young people how they feel about terms like “at-risk young person” might reveal that they find it stigmatising, leading the program to adopt a different term (perhaps “young person with lived experience” of something). In education, there’s a move toward destigmatising labels for ability groups or support services – using names that are neutral or positive (like calling a catch-up class “boost camp” instead of “remedial class”). Even disciplinary language is being rethought, rather than writing a student up for “insubordination” (a very charged word), some schools use descriptions like “refused to follow instruction” which, while still noting the issue, avoids the moral judgement implied by “insubordinate.” Such nuances, combined with restorative approaches (having conversations about behaviour rather than purely punitive notes), contribute to a more supportive atmosphere.

In summary, best practices for professionals’ language with young people revolve around: precision, empathy, and perspective-taking. Say exactly what you mean in terms of harm or need (precision), choose words that show understanding and avoid blame (empathy), and consider how the young person likely interprets those words (perspective-taking). By implementing guidelines from research and policy – like those urging a shift from labelling young people as “offenders” to recognising them as “exploited” – professionals can actively counteract the negative effects of labelling and bias. This creates a healthier environment for a young person’s development, where young people feel seen and heard for who they are, and are not forever defined by a slip-up, a circumstance beyond their control, or a stereotype. As a result, interventions can be more effective: a young person who trusts that a teacher or caseworker truly respects them is far more open to guidance. Indeed, building that trust often starts with language – words that convey, “I’m here to help you, not judge you.”