The single most complex word in the English language may be the word Matter. Scientifically, the word defines the substance of everything in the world. Sadly, that complex concept is as simple as it gets. When used as a verb, it gets less material. The real problem with the word is that nothing really matters, except that which matters, and even that only matters because it matters.
I was recently annoyed by the dismissive use of “it doesn't matter” to a point; as if there were a clear-cut reasoning behind what matters. In reality, if a subject did not matter at all, then would it even be discussed? Based on how languages evolve, there would not be a word for things that truly do not matter. Name one thing that does not have a word! The answers are few and far between (before you get stuck on that rhetorical challenge, use this one: after my father died when I was young, I realized there was no word to describe parents when one is alive and the other is deceased).
When someone discusses things that matter, there is an understood “to me” is at the end of each sentence (much like the understood “you” is the subject to verbs in imperative sentences). Many people seem to displace that fact, and they start to operate under the false impression that things that matter are universal. Conflict ensues.
Shelter, food, and clothing are considered necessities. We can universally apply matter (the verb) to them. Family matters to most people, but truthfully, the understood “to me” begins there (albeit, we can even apply an understood “to most people” to it). Everything from family to the most frivolous things begin to matter with varying degrees set internally.
The lowest common denominator to this point may be political correctness. I cannot speak to the benefits or detriments of political correctness as a whole (I believe it carries a lot of both), but objectively speaking, it has been very effective. Most of the words deemed “offensive” do not matter to me, which is to say I am not offended by their usage or abuse. Honestly, I have rarely done more than merely adapt to cultural shifts, but looking back at how quickly some terms have been erased from our lexicon is impressive.
A recent airing of an older episode of “South Park” demonstrated this seamless adjustment. The boys were using the word “R-tard” as an insult. Not the full word, the abbreviated word. At the time of the show's recording, the adjustment was probably appreciated since the alternative was considerably more offensive. I can appreciate this word because I lovingly called my cat by that (full) word when he was young, but the cleansing of the word occurred during his 14-year (and counting) lifespan. During the adjustment, I remember consciously replacing that word with the more offensive adjective "brain dead" in it place (which I have since stopped using even that phrase) and I cannot even remember if I used another noun in its place. As far as I recall, I just stopped calling my cat by that term (albeit, I would argue that my cat's name simply became synonymous with "brain dead" by then).
The popularity of that word's use to insult anything out of the ordinary has virtually evaporated nowadays. I believe it was in 2009 that both President Obama and Lindsay Lohan carelessly used the word in public statements and they were publicly raked over the coals (figuratively speaking, of course). Half a decade later, I cannot remember the last time I have heard it used so flippantly. Even I rarely use the word "braindead" anymore. For the most part, the word "stupid" is strong enough for us to express ourselves adequately.
Did the careless usage of that word matter? To most, yes. Did it really matter though? Some could reasonably say no while others could aggressively argue yes. In this specific case, the offensive use of the word mattered more than the frivolous abuse of the word (again, "to most people" applies here). When does it matter and when does it not? The answer: when it matters to you.
