Another freaking f-word

I never fully adopted freaking as an intensifier, euphemistic for fucking, partly because I swear fairly freely, and maybe also because fecking was available in my Irish English dialect. But I like having freaking available, and with its hundredth birthday round the corner, it’s a good time to showcase it.1

Freaking substitutes for its ruder cousin in all sorts of lexical and syntactic contexts, modifying adjectives (that was freaking amazing), verbs (let’s freaking go), and nouns (how is it still freaking January?), among other word classes; it’s also used as an infix (un-freaking-real) and in set phrases like freakin’ A – euphemistic, obviously, for fucking A.

Origins and use

The earliest known use of this freaking – the first citation in Green’s Dictionary of Slang, Jesse Sheidlower’s The F-Word, and the OED – is in the 1928 novel Georgie May, where author Maxwell Bodenheim uses two freakings and a freakin’, including:

“Gawd, ah hate the hull, freaking pack uh you,” she cried, between her sobbing.

The next example those dictionaries list is in Nelson Algren’s The Man with the Golden Arm (1949):

“You point that freakin’ finger at me ’n you’re one dead pointer.”

That 21-year gap doesn’t mean no one was using it in the meantime. I found the line “You freaking fool!” in the 1937 screwball comedy Nothing Sacred, available on YouTube and the Internet Archive at around the 47m 40s mark:

Films and TV, with their heightened emotions and industrious regulators, are a natural home for this expressive but family-friendly expletive. A chart from COCA shows its use concentrated in those media, occurring at over four times the rate in fiction generally and over six times the rate in speech:2

As Wiktionary notes, “Freaking (or fricking) is often used in motion pictures as a substitute for fucking so that characters can be shown to swear without the motion picture incurring censorship or a higher certificate than it otherwise might.”

Less discerningly, the Encyclopædia Britannica says freaking is “used to make an angry statement more forceful”. That’s not wrong, but it’s misleadingly narrow: freaking can amplify all sorts of emotions, even joy – ask Ned Flanders.

WikiHow knows this. An article by Wits End Parenting and Elaine Heredia says you can use freaking “to emphasize how great something or someone is” and that it “can be a positive or negative word based on context”. It adds that the word “isn’t a sin to say”, in case you were wondering.

Data

Freaking is on the rise but has been levelling off, according to data in COCA and Google’s Ngram Viewer. Rows under the dates below show frequency (i.e., number of uses), number of million words in the sample, and (hence, by division) per-million figures for direct comparison:

That levelling off is despite global use. Geographically, freaking is most popular not in the US but in Singapore, per the GloWbE corpus (freakin has the same top two, reversed). Malaysia comes in third, followed by Canada, Australia, and the Philippines:

Jack Grieve’s eye-catching swear maps of the USA, meanwhile, allow us to zoom in on what States are especially partial to freaking and freakin. Californians’ relative coolness towards them came as a surprise:

Browsing the word’s collocates (freaking/freakin’ ___) in COCA shows the company it keeps. High-ranking +1s include the adjectives awesome, amazing, hilarious, crazy, cool, hot, stupid, hard, and huge; nouns like idiot, mind, thing, break, genius, clue, and deal; and occasional verbs, like love, hate, kidding, and kill.

Some of these invite us to extrapolate the full phrases, or chunks: big freaking deal; give me a freakin’ break; not have a freaking clue; out of my/your/etc. freaking mind; Are you freakin’ kidding?

Other language corpora, such as the 14-billion-word iWeb, show a similar pattern of collocations:

Easily topping the +1s are the preposition out and the pronoun me: a sign of how well freaking [me] out caught on as an idiom, with multiple senses, after being coined in the 1960s. That’s a different usage, of course: not the intensifier freaking but the verb freak (or rather the verb phrase freak out) in the present progressive tense.

Pragmatics

Zappa fits right in here: freaking offers outsider energy for any self-defined freak (or geek) who cares to use it.3 The word’s gently countercultural flavour is also apparent in dictionary citations, where Tom Wolfe’s name recurs.

What makes freaking effective as a minced oath, and attractive to mild and novice swearers, is that it offers proximity to (and thus evocation of) strong swearing while remaining relatively benign. We see this niche exploited expertly by a child in the vampire comic 30 Days of Night: Return to Barrow:

A little later the boy defaults to freakin’, this time automatically obeying his father’s no-swearing rule, and making the word more casual by dropping the g:

Freaking is not always a straightforward substitute for fucking, however. The particular way that it lands caused slight consternation for slang expert Michael Adams when his son started using it at the age of seven:

. . . he’s not just saying That’s freakin’ cool or No freakin’ way. No, he’s saying things like What the freak?! which is a long way from Oh, my gosh on the euphemism scale. There’s the underlying profanity. There’s the phonetics. There’s the fact — apparently — that What the hell? and What the freak? — while parallel — signify differently.4

Films redubbed for TV broadcast have mixed fortunes with it, as my post “Freak those monkey-fightin’ melon farmers!” shows. “I don’t need full freakin’ forensics” in Die Hard 2 (1990) is passable, if implausible in a police station, while “Freak you!” in Casino (1995) is comically underpowered.

In his 2016 book In Praise of Profanity (which I reviewed here and recommend), Michael Adams discusses how the vowels, consonants, and pragmatics of various “partial euphemisms” for fuck – feck, frak, frick, frig, and their freaky fraternity – do their work:

. . . although people usually think euphemisms work because they substitute for profanity, in fact many euphemisms are themselves partially profane, because they more or less cover up profanities—usually less—that are still inscribed in the situations of their use, and our minds’ eyes see through them to the profanities . . . . what makes profanity and the relevant euphemisms pragmatically powerful and interesting is that the euphemisms are often both euphemisms and profanity, a fact not unknown in linguistic circles but too often overlooked when we calculate the logic of language attitudes.

We’re advocates of strong language here at Strong Language, but we know it’s not suitable for all occasions: sometimes a softball is called for. And among the many euphemisms for fucking, freaking has, in a century or so of use, established itself as a truly effective and useful option. It may be mild, but it’s got freakin’ game.

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1 The OED also lists an obsolete, mid-17thC sense of freaking (adj.): “Of a person: inclined to change his or her mind, mood, or behaviour suddenly and unaccountably; given to freakish ideas; capricious, fickle, whimsical.” One of its fans was Samuel freakin’ Pepys: “He told me what a mad freaking fellow Sir Ellis Layton hath been” (Diary, 25 January, 1665).

2 I was unable to separate the verb freaking from the intensifier using part-of-speech tags in COCA, GloWbE, and iWeb, so these uses are combined in the graphs. To fortify the data somewhat I checked 300 examples in each corpus and found that, in COCA, 76% were the intensifier and 24% were the verb (freaking out, or plain freaking with the same sense); in GloWbE it was 74% and 26%, and in iWeb 68% and 32%. So you can consider the graphs broadly indicative but with that significant caveat.

3 We still don’t know where freak came from: origin unknown, the dictionaries say, though the OED offers speculation. Skeat says freak in the sense “whim” is of Germanic origin, being frec “bold, rash” in Old English.

4 Adams has also analyzed the use of freaking in the TV series 13 Reasons Why, tracing a character’s graduation from euphemistic to full-bore profanity.

“Don’t give a f#@&”

Note: This post was originally published in a slightly different form on Fritinancy, my Substack newsletter.

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“DON’T GIVE A F#@&” shouts the headline on a two-page ad in a recent Sunday New York Times. Instead of giving a f#@&, we’re instructed to “give an e.l.f.” — to substitute a three-initial brand name for a four-letter taboo word.

E.l.f. is a cosmetics brand — the initials stand for eyes, lips, face, and the name is pronounced as an acronym, elf — that calls itself “a different kind of beauty company.” (Where is the entrepreneur bold enough to launch “the same kind of beauty company”?) Founded in 2004 and based in Oakland, California (my hometown!), e.l.f sells its potions online, in U.S. retail chains such as Target, and in brick-and-mortar shops in 17 other countries. The company has partnered with singer-songwriter Alicia Keys on a sub-brand, Keys Soulcare, and recently made headlines for its $1 billion (!) acquisition of Rhode, Hailey Rhode Bieber’s line of “edited, efficacious, and intentional” skincare and makeup products.

How “different” is e.l.f.? Here’s the facing page of that ad:

Translation: Unlike our heartless competitors, e.l.f. cares (“gives a fuck/gives an e.l.f.”) about women in sports, fair trade certification, empowering legendary females (another e.l.f.!), et cetera. It gives so many e.l.f.s about “double-certified cruelty free” that it gives that virtue a double mention.

The campaign took its message to the streets of Manhattan last week, and Breaking and Entering Media was on the scene of the “activation,” to use the jargon-y term:

View this post on Instagram

The corporate website devotes a page — “Impact” — to more details:

GIVE A F#@&. GIVE AN e.l.f..

We give soooo many e.l.f.s — always have, always will.
From changing the board game to amplifying voices —
and donating 2% of annual profits to causes YOU care
about. It’s all in our 4th annual impact report.

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This isn’t the first time e.l.f. has flirted with naughty words. The corporate blog is called “The e.l.f. Word,” which winks at “the F-word.” The “page loading” graphic on the corporate website reads “Let’s Elfing Gooo.” (For more on “let’s fucking go,” see my January 2020 Strong Language post.)

And in 2024, the company launched “So Many Dicks,” a campaign that wasn’t exactly about penises. Its argument was the fact that men named Dick (or Richard, Rick, or Rich) outnumbered women of any name on the corporate boards of publicly traded companies. (Two-thirds of e.l.f’s board members are women.) “We want to normalize diversity — and if it takes some e.l.f.ing in-your-face advertising to do it, we’re happy to put it on some of the biggest screens you can imagine,” the company’s chief marketing officer, Kory Marchisotto, said at the time.

E.l.f. clearly likes to turn its brand name into various parts of speech, which is cheeky and a little risky. (Trademark lawyers will tell you it leads to genericide.) But I want to focus on something else about the current ad campaign, namely: Is it even possible, linguistically, to “give an e.l.f.”? Or a fuck? If it is, how many e.l.f.s (or fucks) can you give? And by the way: How long have we been giving (or not giving) fucks?

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I’ll take the last question first.

In the fourth edition of his indispensable The F-Word, Jesse Sheidlower traces the original DGAF abbreviation (“don’t give a fuck” = don’t care) to a 1995 Usenet posting. But DILLIGAF — “do I look like I give a fuck?” — is considerably older: Jesse found it in Current Slang, volume 5, number 1, from 1970: “‘D.I.L.L.I.G.A.F.’ or DILLIGAF, n. An irresponsible person. . . . adj. Irresponsible.” The meaning has shifted over the decades to something closer to “indifference” or even “scorn”; The F-Word’s most recent citation, from 2020, concerns a New York City police officer who wore a face mask depicting the Punisher’s skull logo along with DILLIGAF.

As for the other questions, they’re catnip for the contributors (or co-fuckers, as we like to say) here at Strong Language. Linguistic anthropologist Stephen Chrisomalis, for example, tackled the issue of countable fucks back in 2014, under the heading “How many swears can we give?” Stephen’s jumping-off point was a then-popular meme, “Look at all the fucks I give”:

‘Give a damn’, ‘give a shit’, ‘give a fuck’, and other such items are all examples of negative polarity items (NPIs), which are unmarked when they occur in negative contexts. If you’re familiar with the phrase give a fuck, then you don’t need to be told that this is a rephrasing of I don’t give a fuck, because it rarely occurs as a positive polarity item (e.g. I give a fuck about you sounds odd).

(Emphasis added.)

Which would make “Don’t give a F#@&” and “Give an e.l.f.” sound slightly wrong to our ears. In advertising, though, that strangeness can be an asset: It creates just enough friction to be memorable.

Besides, as John Kelly observed less than a year after Stephen published his post, although “I give a fuck” is “not a way we would normally express care,” the expression is increasingly being used for humorous effect. Case in point: “I give zero fucks.” John wrote:

In 2015, giving zero fucks isn’t about not caring per se. Giving zero fucks is about an I’m-over-it ignoring of haters, trolls, and bullies, to draw on some popular vernacular; it’s about leaning in, #beingyourself, having swagger, no more ass-kissing or bullshit-taking. But this is a two-sided fuck, if you will. A zero-fucks approach can have a liberating assertiveness and self-confidence, but it also runs the risk of being heedless, uncompromising, irresponsible, or unfeeling, as Emma Gray smartly warned in her exhortation for us to give more fucks. This is an age-old tension for the individual in society, of course, but one that seems like it’s being more intensely staged in the modern psyche, on Twitter feeds, and American politics.

And in 2019, Ben Zimmer updated the discussion with “New Frontiers in the Giving of Fucks and Shits.” The post includes a spirited music video, “I’ve No More Fucks to Give,” which is the very best sort of earworm.

Probably not, though, for e.l.f., which is very much in the fucks-giving spirit this season. Ho ho ho!

#beingyourself #cosmetics #dgaf #dilligaf #eLF #lfg #mincedOaths

"Clusterbleep". Not its first use, but a notable one from an Irish politician https://www.thejournal.ie/barry-cowen-clusterbleep-gavin-6872025-Nov2025/

#swearing #euphemism #bleep #SelfCensorship #profanity #MincedOaths

Sorry, but I can't resist posting this authentic frontier gibberish from the Bismarck Tribune, North Dakota, 1883, "An Old Frontiersman Talks":

"You say Ol Grant* was 'yar with the gang
And the capital's one hoo-doo
And the people cheered him like billy-be dang
Why, pardner, it can't be true!"

* US President Ulysses S. Grant

#AuthenticFrontierGibberish #AmericanEnglish #slang #MincedOaths #NorthDakota

As an old school teacher and linguistics dropout, I've thunk a good deal about #MincedOaths. #KidFriendlyCussWords ... So I feel compelled to share these when the topic comes up.