Internationally recognised art and literary critic, writer and cultural producer. Published in ELLE, Glamour, Esquire and Cosmopolitan; member of the Union of Writers.
Language has always been a fluid, evolving entity, but the recent additions to the Cambridge Dictionary feel less like a gentle current and more like a tidal wave. “Skibidi,” “delulu,” and “tradwife” have now been formally recognised, a move that confirms what many of us have suspected for some time: the engine of linguistic innovation has moved from the hallowed halls of academia and literature to the chaotic, vibrant world of social media. As a cultural critic, I find myself both intrigued and unnerved by this shift. It is a testament to the democratisation of language, but it also raises questions about the future of communication itself.
The inclusion of these words is not merely a novelty; it is a reflection of a profound change in how we create and disseminate culture. For generations, new words and phrases would slowly percolate through society, starting in subcultures and gradually making their way into the mainstream. The process was slow, organic, and often took decades. Now, thanks to platforms like TikTok, a new word can be coined, adopted, and spread across the globe in a matter of weeks. The dictionary, in this context, is no longer a preserver of tradition but a chronicler of trends.
Of course, there will be those who dismiss these new words as meaningless jargon, the linguistic equivalent of a sugar rush. And to some extent, they have a point. “Skibidi,” a word that can mean anything from “cool” to “bad” or nothing at all, is hardly a model of clarity. It is a word born of a meme, a viral video of singing toilet-bound heads that has captivated the youngest generation. Its meaning is not derived from etymology but from context, from a shared understanding of a particular corner of the internet. To the uninitiated, it is gibberish. To the initiated, it is a marker of belonging, a secret handshake in the digital age.
The term “tradwife” is a different beast altogether. It refers to a growing online movement of women who advocate for a return to traditional gender roles, celebrating a life of domesticity and submission to their husbands. The word itself is a portmanteau, a straightforward combination of “traditional” and “wife.” But its connotations are anything but simple. It is a word loaded with cultural baggage, a lightning rod for debates about feminism, choice, and the role of women in modern society. Its inclusion in the dictionary is a recognition of its cultural significance, a sign that this is a conversation that is not going away anytime soon.
Then there is “delulu,” a playful abbreviation of “delusional.” Originally used to describe obsessive K-pop fans who believed they had a real chance of dating their idols, the word has since been co-opted by a wider audience. It is often used with a sense of irony, a self-aware acknowledgment of one’s own irrational hopes and dreams. The phrase “delulu is the solulu” (delusion is the solution) has become a mantra for a generation that has been told to manifest its own reality. It is a coping mechanism, a way of navigating a world that often feels chaotic and uncertain.
What unites these three words is their origin in the digital sphere. They are all products of a culture that is increasingly lived online, a culture that is shaped by algorithms and influencers. The “broligarchy,” another new dictionary entry, refers to the tech titans who have created these platforms, the men who have become the new gatekeepers of culture. It is a clever and cutting term, a recognition of the immense power that a small group of individuals now wields over our collective consciousness.
As we become more reliant on technology, it is inevitable that our language will reflect that. The term “mouse jiggler,” a device or software that creates the illusion of work, is a perfect example of this. It is a word that could only have been born in the age of remote work, a testament to our ongoing struggle to find a balance between productivity and personal freedom. Similarly, the phrase “work spouse” speaks to the changing nature of our relationships in the workplace, the blurring of lines between the personal and the professional.
The question, of course, is what all of this means for the future of the English language. Are we witnessing a golden age of linguistic creativity, a moment when anyone with a smartphone can contribute to the evolution of our shared vocabulary? Or are we heading towards a future of linguistic chaos, a world where meaning is fluid and communication is increasingly fragmented?
The truth, I suspect, is somewhere in between. Language has always been a messy, unruly thing, a reflection of the society that creates it. The new words that are entering our dictionary may be strange and unfamiliar to some, but they are a vital sign of a culture that is alive and constantly reinventing itself. They are a reminder that language is not a static set of rules but a living, breathing organism, one that will continue to evolve in ways that we can’t yet imagine. And as a critic, I can’t help but be excited by the prospect. After all, it is in the margins, in the unexpected and the unconventional, that the most interesting stories are often told.
