The Words We Use matter more than you think

Words are the raw material of our work. As celebrants, we are constantly making choices about language. which words to reach for, which phrases feel right, which terms will land warmly and which might inadvertently land with a thud. Most of us think carefully about the words that are most personal and poetic – the vows, the tribute, the readings. But inclusive language in ceremonies asks us to go further than that. It asks us to look at the everyday language we use without thinking: the forms we send out, the phrases we default to in consultations, the words we use to describe relationships, families, bodies, and beliefs.

It’s in those unexamined defaults that people most often feel unseen.

How language shapes experience

Language doesn’t just describe the world. It shapes how people feel within it. A word or phrase that seems entirely neutral to one person can communicate – clearly and unmistakably – to another person that this space wasn’t designed with them in mind.

I’ve spoken to people who have attended ceremonies where a celebrant referred to “mothers and fathers” when their own family structure included neither. To trans people whose ceremony used pronouns or terms that didn’t reflect who they are. People with disabilities whose specific access needs were discussed as an afterthought, in language that reduced them to their condition rather than their personhood. To people from cultures and faith traditions whose language was subtly reframed to fit a more familiar mould.

In each case, the celebrant almost certainly meant no harm. The language simply reflected what was familiar. The default setting, if you like, of the world they’d grown up in.

Inclusive language in ceremonies is the practice of questioning those defaults.

Where language bias most commonly appears

Gendered language is perhaps the most common place where celebrants inadvertently exclude. Terms like “ladies and gentlemen” to open a ceremony, “husband and wife” as the default for a couple, “bride and groom,” “mother and father”.  All carry assumptions about gender and relationship structure that may not fit the people you’re serving. The shift to more open language – “partners,” “couple,” “family,” “everyone gathered here” – is often smaller than it feels. And the difference it makes to people who don’t fit the assumed norm is significant.

Ableist language is less often discussed but equally important. Phrases that use disability as a metaphor like “blind to the possibilities,” “fell on deaf ears,” “standing strong”, can be jarring for people with those disabilities and their families.

The language we use around disability in consultations matters too: ask about access needs rather than “special requirements,” and describe what someone needs rather than what they can’t do.

Language around faith and belief requires care, especially in funeral ceremonies where the temptation to reach for reassuring spiritual language is understandable. Phrases like “gone to a better place,” “with the angels,” “passed” – all carry spiritual or religious meaning that may not reflect the beliefs of the family you’re serving. The most inclusive approach is to ask, and then use the family’s own language back to them.

Assumption-based language in our paperwork and processes deserves attention too. An enquiry form that asks for “bride’s name” and “groom’s name” sends a signal before any conversation has happened. A questionnaire that assumes the couple have been together in a conventional way, or that assumes a particular structure of family and support, shapes what people feel able to share with you.

What inclusive language is not

It’s worth saying clearly: inclusive language in ceremonies is not about walking on eggshells. Or replacing warmth with careful clinical terminology, or performing a kind of linguistic virtue that feels hollow to everyone involved.

This is about genuine curiosity. It’s about asking people what words feel right to them, and then using those words. It’s about not assuming and then listening carefully to what you hear.

The example I always come back to is pronouns. Using someone’s correct pronouns isn’t a political statement. It’s basic respect. And if you’re not yet sure how to ask about pronouns in a way that feels natural, the good news is that it gets easier very quickly and people almost universally appreciate being asked.

Similarly, replacing “mother and father” with “parents and guardians” in your standard questionnaire doesn’t reduce the warmth of your ceremony. It opens the door a little wider, so that more people can step through it feeling that this space was built for them.

A practical starting point

If you want to begin reviewing the language you use in your work, here are three places to start:

Look at your enquiry form or initial contact process.

What assumptions are embedded in the questions you ask? What terms do you use that could be more open?

Look at your ceremony habits.

Are there phrases you use by default – in how you open a ceremony, how you describe the people present, how you close – that carry unexamined assumptions?

Look at the language you use in consultations.

When you talk about families, relationships, and the people who matter most to your clients, what words do you reach for automatically?

You don’t need to overhaul everything at once. You need to start noticing. And once you start noticing, you’ll find the changes come more naturally than you might expect.

Language evolves. Our understanding of what it means to communicate with genuine respect and care evolves too. The most inclusive celebrants aren’t the ones who got it right once and stopped learning. They’re the ones who stayed curious.

Our CPD-accredited Inclusion and Diversity module includes a detailed section on language, bias, and practical steps for using more inclusive language across your celebrant work. If you’d like to go deeper, you can find out more on the website.

And if you’re exploring celebrancy as a career and looking for training that takes these questions seriously from the very start, I’d love to have a conversation. Book an Informed Decision Session and we’ll take it from there.

Warmly, Dinah
She/Her