Words have power — not just to inform, persuade, or flatter, but also to provoke visceral reactions in the people who hear them. Some words make people wince, cringe, or shudder for reasons they can barely explain. Others annoy through overuse, misuse, or superfluity, becoming the linguistic equivalent of someone scraping their nails down a blackboard. 

Research into word aversion — the phenomenon of finding a perfectly ordinary word inexplicably annoying or revolting — has grown into a genuine field of linguistic study. And the words we hate fall broadly into two distinct camps: those that offend the ear and those that offend our intelligence. Here are some of the most hated words in the English language, based on the results of various polls and surveys from Oxford University Press, Merriam-Webster, Marist Poll, and more.  

“Moist” is the undisputed champion of hated words, appearing in polls across the English-speaking world. In 2016, a study by psychology professor Paul Thibodeau found that 10% to 20% of the U.S.  population is averse to the word. Perhaps surprisingly, his research suggested that the phonological properties of “moist” — the way it sounds — weren’t the primary driver of people’s dislike. Instead, it was the word’s semantic features — its association with bodily functions — that primarily caused the negative reaction. It’s notable that similar-sounding words such as “foist” and “hoist” don’t inspire such hatred, because they lack the tactile, visceral connotation. 

“Phlegm” is another word that people dislike, for very much the same reasons as “moist.” The thick, sticky substance produced by the respiratory tract is unpleasant enough as a concept, and the word itself manages to sound like what it describes — heavy, clogged, and slightly threatening. Other words of a similar nature that often appear in polls include “flesh,” “cyst,” and “mucus.”

“Squelch” is a fine example of an onomatopoeic word that makes many people cringe. It accurately imitates the unpleasantly wet, sucking sound of something soft and waterlogged — doing its job almost too well. Talking to Bustle, linguist Mariana Ureña further explained how “squ” contains a consonant blend, so the speaker “has to pronounce each letter, and it’s a somewhat complex sound to make” — perhaps explaining why “squirt” and “squirm” also appear on lists of unpopular words. 

“Whatever” is a perennial front-runner in polls about annoying words. It was ranked the most hated word in America for 12 consecutive years, according to the annual Marist Poll, and in 2020, it received a massive 47% of the vote. Its power to irritate lies in its antagonistic indifference — its usage and tone are often dismissive, passive-aggressive, lazy, and rude, creating a perfect storm of semantic distaste. 

“Irregardless” is another word that makes people wince. The standard form is “regardless,” which carries the exact same meaning. Adding “ir-” to the front is at best superfluous, and at worst a double negative. But there is a caveat here that can be used against word pedants: “Irregardless” actually dates back to the late 18th century and has been in fairly consistent use ever since. So, while it is now considered a nonstandard word by many dictionaries (which do typically include it), it is not technically incorrect, despite being slightly annoying.   

The use of “like” has been inspiring linguistic debate for decades. People have argued over whether it should be used as an adverb or as a conjunction, but the more typical complaint is simple overuse. It has, undeniably, become a hugely popular filler word, and not only in American “Valley girl” speak. As The Guardian pointed out, one episode of the British reality TV show Love Island featured a five-minute conversation in which “like” was uttered 76 times — once every four seconds. But while some people see it as a sign of laziness or a lack of education, linguists have defended “like,” arguing that it is actually a highly versatile and dynamic word. 

“Bae” is a term of endearment that became popular in the 2000s as a shortened form of either “babe” or “baby.” (The idea that it’s an acronym for “before anyone else” was likely a backronym thought up after it was already in use.) It remains common today, but in a U.S. survey by Preply, 29% of respondents voted it one of the most disliked slang words, with Gen X finding it particularly obnoxious. And in the U.K., a poll conducted by the research agency Perspectus Global found that 25% of Brits were irritated by “bae.” The word’s rapid rise, its cloyingly lovey-dovey usage, and its association with influencers and performative social media clips have all helped earn “bae” its bad reputation.

In 2015, the women’s underwear brand Knix Wear teamed up with linguistics expert Mark Liberman to find out what everyday words make women cringe. The aforementioned “moist” and “squirt” topped the list, followed by “panties,” with 54% of respondents finding it “uncomfortable.” This seemingly innocuous word doesn’t have the bodily-function association of “moist,” the onomatopoeic heft of “squelch,” or any of the overuse or misuse issues mentioned previously — so why do women struggle with it? Language psychologist Paul Thibodeau, talking to Yahoo Health, explained how the word sits on an uneasy juxtaposition of childhood and eroticism. “For a very young person, ‘panties’ is almost euphemistic [for underwear] — it’s gentle,” he said. But later in life, the word “sort of takes on these sexual properties — it becomes risqué — as people grow up.” It’s yet another example of the weird ways in which the human mind takes issue with certain words that are otherwise entirely harmless.  

In the animal kingdom, tacking on an “-s” doesn’t necessarily make a term plural. While the plural of “dog” is “dogs,” the plural of “mouse” is “mice, and the plural of “moose” is just “moose.” So what’s the protocol when it comes to more than one fish — should it be written as “fishes” or just “fish”? Well, the answer is a bit complex, as both are correct terms with slightly different meanings.

If you’re talking about multiple examples of a single fish species, the correct plural is just “fish.” Imagine, for instance, that you have a fish tank filled with only goldfish. You’d say, “I have a tank full of fish.” The same goes if you’re fishing and catch lots of bass — and only bass. It’d be proper to exclaim, “I caught tons of fish yesterday.” You could also refer to a large number of the same species as “schools of fish,” with “school” being the collective noun for groups of fish.

Merriam-Webster does accept “fishes” as an acceptable plural, but that’s not how “fishes” was originally intended to be used. The proper use of “fishes” is for when you’re discussing more than one fish species. For example, it’s more appropriate to say “all the fishes in the sea” instead of “all the fish in the sea” if you’re referring to the many species one can find in the ocean. Or if you went fishing and caught both trout and bass, you should say, “I caught lots of fishes today.” Of course, nobody would really bat an eye if you used “fish” to refer to multiple species. But traditionally, “fishes” is more accurate.

“Fishes” is also used as the present tense of the verb “to fish.” You could say, “He always fishes early on Saturday mornings.”

But for the plural noun form, using either “fish” or “fishes” isn’t likely to offend whomever you’re speaking with. Both will almost certainly make sense to everyone within earshot, unless you’re talking to a piscine perfectionist. Just keep in mind that in general, it’s traditional to use “fish” if you’re describing one species, and “fishes” when discussing multiple species.

You’ve probably caught a whiff of that pleasant odor that permeates the air in the wake of a rainstorm — but did you know there’s a specific term for that fragrant phenomenon? It’s called petrichor (more on that in a minute). In fact, the English language is full of lesser-used words that describe specific smells we’re all familiar with, whether it’s as delightful as rain or as offputting as a sweaty gym bag. Here are 10 odd examples of scent-specific terms.

The term “petrichor” refers to the earthy and typically pleasant odor that flits through the air after it rains. This scent generally pops up during warm, dry periods. It’s caused by a combination of plant oils and the organic soil-based compound geosmin, which are released into the air post-rainfall. “Petrichor” was introduced to the lexicon in 1964 by chemists Isabel Joy Bear and Richard Grenfell Thomas in the journal Nature, combining “petro-” (“rock”) with “-ichor” (“thin watery discharge”).

After cooking a nice Italian pasta dish, you may have trouble getting rid of that garlicky smell from your fingertips. That odor can be described as alliaceous, which means “resembling garlic or onion especially in smell or taste.” The word is derived from the Latin allium, which means “garlic.”

A strong odor of any kind could be called a nidor, which means “a strong smell.” However, the word is most commonly used in kitchens to refer to the smell of cooking or burning meat or fat. While “nidor” is a noun, it can also take the form of the adjective “nidorous.” After enjoying a nidorous meal, you may expel a “nidorosity,” or a belch that tastes like meat.

Harsh chemicals, smoke emanating from a forest fire, and burning plastic could all aptly be described as acrid. This word means “unpleasantly pungent in odor,” often to the point that the smell irritates the senses. It was coined in the early 18th century from the Latin acer, meaning “sharp to the senses.”

When “redolent” was coined in the 15th century, it simply referred to anything that had an aroma. But over time, it came to apply to places or objects permeated with odors that evoke memories. After all, smell is known to trigger vivid memories in our brains. For instance, the scent of old books in a vintage book shop may take you back to reading those books for the first time when you were younger. Or the redolent smells of freshly cut grass may evoke memories of childhood summers from days gone by.

The word “hircine” is a highly specific term meaning “of, or relating to, or suggestive of a goat.” It’s derived from the Latin hircus, meaning “a male goat.” Someone who works at a petting zoo, for instance, may come home with hircine odors wafting off their clothing.

If something is offensive to your sense of smell, it could be described as noisome. The term dates to the 14th century, from the Middle English “noysome,” with “noy” meaning “annoyance.” Despite the similar spelling, it has nothing to do with the word “noisy,” though a noisome smell and a noisy sound may be equally annoying.

Have you ever caught an unpleasant whiff of a passerby smoking cigarettes? That lingering smell could be described as mundungus. This 17th-century word specifically refers to foul-smelling tobacco. It comes from the Spanish mondongo, meaning “tripe” — or the insides of an animal, which don’t exactly smell pleasant either.

In a mythical sense, the word “ambrosia” refers to the food or perfume of the gods. Its adjectival form, “ambrosial,” can be used to describe any extremely pleasant smells. If the smell in question is nice and fragrant — such as a high-end perfume or a decadent dinner — it can be referred to as ambrosial.

When you enter a gym or locker room, you may be overcome by the unpleasant wafting odors that come about due to kakidrosis. This noun, meaning “secretion of sweat of a disagreeable odor,” is perfect to refer to those musty locker rooms you may recall from playing football in high school. The term is derived from the Greek kakos, meaning “bad,” combined with hidrosis, meaning “sweat.”

One of the oddities of the English language is that words can have multiple contradictory definitions. Think of the word “trim” — it can mean “to decorate,” as in “trim the tree,” or it can mean “to remove excess material,” as in “trim my bangs.” These words with opposite definitions can be called contronyms, antagonyms, autoantonyms, and Janus words. (Janus was the ancient Roman god of beginnings and endings, often depicted with two faces looking in opposite directions, one to the past and the other to the future.) Here are some of the most common contronyms you’ll come across in your everyday vocabulary.

You need to know a little about the history of archery for this one. “Bolt” originally comes from the Germanic bolz, meaning “crossbow.” When it came into Old English, “bolt” referred to both a crossbow and its projectiles, which were short, stout arrows with heavy heads. Later, in Middle English, “bolt” came to refer to any short metal rod. By the 15th century, the word also applied to pins used to fasten objects together.

The weaponry gave rise to other usages of the word. The purpose of a crossbow is to launch an arrow with great velocity. Thus, as early as the 13th century, “bolt” as a verb came to mean “to make a quick start,” and by the 17th century, it meant “to leave suddenly.”

So now, “bolt” has contradictory meanings — as a noun it refers to a metal rod used to fasten objects together firmly, and as a verb, it means “to move suddenly,” in one sense meaning you are no longer connected.

In ancient combat, warriors used shields to protect against blows. At the center of those shields was the boss, a round, convex piece of thick metal meant to ward off strikes. 

In Late Latin, buccula referred to the boss of a shield, based on the Latin bucca, meaning “cheek,” as its shape was similar to the round part of the face. In the Middle Ages, “bocle” referred to both a shield’s boss and to a ring. By the 14th century, “bocle” had turned into “buckle,” a word for a fastener. 

But “buckle” as a verb also means “to collapse.” The underlying idea is that strong pressure was required to create the rounded boss of heavy metal for a shield. The verb form can be traced to the French boucler, meaning “to bulge.”

These similar roots give “buckle” its contradictory meanings. As a noun, it is a fastener. As a verb it can mean “to fasten with a buckle,” but also “to cause to bend and crumple.” 

The two contradictory meanings of “cleave” derive from two distinct Old English words. “Cleave,” meaning “to adhere together closely,” derives from the Old English clifian, meaning “to adhere.” “Cleave,” meaning “to split,” is from the Old English clēofan, also meaning “to split.” It’s only happenstance that both Old English words evolved to one modern spelling with two opposite meanings.

We clip the hedges when we cut them with a sharp instrument, but we also clip pages together when we fasten them with a paperclip or a stapler.

When referring to cutting things apart, “clip” is from the Old Norse klippa, meaning “to cut or sever with a sharp instrument.” The “clip” for fastening things together is from the Old English clyppan, meaning “to embrace, clasp, surround,” unrelated to the Old Norse word.  

“Fast” can mean either “firmly fixed, constant, steadfast,” as in “colorfast fabrics” and “fast asleep,” or “characterized by quick motion, operation, or effect,” as in a “fast runner.”  

In Old English, faest meant “to be firmly fixed, secure, enclosed, watertight,” giving us the constancy usage. The adjective and adverb usage probably comes from the Old Norse fast, which meant “firmly” but also had the usage of “vigorously,” giving rise to the “speedily” connotation. Another theory ties the adverb to the “held firm” context, meaning someone who runs fast will stick closely to whatever he is chasing. 

If you take charge of something, you have oversight of the project. But if you make an error in doing so, it’s an oversight. “Oversight” can mean both “to direct or manage a job, process, or organization,” and “to make a careless error.”

Unlike some other contronyms, both these meanings derive from the same compound word. “Over” is from the Old English ofer, meaning “beyond, above, across,” and “sight” is from the Old English gesiht, meaning “faculty of sight, vision.” When managing something, you are looking over everything, and when making a mistake, you’re overlooking something. 

A legal authority can either permit or prohibit conduct. In the legal context, a sanction is a punishment, as when the United Nations imposes sanctions against member nations. But “sanction” can also mean “to authorize an action,” as in the example of a FIFA-sanctioned soccer tournament.

Context is the key to understanding which meaning applies, because they both come from the same root. “Sanction” derives from the Latin sanctionem, meaning “the act of decreeing or ordaining, a decree, ordinance, or law.” Initially, “sanction” applied to ecclesiastical decrees. The extended sense of imposing an authoritative penalty arose in the 17th century, and by the 18th century it applied to authoritative permission outside of church decrees.