The Quiet Violence of “Just”

"I just wanted to check in." "It's just a small thing." "I'm just a writer." Read those again. Take the just out of each one. Notice what changes.

"I wanted to check in." "It's a small thing." "I'm a writer." Suddenly the sentences stand up straight. The just was doing something, and what it was doing was crouching - making the sentence smaller, softer, less likely to take up space.

I started noticing my own justs in emails a couple of years ago, and I was horrified. I just wanted to follow up. I was just wondering. Just a quick question. Every one of them was an apology for existing. I'd been shrinking myself, one word at a time, and I hadn't even known I was doing it.

What the word is actually doing

Just has a lot of jobs. It can mean fair (a just ruling). It can mean exactly (just right). It can mean recently (just arrived). But the just I'm talking about is the minimizing one - the one that means "only," "merely," "nothing more than."

And that just is a shrinking ray. Point it at anything and the thing gets smaller. "A mistake" becomes "just a mistake." "An idea" becomes "just an idea." The word tells the reader: don't take this too seriously. Lower your expectations. It's not much.

Sometimes that's exactly what you want. If you're softening a blow, or making something feel approachable, a well-placed just can do real work. "It's just a scratch" is a kindness. The problem isn't the word. The problem is that we use it without meaning to.

The self-directed version

The most damaging just is the one we point at ourselves. "I'm just a beginner." "It's just a hobby." "I just write for fun." Each of these takes something real and files it down until it can't cut anyone, including us.

There was a stretch where I introduced myself as "just a copywriter" for years. Not a writer - just a copywriter. The word was a pre-emptive strike, a way of lowering the bar before anyone else could. If I called it small first, nobody could disappoint me by agreeing.

But the reader - and the listener - takes you at your word. Tell someone it's just an idea and they'll treat it like one. Tell them it's an idea, and they might sit up.

The fix isn't deletion

I used to think the answer was to delete every just on sight, the way people are told to hunt down adverbs. But that's too blunt. Some justs are load-bearing. "Just then, the door opened" needs its just. "That's just how she talks" would lose something without it.

The real fix is to notice. When I write just now, I stop and ask what it's doing. Is it marking time (just then)? Is it precision (just enough)? Or is it me, crouching again, making myself smaller so nobody has to reckon with what I actually said?

Most of the time, when I take it out, nothing is lost. The sentence just - and there it is again - the sentence stands up straighter without it. And so, it turns out, do I.