Siks Sev-Uhn: The quiet shift in how we speak (#502)

Every generation leaves fingerprints on language.

Some are elegant. Some are clumsy. Some are deeply irritating to anyone over the age of about forty.

And every so often, a word, or in this case, a number, appears that feels less like communication and more like a shared wink.

In 2025, that word was 6-7. Or 67. Or six sev-uhn.

According to the annual Banished Words List from Lake Superior State University, 6-7 has officially been declared cooked,¹ a slang term that itself deserves a place in the museum of linguistic exhaustion. The list, now in its 50th year, exists to gently mock our collective tendency to overuse words until they lose meaning, texture, and dignity.

But 6-7 is different.

It never really had meaning to lose.

A Number Without a Job

Unlike earlier slang, 6-7 doesn’t describe a feeling, an action, or a state of being.

6-7 doesn’t replace a word.

6-7 replaces nothing.

Even Dictionary.com, which crowned it 2025 Word of the Year, admitted that no one - including them - can quite explain what it means.

It’s sound. Rhythm. In-group recognition. A shrug turned into syllables.

And that, more than anything, marks it as generational.

What We Used to Say

If you grew up earlier, your slang at least pretended to do some work:

• Boomers (1946-64) had groovy, far out, right on. Even when vague, they gestured toward approval or enthusiasm.

• Gen X (1965-80) leaned ironic: whatever, no duh, my bad. Language as emotional armor.

• Millennials (1981-96) softened everything: literally, like, I feel like. Words as cushioning.

  
  

• Gen Z (1997-2010) are less interested in explanation. They’re here for vibes.

6-7 belongs squarely to that last category.

It doesn’t clarify. It signals.

Language as an Inside Joke

What unsettles older listeners isn’t that 6-7 is silly.

It’s that it’s closed. You don’t get to infer its meaning from context. You either know, or you don’t. That’s new.

Earlier slang invited imitation.

6-7 invites exclusion.

And yet, when you listen to kids, there’s something refreshingly honest about 6-7. One admits she enjoys saying 6-7 precisely because she doesn’t understand it. Another refuses to say it because he doesn’t find it funny, but doesn’t think it should be banned either.

That ambivalence may be the most modern thing of all.

The Speed of Burnout

Social media accelerates everything: adoption, overuse, and abandonment.

A word that once might have lasted a decade now flames out in months.

The president of Lake Superior State University predicts 6-7 will be gone by the end of 2026.

And he’s probably right.

But something else will replace it.

Something equally opaque. Equally fleeting.

What 6-7 Really Tells Us

6-7 isn’t about numbers. It’s about how language has shifted:

• From meaning to belonging.

• From explanation to recognition.

• From saying something to being seen saying it.

  
  

Every generation thinks the next one is ruining language.

And every generation is wrong in exactly the same way.

Language isn’t decaying. It’s shedding skin.

And if you don’t understand 6-7, that’s okay. You weren’t meant to.

At the end of the day language has always been less about clarity than connection.

Personally, I can’t wait for 6-7 to become a distant memory.

But then I’m a baby boomer!

Baby boomers coined words that have endured.

Aggro, Zilch, Zonked Out, Wannabe, Mellow, Yuppie, Peace Out, Wig Out, Yikes, Male Chauvinist Pig, Gender Gap, Grunge, Bells and Whistles, Brewski, Smart-Ass, Fuckwit, Numbnuts, Knuckle Sandwich, Face-Plant, Roids, Leaf Peeper and Granny Glasses, just to name a few.

These boomer words are far from "cooked!"

1.        In Gen Z ( demographic cohort born between 1997 and 2012) slang, cooked means being extremely tired, overwhelmed, exhausted, or mentally/physically drained, similar to fried or burnt out. Cooked reflects a state of being done or past the limit.

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