It ain’t over til it’s over!

The word “ain’t” is one of the most stigmatized word in the history of the English language. The contraction- a shortened form of “are not” -has been widely in use since the 1700s, evolving from a previous form “an’t”.

In the ensuing centuries “ain’t” has undergone an opera of transformations in its social perception, from being a formal construction, to being an aristocratic term to then being deemed a mere colloquialism associated with lower-class or uneducated individuals. Although it has been variously perceived as being distributed along strict divides, this has never actually been the case. In the early 1900s “ain’t” was considered a proper construction, and “aren’t” was deemed a far worse form. While grammar books from the same time period extol “ain’t” as a vulgarism in dire need of correction.

“Ain’t” has even become a cultural signifier of masculinity and sexuality, with some perceiving it as a marker of rugged unpretentiousness. It can be seen as a linguistic way to assert a heteronormative identity or to distance oneself from perceived feminine or queer characteristics. This is evident in Thomas Berger’s novel The Feud, where a high school student named Tony is concerned that using “aren’t” instead of “ain’t” might make him appear effeminate or even gay.

What’s interesting is that “ain’t” is actually formed by the same process as its “proper” variant “aren’t”. Both words are contractions of “is not” or “are not”, but while “aren’t” is widely accepted as standard English, “ain’t” is viewed as non-standard and often simply incorrect. This dichotomy highlights the arbitrary nature of linguistic norms and the ways in which social and cultural factors can influence our perceptions of language.

Even if “aren’t” were somehow a superior word form (which it ain’t), criticisms of “ain’t” would still be hypocritical, as they are not uniformly applied to other contractions. Non-standard contractions exist everywhere in the English language. Many speakers contract the verbal structure” would have” variously to “I’d’ve”, “they’d’ve” and “we’d’ve” but this does not receive nearly the same amount of ire as “ain’t”. In American English, for example, the phrase “I am going to ” can be contracted to “I’m gonna” ,”I’m’nna” and “I’mma” depending on mood and communicative need.

Everywhere you look there are verbal contractions: English speakers have been slicing, dicing and shortening verbal structures for as long as there are written records. For example, Ben Jonson used “dasn’t” in 1633, a contracted form of “dare not”, and in 1618 Barten Holyday used “am’n’t”, a contracted form of “am not” both of which are still in use across the Anglosphere today.

Old English was also no stranger to contracted verbal forms, with ne is (“is not”) becoming nis, ne wolde (“would not”) becoming nolde, and ne haefde (“did not have”) transforming into naefde. (See the last word of line 6 in the following image).

So why is it that we are stuck on “ain’t”? Why will someone who says “I ain’t going” be possibly judged for their lack of proper grammar, but if that same person says “I’m not going”, their use of a contraction is not similarly criticized? Moreover, why have we not been equally up in arms about the word “bain’t” – a frankly delightful contraction of “be not”?

That’s because, friends, the issue was never about “ain’t” itself, but rather about the classist, exclusionary, and hierarchical forces that use language to reinforce social divisions and maintain cultural privilege.