I approach the restroom sink to wash my hands, and I get that spine-irking, teeth-cringing feeling of aggravation. A seemingly sweet and obviously oblivious girl says it: “Oh my God, he probably thought I was so retarded,” and without hesitation or guilt, she moves on and continues with her conversation.

I heard it.

I hear it everywhere. I hear it on campus, at the store, at parties, and even in my own house. A word that is so hurtful to so many, a word that has the power to humiliate, stigmatize, and degrade so many people is said everyday, without anyone so much as blinking. The word “retarded,” which for the rest of this column will be referred to as the R-word, is like a bomb being dropped around constantly.

As a person who used to say this word just as much as anyone, I have a new awareness of my previous ignorance. I now grasp that the people who are deeply offended and hurt by hearing this word, are the least deserving of anyone.

I crawled out from my cave of ignorance the summer after my freshmen year of high school. I was a counselor at ReCreation Camp, a week long summer camp for adults with developmental disabilities, and the rock of enlightenment knocked me over the head fast and hard. After spending the week with these amazing, loving, hilarious, and wise people, I quickly came to two dramatic insights: that people are in fact people, and just that; and what I say has profound power.

When the week was over and I came home, I soon realized that the rest of the world was exactly as I left it.

I could barely make it through one family dinner without hearing the previously un-alarming R-word. I did not say anything. I could feel the hypocrisy running through my veins. I used to say it, so who was I to tell other people not to?

One conversation changed it all. This summer, a friend of mine with autism, Tim, told me a story. He was working as a janitor when he overheard a man call another man the R-word. I told him how rude that was, and he looked at me and said “well, yeah, it was rude, but it’s worse when you actually are.”

It was at that moment that my already bleeding heart broke into a million pieces. Although Tim played off the occurrence casually, I knew he was upset. I knew that from that moment on, no matter what I praised in Tim, he would subconsciously use that word to define the way people thought of him. Just hearing the word amplified the stereotype he battles daily. Just hearing the word devastated him.

As a college student, I understand that this is an easy word, which in pop talk covers everything from wasted to clumsy to stupid to incompetent. And I know that people do not say it with the intention of directly insulting someone. I am sure the men in Tim’s building had no idea, and would not have knowingly inflicted so much pain on another person. But they did.

Although other forms of hate speech have been essentially outlawed, including the racially motivated N-word, I challenge us as a society to continue moving forward. I challenge a culture, which boasts of progress and political correctness, and praises the fundamental right of equality, to stop and think about what we are saying.

I propose an era where the beautiful individuality of every person is celebrated. I propose an era where ignorance is no longer bliss. I propose an era of respect.