The Word I’m Trying to Banish
Spoiler: It’s Not "Should"
Thursday night I pulled an older dress out of the closet to wear to a school fundraiser. It wasn’t groundbreaking—just simple, long green dress with a few boho-style flowers on it, and some off the shoulder action. I walked into the kitchen, gave my daughter a twirl, and asked what she thought.
She looked me up and down and said, “I actually like this one.”
I paused. Smiled and then made a face.
Not a big face. Just a subtle, emotionally complex twitch of the mouth—the kind that mothers make when something stings but we don’t want to make it a whole thing.
Twenty minutes later, as we were settling into our nighttime routine, she asked, “Why did you look sad earlier?”
I laughed. “You said you actually liked my dress.”
“Yeah?” she said.
“Which made me think you’ve been pretending to like all the others. Or that they’re terrible and this one is finally passable.”
She was quiet for a second and then said, “Oh. I didn’t mean that.”
But of course, she didn’t mean it that way. That’s the trouble with actually. It slips into sentences like it’s doing us a favor—like it’s adding clarity or enthusiasm. But more often than not, it’s doing something else entirely.
The Hidden Subtext of "Actually"
When we use actually in feedback, it carries an invisible backpack of judgment. Think about these:
“I actually agree with your point.”
“This part actually makes sense.”
“You’re actually a good facilitator.”
Each of these implies a silent “…which is surprising because I expected otherwise.”
In coaching, leadership, teaching—or just parenting—this one word can undo our best intentions. It says:
I underestimated you.
You usually don’t get it right.
This is the exception, not the rule.
While we might mean it as a compliment, it often feels like someone put a smiley face sticker on a rejection letter.
Why Do We Use It?
Actually is often a linguistic crutch we lean on when we’re caught off guard by something positive.
It’s like our brains can’t handle being impressed without first processing our own disbelief.
So we buffer. We soften. We signal our surprise instead of simply honoring the moment.
But here’s the thing: when someone does something well—when they improve, grow, or surprise us—our surprise isn’t the headline. Their success is.
Better Ways to Say It
If you find yourself wanting to say actually, pause. Ask: Am I expressing appreciation or highlighting my own bias?
Here are some alternatives that honor the person, not your previous assumptions:
“This part is really strong.”
“I love how you clarified that idea.”
“This shows your growth.”
“You nailed it.”
Or just:
“I like this one.”
No qualifiers. No backstory. Just trust that your words don’t need to explain your surprise to be valid.
Why It Matters
Eliminating actually from my feedback is about more than grammar. It’s about respect. It’s about giving people the dignity of improvement without dragging their past performance into the room.
Yes, it’s about dresses, too. Because if I’ve learned anything from that fundraiser night, it’s that even an offhand comment can linger—especially when it comes from someone whose opinion really matters.
Growth doesn’t need to be surprising to be celebrated.
Super important piece here! Thank you for the practical suggestions too.