I have written fairly often on the importance of words. Words matter and most of us could be a little more thoughtful when choosing the words that we use. Our words shape how we think, feel, and connect with others. Words carry weight, subtly influencing conversations and relationships. One word that often sneaks into our sentences, quietly undermining our intentions, is “but.” It’s a small word, just three letters, yet it has a big impact. I believe we should rethink its use—not because it’s inherently bad, but because it often creates barriers where we could build bridges instead.

Let’s start with what “but” does. It’s a conjunction, a pivot point in a sentence. When we say, “I love you, but…” or “That’s a great idea, but…,” everything before the “but” gets overshadowed and frequently forgotten. The listener braces for the negative, and the positive sentiment feels like a setup rather than a standalone truth. Imagine someone saying, “You did a fantastic job on this project, but there’s room for improvement.” The praise evaporates, and the critique takes center stage. Without “but,” the same message could stand as two clear statements: “You did a fantastic job on this project. There’s room for improvement.” Both parts survive, neither diminished.

This isn’t just semantics—it’s psychology. Studies show that people tend to focus on what follows “but” because it signals contrast or contradiction. The brain latches onto the exception, not the rule. When we use “but,” we unintentionally train others to expect disappointment or dismissal, even if that’s not our goal. Over time, this erodes trust. Think about a friend who always softens criticism with a compliment: “You’re so smart, but you’re too quiet.” Eventually, you stop hearing the compliment and start waiting for the sting.

Now, I’m not suggesting we ban “but” entirely. It has its place in logic and debate, where contrasting ideas need a clear marker. “The sky is blue, but it turns orange at sunset” works because it’s a factual shift, not a loaded judgment. The trouble comes in emotional or relational contexts, where “but” feels like a rejection pretending to be balanced. We use it to soften blows or hedge our bets, but it often backfires, leaving the other person defensive or deflated.

So, what’s the alternative? Words like “and” or “also” can transform a sentence. “I appreciate your effort, and we can tweak a few things” keeps the tone collaborative. It’s not about sugarcoating—it’s about clarity. Separating ideas into distinct sentences works too: “I value your input. Let’s adjust the timeline.” These shifts preserve the integrity of both thoughts without pitting them against each other. It’s a small change with a big ripple effect, fostering openness instead of opposition.

Critics might argue that avoiding “but” makes us less direct, even wishy-washy. I get that. Straight talk matters, especially when stakes are high. Yet directness doesn’t require “but” as a crutch. “This plan won’t work because it’s underfunded” is sharper and cleaner than “This plan is solid, but it’s underfunded.” The former owns the critique; the latter muddies it with faint praise. Dropping “but” forces us to say what we mean without hiding behind qualifiers.

In relationships, the stakes are even higher. “I’m sorry, but you upset me first” doesn’t heal—it deflects. Replace it with “I’m sorry. I felt upset by what happened,” and the apology stands taller, inviting real dialogue. Over time, cutting “but” trains us to own our words and listen better. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about being present.

Language evolves with intent. If we want connection over conflict, we can start by rethinking “but.” It’s not the villain of vocabulary, just a habit we’ve leaned on too long. Swap it out, try different alternatives, and watch how conversations shift. We might find we don’t need it as much as we thought—and that’s a win worth going after.