The Totally Radical Evolution of Using 'Like' as a Discourse Marker

In 1982, 14-year-old Moon Unit Zappa and her father Frank released a song called 'Valley Girl' that captured the essence of a materialistic teen hunting for 'bitchin' clothes' and boyfriends in California's malls.

'Like, oh my God!' Moon exclaims. 'Like, totally!'

Once thought to be a regional quirk of the San Fernando Valley, the use of 'like' quickly spread across the English-speaking world. What once seemed like a parody in the Zappas' song now appears more like an accurate prediction. 'Like' has evolved from a simple preposition to a quotative and discourse marker.

In the first case, it can replace 'they said' when you want to paraphrase someone, as in, 'This guy was, like, give me your number.' In the second case, it serves to emphasize or break up thoughts: 'And then, like, this guy was, like, so upset when I wouldn’t give him my number.'

But, like, how did this even happen?

'Like' Fer Sure

Though Frank Zappa came up with the idea for 'Valley Girl,' asking Moon to come into the studio and 'just babble' in the distinctive 'ValSpeak' voice of her peers, the use of 'like' as a conversational filler actually predates the 1980s and the Zappas by quite a stretch.

Linguist Alexandra D’Arcy explains that some of the earliest documented uses of 'like' date back to the 1700s. In the 1788 novel *Evelina*, for instance, Frances Burney writes, 'Father grew quite uneasy, like, for fear of his Lordship’s taking offence.'

'Like' also appeared in Robert Louis Stevenson’s 1886 novel *Kidnapped* (‘What’s like wrong with him?’) and can be found in Jack Kerouac’s 1957 *On the Road*, where the author expresses a reluctance to ‘being all hung up on like literary inhibitions.’

‘The word ‘like’ has a superpower; it’s capable of performing almost every role in the English language,’ D’Arcy said in 2018. ‘I can’t think of another word that behaves in that way. No other word has such versatility.’

Although 'like' is often associated with teens, it wasn't always the case. D'Arcy discovered an instance of a 73-year-old man born in 1875 who said, 'You'd never believe Pig Route. Like, you'd need to see the road to believe it.'

For many years, 'like' was firmly in the discourse marker camp, alongside words like 'so' and 'indeed,' acting as a signal to the listener that something important was about to be said or summarized. (Like that incredible Pig Route.) It also helped segment conversations, signaling to both the speaker and listener that a new topic was being explored. It could be a hedge—a way to express uncertainty. (‘I guess the movie was, like, OK.’) And it could be filler. (‘So, where do you, like, want to go later?’)

But it was in the 20th century that 'like' gained a new meaning—one that would significantly alter the English language.

The 1980s

When the Zappas’ song hit the scene, teenagers were eager to adopt *like* as a regional quirk and make it their own, using it as a way to distinguish themselves from the ‘grody’ adults. They quickly made it a quotative tool, enabling them to paraphrase their own thoughts or others’ words. *Like* joined other iconic ‘80s slang such as *totally*, *awesome*, *tenacious*, *mega*, *to the max*, and pretty much anything that could be shouted near a mall fountain while wearing leg warmers.

“Any subculture will develop its own exclusive language,” Carl Bode, an English professor at the University of Maryland, told The Washington Post in 1983, as the country tried to understand this bizarre new dialect. “In the government, they use ‘indicate’—why don’t they just say ‘said’? Then you realize that in government reports, ‘indicate’ is vague, while ‘said’ is much clearer and easier to understand.”

*Like* is commonly inserted where traditional quotative verbs (*say*, *ask*, *tell*) are usually found. However, the meanings aren’t the same. For instance, if you say, 'John said he was going to murder me,' the listener assumes John directly uttered those words. But if you say, 'John was, like, I’m going to murder you,' the listener will likely understand it as a paraphrase, picturing John’s attitude, tone, or posture rather than his exact words.

However, the rise of *like* in association with the superficiality of the Valley had a downside: It became linked to a perceived lack of intelligence or depth, especially when overused, turning a once-useful linguistic tool into an annoying crutch.

History shows this isn’t a new criticism: In 1909, the writer Ambrose Bierce chastised those using the word *well*, describing it as 'a meaningless prelude to a sentence.' Indeed, unnecessary words have long been frowned upon in certain circles.

So why has *like* persisted despite such criticism, while *totally* has not? Writing for the *Los Angeles Times* in 1992, author Malcolm Gladwell suggested that reworking *like* marked 'a development of potentially huge significance in the centuries-long evolution of the English language.'

*Like* allows for quoting—without quoting—another person, offering meaning but not precision, and lending an air of immediacy. It can express someone's thoughts. ('I was like, I can't believe this is happening!') It can be performative, capturing attitudes in the present, making things feel more urgent. ('She was like, I gotta run!') It can also emphasize meaning, drawing the listener’s focus to crucial information. *Like* acts like a siren call: *Listen closely, this is important!*

*Like* can also carry subtle meanings. Asking, 'Would you, like, want to go out?' suggests a touch of shyness, while 'Do you, like, think we should adopt this dog?' could hint at uncertainty or doubt.

The way *like* is used can sometimes vary by gender. Observations suggest that women often use *like* as a quotative, while men tend to use it as a connector when describing something. However, it’s clear that *like* has far surpassed its association with adolescents or gender-specific speech patterns. Even language enthusiasts likely incorporate *like* into their speech when making proposals: 'I dunno, like three o’clock?' or 'This is, like, not how I imagined my day going.'

*Like* endures due to its adaptability, spanning a range of meanings that few words in the English language can match. Despite once being seen as a favorite among West Coast airheads, *like* proves to be surprisingly, well, intelligent.

A previous version of this article stated that Jack Kerouac's *On the Road* was published in 1969; this story has been updated to correct that error.