At Cornell, summer is not a time to relax; it is a measure of how successful your internship search was during the previous academic year. Having an internship, research lined up or a passion project you are pursuing is the rule, not the exception. With that boulder weighing down on you, the concept of doing nothing –– or, in all actuality, enjoying your summer — feels horrifying. In an environment that pushes us to our limits, a self-deprecating term has become ingrained in the lingo of many Cornellians: “chud.”
The term, in today’s vernacular, encapsulates a lack of direction and productivity — being stagnant and stuck where one is at. A Cornellian without an internship can use the word “chud” to describe how they feel, allowing them to make fun of themselves before anyone else can. The humor is intentional and can turn what is often viewed as a failure at this school into an ironic and self-aware bit.
The word “chud” has a long history before it could be used to describe a student at Cornell. Its origin dates back to C.H.U.D., a low-budget 1984 creature feature. In the film C.H.U.D., the acronym stands for “cannibalistic humanoid underground dweller,” referring to a small army of radioactive mutant beings living in the sewers beneath New York City. The film, which I spent 1 hour and 36 minutes of my weekend watching, is brutally dull. The film follows a series of disappearances in the city that are traced back to these underground dwellers. The C.H.U.D.s are subsequently revealed to be the direct result of a government official using the city’s underground for “contamination hazard urban disposal,” which also serves as the acronym C.H.U.D., featuring some incredible wordplay from the writer, Parnell Hall.
The C.H.U.D.s reflect urban rot in American cities, which I highly doubt Hall thought much about when writing this film; however, I will allow him to claim this metaphor. The cultural impact of C.H.U.D. was non-existent for decades. The film’s pacing is troubling, its characters are laughably bad and the main conflict, the C.H.U.D.s, is left unresolved by the end of the film. The film was classic ’80s forgotten media until the Chapo Trap House podcast first spoke the word “chud,” resurrecting the 1984 film from its grave. However, to the Chapo Trap House, “chud” was no longer a cannibalistic humanoid underground dweller; instead, it was used to refer to members of the alt-right movement.
Now untethered from its origins in the sewers beneath New York City, “chud” had found new legs as a term for a certain type of person. The shift seen in the word “chud” is not a unique phenomenon, as much of modern slang is appropriated from other meanings. Words with specific meanings are expanded upon until their new use becomes the definition, with the original meaning of the word being rendered secondary. In these cases, especially for the term “chud,” the word becomes less about describing something exact and more about describing a feeling.
This linguistic drift away from original meanings represents an overall trend in how language is evolving. As online communication spaces have become more prominent, words that display attitude and tone are needed to convey a meaning that is more easily understood verbally. A term like “chud” is effective since it can be a state of mind, a situation one finds oneself in or as a political insult in which it was originally appropriated to be by the Chapo Trap House.
In chud’s case, the function of the word has become primarily ironic. It is less often used to distance oneself from the target of the word and instead is more often used to describe one’s own position. Using “chud” as a lazy descriptor provides brevity, not dwelling on one’s lack of productivity. It encapsulates the situation in a layer of irony, protecting oneself from criticism and softening the overall blow of how devastating one’s circumstances may be.
At Cornell, that irony is all the more necessary. There exists an expectation to perform well on every preliminary exam, have an internship lined up for the summer and have every professor eager to write you a letter of recommendation. So, when conversations inevitably arise pertaining to these subjects, having the ability to lighten the burden of the situation through one’s vocabulary is important. These topics are going to be addressed, but being able to do so in a comedic way can make the absence of an internship, good prelim grade or professor that loves you much more tolerable.
Signaling one’s awareness of the situation through the use of “chud” works as the perfect framing device. One can indirectly acknowledge their shortcomings, not having to justify how they came to be or what it will mean for them moving forward. The word is meant to signal self-awareness, and that’s where it is most impactful. Rather than allowing others to interpret a situation and judge oneself, a person can control the perception of their situation by simply using a single word to set the tone.
An evolution that began with cannibalistic humanoid underground dwellers before becoming an insult to the alt-right has now settled as a tone-setting, self-aware descriptor of one’s situation. The linguistic drift of “chud” shows the ability for younger generations to be less serious, while at the same time more aware and controlling of their image. The evolution of “chud” reflects the mounting expectations placed on youth, which lead to the ingenuity to coin an ironic word for self-deprecating humor. So if someone asks you what you have lined up for the summer and you’ve got nothing, at least you have the word to lighten the mood.
Brayden Rogers is a member of the Class of 2028 in the College of Arts and Sciences. He is a columnist for the Arts & Culture department and can be reached at brogers@cornellsun.com.
