Language Mirrors Life: Rage Bait, Gen Z, and Oxford’s Word of the Year
The words that define us: Oxford English Dictionary English Editor, Fiona McPherson, on Rage Bait, Gen Z, and the evolution of Oxford’s Word of the Year
Each year, when Oxford University Press announces its Word of the Year, the world pauses for a moment to reflect on what that single expression reveals about our lives. Behind this cultural ritual sits Fiona McPherson, Executive Editor at Oxford University Press, who has spent more than two decades watching language shift, stretch and reinvent itself in response to the world around us. Speaking exclusively to DC, she opens up about the process, the patterns, the public vote, and why “rage bait” captured the mood of 2025.
For many, the Oxford Word of the Year appears almost like magic: one neat, definitive term that somehow sums up twelve months of chaos, change and conversation. But the work behind it is far from spontaneous. As McPherson explains, “Word of the Year isn’t something we think about all year round… but given the job that we do, we are always aware of words we maybe haven’t heard so often.” It’s around September, she says, that the real work begins. That’s when the team turns to its extensive corpora—vast databases of written and spoken material, to study which words have seen a significant increase in usage over the past year.
Sometimes the shortlisted words are entirely new; other times they are familiar expressions that suddenly spike in relevance. But the key requirement remains constant. “We look to see if they are telling us something about the year we have just had,” McPherson says. Only then does a word make it onto the shortlist—after which the public takes over. “We put it out to the public to have their say… once we open it up to the public vote, really it’s up to the people.”
This year, it was “rage bait” that left the others far behind. In a digital world overflowing with provocation, quick outrage, and algorithm-driven emotional spikes, the term felt instantly recognisable to millions. McPherson notes that its rise was visible well before the voting began. “Rage bait had a threefold increase in usage over the last year, which is quite significant,” she explains. “It captured the imagination of the public… it was the clear winner.”
Fiona McPherson, Executive Editor at Oxford University Press
Its runaway success says something revealing about the culture we inhabit—a world where anger is a currency and reactions are engineered. “Most of us spend a significant amount of our lives online,” she says. “Provocative news stories and social media posts are increasingly visible… and rage bait comes with a cynical manipulation behind it.” What struck her most was that people not only recognise this manipulation, they also recognise their own vulnerability to it. “We probably realise when we are getting drawn into it,” she says. “The rise in usage is because we are talking about what we experience.”
The campaign itself has evolved dramatically over its 21-year history. The early years saw words like “podcast” and “selfie,” each marking technological shifts that reshaped behaviour. Today, the methodology is more advanced, and the audience is more participatory. “The ways we analyse language have become more sophisticated,” McPherson points out. “We are much more able to look at large amounts of text in finer detail.” But the evolution isn’t just technological. The expectations of the public have changed too.
The modern audience doesn’t just read; it interacts. So Oxford University Press shifted alongside it. “The world’s a more interactive place,” she says. “People like to see things in action, hear people talk about it, and interact themselves.” This year, videos accompanied the campaign, designed to “inject some fun” and mirror the way people consume content today. The data remains the foundation, but the presentation now reflects a world shaped by reels, shorts, livestreams and loops.
The last two years have also shown a rise in expressions that point to digital fatigue and emotional overload, especially among younger generations. Last year’s “brain rot” was a distinctly Gen Z term—a wry acknowledgement of content overload. McPherson sees these expressions as a sign of growing awareness, not doom. “They highlight the more negative side of online life,” she says, “but their use shows awareness of the harm. Younger generations definitely know the difference between what is brain rot and what isn’t.”
In that sense, language becomes a coping mechanism—naming a behaviour becomes the first step in recognising, and then resisting, it. Even a pessimistic-sounding term like “rage bait” reveals a kind of emotional literacy. People aren’t just succumbing to provocation; they are calling it out.
Looking ahead to 2026, McPherson is cautious about predicting trends. “Language adapts really quickly to changes in society,” she says. “It’s easy to get it wrong.” But she does see broad patterns continuing. Expressions around AI are likely to grow, both technical terms and words that describe how people feel about the spread of artificial intelligence in everyday life. Vocabulary around digital experiences will evolve too. As she puts it, “I can’t see that disappearing.”
And yet, unpredictability remains part of the journey. The pandemic, she reminds us, reshaped vocabulary overnight—ordinary words suddenly carried new meanings. Something unexpected could easily challenge the dominant narratives again.
For now, though, “rage bait” stands as a snapshot of 2025—a year where our screens demanded reactions, our feeds amplified outrage, and our collective consciousness learned to name the very thing pulling at our emotions. As McPherson says, “We are talking about what we experience.” And in talking, we understand ourselves a little more clearly.