Real Writers Shouldn’t Ditch The Em Dash Just Because AI Uses It
The em dash, once a celebrated punctuation mark cherished for its dramatic and rhythmic effect, has recently come under scrutiny as a supposed sign of AI-generated writing. Critics on social media have labeled its use as a “dead giveaway” that texts or articles were written by AI tools like ChatGPT or Gemini. However, this view overlooks the em dash’s rich literary history, embraced by renowned authors such as Mark Twain, Joan didion, and the Brontë sisters long before AI existed. The em dash’s distinctive style is a human invention, passed down through centuries of writing, which AI has merely learned from.
This suspicion reflects broader anxieties about authenticity and trust in an era where digital content and human voices blur. Some users mock the idea that AI-produced texts must contain em dashes, while others defend it as a legitimate stylistic choice embraced by skilled writers. Critics argue that blaming punctuation for AI’s rise is illogical and lazy, noting that AI replicates patterns taught by humans, not invents them. The real concern lies in fearing the erosion of genuine human expression-not the punctuation itself.
Writers and commentators are pushing back against this style shaming, urging readers and editors to appreciate the em dash’s versatility as a valuable rhetorical tool rather than suspecting it as a sign of automation. Ultimately, surrendering this punctuation to AI paranoia risks losing nuance and variety in writing, ceding linguistic power to the least discerning voices. The call is to stand firm in preserving stylistic freedom and good writing, even in a world increasingly wary of AI influence.
Once a beloved mark of drama and rhythm, the em dash is now under suspicion. Is it human flair or a dead giveaway that ChatGPT ghostwrote your op-ed? Or worse, Gemini? Some treat this elongated dash like it’s the literary mark of the beast. But here’s the twist: The machines didn’t invent the em dash. We did.
Yes, we the people — specifically the grammatically adventurous among us — have been dashing across sentences for centuries. Writers from Buckley to Baldwin and Brontë to Didion embraced its expressive rhythm. Even Mark Twain deployed the em dash with comic precision. And now, somehow, it’s been labeled synthetic, suspect, even sinister, just because OpenAI knows how to use it.
In just 24 hours, one viral post on the subject racked up more than 9 million views. It showed a breakup text containing an em dash, captioned: “When she sends you a breakup text and you see this…”
Some replies were quick to mock. One joked, “Claude is giving you the bad news.” Another lamented, “People really go to ChatGPT to write breakup texts? Bro, that’s supposed to come from the heart.”
But a majority pushed back. A user named Sam Adams nailed the absurdity of it all: “You can tell the world is getting stupider when they’re trying to gaslight each other into believing anyone smart has to be AI.” Another, Sneha Sharma, added a gentle reminder: “Good copywriters and storytellers use that in their tweets. Don’t let internet world convince you otherwise.”
Despite its long literary record, this punctuation mark is now eyed like it’s a backdoor to Skynet. Let’s talk about what it actually is and why blaming it for AI’s rise is like blaming semicolons for liberalism.
The em dash got its name because it’s roughly the width of the letter “M” in traditional typesetting. It was a printer’s flourish — a visual pause more elegant than a comma and less rigid than a colon. Its versatility is precisely why it’s beloved by stylists and authors alike. Before it was accused of being AI-coded, it was just good writing.
In this age of algorithmic paranoia, even seasoned writers and editors have grown suspicious of style itself. The em dash, once a harmless tool of tone and timing, is now treated like a defendant in a British courtroom: presumed guilty until proven innocent.
But if every crisp sentence and stylistic flourish is now suspect, we may as well go back to grunting in caves. Or worse: reading Reddit threads.
Let’s be honest. The fear isn’t really about the elongated dash. It’s about the loss of trust. We don’t know who’s real anymore. Influencers are filtered. News is manipulated. And now our favorite pundit’s latest hot take might have been drafted by a bot. It’s unsettling.
Richard Frey’s recent essay, “AI and the Em Dash Shibboleth,” dismantles the logic of using punctuation as a cultural litmus test. His conclusion? Treating a single stylistic choice as evidence of machine authorship is not only flawed — it’s lazy.
If anything, the em dash should be celebrated, not exiled to the AI gulag.
And here’s the kicker: AI writes how we taught it to write. If ChatGPT loves an em dash, it’s because it has read thousands of articles written by humans who did too. We didn’t inherit this from the robots; they inherited it from us. Holding it hostage over AI paranoia is like banning forks because they were machine-cut.
Writers across the spectrum are pushing back. In McSweeney’s, Greg Mania comically lets the em dash defend itself as “the OG vibe shift,” noting Mary Shelley and Emily Dickinson used it long before Gemini. John Paul Canonigo traces the em dash’s rise in digital media and argues that what we’re seeing isn’t AI, but centuries of human influence baked into the tools we use today.
The real danger isn’t that AI can imitate our punctuation. It’s that we let fear dilute our voice. Writers, especially those aiming to make a cultural splash, need every tool in the rhetorical shed. That includes commas, semicolons, sarcasm, metaphors, and, yes, the em dash. Every good story needs rhythm. Every voice needs range. And every sentence deserves the freedom to dash.
To the grammar-watchers, AI-phobic, and eagle-eyed editors of the world: Don’t be swayed by the social media narrative. Use it if it fits. Skip it if it doesn’t. But don’t surrender good writing to bad assumptions.
Because if we cave to this kind of style-shaming, we’re not just losing a punctuation mark — we’re handing the keys of language to the loudest and least literary-savvy among us. The same people who rewrite Wikipedia at 2 a.m. and call it a “butterfly effect” when they get caught.
Will you stand on this hill with me — or surrender ground to the social media mob, one punctuation mark at a time?
Courtney G. Scott is a writer and speech-language pathologist who currently resides in Alabama with her husband and son. Follow her on X at @musings_blonde.
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