As more people read my writing, more questions come my way. Some are curious. Some practical. Some thought-provoking. One question I’ve heard a few times is:

Why do you use the em-dash in your writing?

For those unfamiliar with dashes, there are three kinds:

  • Small: the hyphen (-)
  • Medium: the en-dash (–)
  • Large: the em-dash (—)

The em-dash, is currently terrorizing writers across the world. The reason is simple: AI-generated text uses it frequently. As a result, if you use em-dashes in your writing, your work can get labelled as AI-generated.

That makes me pause.

Does a tool lose its legitimacy or usefulness merely because it has been widely adopted or misused elsewhere? (And no, I’m not suggesting that AI-generated content is inherently problematic. It serves its purpose.)

The Swastik was a sacred symbol of Indian culture, centuries before Hitler turned it into an emblem associated with one of history’s worst atrocities. That transformation didn’t erase its original meaning or purity. Indians didn’t abandon the Swastik—and shouldn’t have had to.

In much the same way, why should a writer abandon a stylistic choice simply because it reminds people of AI? The world isn’t binary. Almost everything can be applied thoughtfully or carelessly, with depth or without it. Association alone doesn’t make tool a good or bad. Discomfort alone doesn’t determine value.

Just because a technique is widely imitated or poorly applied, doesn’t strip it of its usefulness. And just because a few people dislike a particular choice doesn’t make that choice flawed. Sometimes, doing things your way is reason enough.

Style isn’t a rulebook. It’s a signature. Clear thinking requires resisting easy labels. It asks us to separate tools from trends, intent from imitation and meaning from association. The moment we stop examining context or purpose, and start reacting to surface cues, we lose nuance. And nuance, more than conformity, is what good writing and good thinking depends on.

So I’ll keep using the em-dash—not as a statement, but because it serves my thinking. Writing, for me, is thinking. It’s about precision and rhythm, and when a tool helps me do that, I see no reason to give it up.



Leave a Reply