In Defense Of The Em Dash: An Ode To My Favorite Punctuation Mark

The em dash—long, sleek, dramatically stylish—has been my favorite punctuation mark for years. It’s the punctuation equivalent of a meaningful glance across a room: subtle, sharp, and charged with just enough dramatic tension to keep things interesting. Where commas tiptoe, colons announce, and semicolons nervously hover, the em dash strides in with confidence and just a hint of chaos. It doesn’t ask for permission—it just shows up and rearranges the tone.

Lately, however, the em dash has come under fire. Social media grammar purists and digital curmudgeons have started to accuse the em dash of being overused, lazy, and even—brace yourself—evidence of AI-generated writing. Apparently, no human could possibly favor such a flamboyant, rule-defying line without some algorithmic influence. To which I say: really?

I loved the em dash before it was suspicious. Before, it was trendy. Before, it was algorithm bait.

It’s not that I don’t understand the concerns. Overuse of anything can be exhausting (even I’ll admit there are limits—most of them aesthetic). But dismissing the em dash entirely? That’s like saying violins are too emotional or coffee is too stimulating. The em dash is a tool—and a particularly human one at that. It gives writers space to think in real-time, to shift gears mid-thought, to interrupt themselves with nuance or sarcasm or a sudden dash of sincerity.

What other punctuation mark offers that flexibility without looking like it’s trying too hard? The em dash can carry a parenthetical aside without the fuss of parentheses. It can pivot a sentence into a new rhythm, cut off a thought at the right moment, or lead to an unexpected conclusion. It’s punctuation with personality.

The em dash has long been considered a bit rogue in academic circles—stylish but not always welcome. And yet, some of the best writers (human writers!) have used it significantly. Emily Dickinson adored it—her poems are practically stitched together with em dashes. Zadie Smith uses it. Joan Didion, too. The em dash is the favorite child of those who think fast, feel deeply, and appreciate a sentence that can hold contradiction and clarity.

Is it dramatic? Yes. Is it overused in lousy writing? Also yes. But that’s not the em dash’s fault. That’s like blaming a microphone for bad karaoke.

So I’ll keep using my em dashes—because they’re bold—because they breathe—because they bend language just enough to feel alive—because—well—OK—I see it now. Maybe I’ve gone a little dash-drunk. But I’m not sorry—and neither is the em dash.

—End scene.