Let us begin with a confession: I do not know what “6-7” means. And that, dear reader, is precisely the point.
In a year already saturated with algorithmic absurdity, Dictionary.com, the Internet's arbiter of English lexicon, anointed “6-7” - yes, the numbers - as its Word of the Year for 2025. Not “sixty-seven”, mind you. That would be far too sensible. It's “six-seven”, often uttered with a deadpan shrug and a hand gesture resembling a confused mime weighing invisible fruit. It's the linguistic equivalent of a raised eyebrow and a half-hearted “meh”. And it's everywhere.
An Inside Joke
For generations raised on context, structure, and definite articles, the selection was an act of linguistic surrender. For Generation Alpha, however, it was a perfectly meaningless, and, therefore, perfectly meaningful, victory. The viral term is not a word, and that is precisely the point. Ask a Gen Alpha child what “6-7” means, and you'll likely get a smirk, a shrug, and the gesture. It's used as a reply to almost anything, from “How was your test?” to “what do you want for lunch?” It's a reminder that language is not just about meaning - it's about belonging. “6-7” may fade by next spring, replaced by whatever Skrilla or some other musical phenomenon dreams up next. But for now, it's a testament to the strange, silly, and spectacular ways humans use language to play, bond, and baffle.
The term's origin story is a delightfully chaotic blend of the sublime and the absurd. It emerged onto the global stage via rapper Skrilla's 2024 track, ‘Doot Doot (6 7)'. In it, Skrilla drops the line “6-7” with such cryptic conviction that fans began speculating wildly: was it a reference to the crime-ridden 67th Street in his hometown, Philadelphia? A coded nod to transformation (“negative to positive”, Skrilla later mused)? Or just a catchy numerical hiccup?
A Low-Effort Punchline
Whatever its intended meaning, TikTok did what social media does best: it turned ambiguity into virality. “6-7” quickly fused with the world of professional basketball. The term became intrinsically linked to 6'7” NBA star LaMelo Ball, mouthing the lyrics while the song played, which became the spark, gaining immediate visual and numerical context. From there, it was turbocharged by the "67 Kid", a child whose enthusiastic shouting and accompanying palms-up, see-sawing hand gesture became a foundational meme. From there, the phrase metastasized into school corridors, sports broadcasts, and social media feeds like a linguistic fungus. “6-7” functions as a linguistic shrug, an interjection, or a universal, low-effort punchline.
It's not a word. It's not a number. It's a vibe, a mood, a generational wink, a Gen-Alpha inside joke. Much like “skibidi” before it, which for a couple of years held the world in its porcelain grip, “6-7” is a triumph of nonsense over nuance. Like its nonsensical predecessor, which arose from animated, camera-headed protagonists battling singing toilets, “6-7” thrives on the detachment of sound from sense. It is "brainrot" by definition, yet its very absurdity becomes its greatest strength. It is a contagion of common terms in social interactions, a sonic trigger that bypasses the cerebral cortex and goes straight to the shared juvenile funny bone.
So “6-7” is everywhere around us. And what does the inescapable, yet ephemeral, popularity of “6-7” really tell us about our current moment?
"6-7" Is A Blank Canvas
Language is increasingly performative: “6-7” is not spoken so much as enacted. It's gesture, tone, timing, a theatrical shrug in two numbers and three syllables. The less a word means, the more meanings we can project onto it. “6-7” is a blank canvas for irony, indifference, or exuberance. Creativity thrives in ambiguity. Who knew that two digits could become a cultural phenomenon? “6-7” reminds us that numbers, stripped of arithmetic, can be symbols, jokes, even social glue. Numeracy is cool again.
At the same time, “6-7” has caught on worldwide, From Michigan classrooms to Malaysian boat races, the phrase has leapt across borders. English, as the lingua franca of meme culture, provides the scaffolding for such viral expressions. Globalisation breeds shared absurdity. In the age of infinite scroll, what spreads is what sticks - not because it's profound, but because it's repeatable, remixable, and ridiculous. And yet, it's being banned in classrooms for disrupting lessons. Teachers report outbreaks of “six!” followed by choruses of “seven!” - a call-and-response ritual that leaves adults bewildered and children delighted.
Are You One Of Them?
For older generations, “6-7” is baffling. This is the essence of the generational inside joke: a shared code that excludes the uninitiated. Perhaps the most compelling sociological function of “6-7” is its role as a generational identifier. It is the perfect, low-stakes generational "inside joke". It creates instant solidarity among users, serving as a shibboleth that immediately separates the "in-group" (those who get it) from the perpetually perplexed "out-group" (anyone over the age of 25). “6-7” is solidarity in syllables. It's the linguistic equivalent of a secret handshake - one that says, “We get it. You don't. And that's okay.”
The term is a masterpiece of linguistic efficiency. It utilises the global standard of the numerical system to create a uniquely Anglo-centric, yet universally translatable, in-joke. It demonstrates that linguistic creativity no longer relies on coining or inventing new words, but on re-contextualisation. Numeracy is not important here for its mathematical value, but for its ubiquity. The numbers six and seven are inescapable in clocks, calendars, and sports scores, offering Gen Alpha infinite opportunities for playful disruption.
If You Don't Understand...
The spread of "6-7" is a textbook example of digital globalisation. The American hip-hop and NBA ecosystems, which normally should mean little in India or Indonesia, provide the foundational content, which is then amplified by US-dominated social media platforms. The term leaps oceans, classrooms, and languages, affirming English's role not just as a tool of commerce or diplomacy, but as the primary conduit for global algorithmic humour. An Australian child shouting "six-seven" in Sydney is not making a regional joke, but participating in a coordinated, planetary experience.
The generation gap today is thus defined not by profound ideological differences, but by sheer incomprehension. When an adult asks, "What does it mean?" and the child replies, "6-7", the child hasn't failed to communicate; they have succeeded at the highest level. They have used language to assert their independence, their algorithmic literacy, and their collective resistance to defined meaning. They are flexing their linguistic muscles, not by innovating syntax, but by reducing semantics to zero.
...The Joke May Be On You
The term may vanish in six or seven months, replaced by some equally baffling sequence of sounds or symbols. But for now, “6-7” stands tall as a six-foot-seven monument to the beautiful, baffling, and yes, brain-rotted state of modern communication. We may not know what it means, but we know it's a phenomenon.
So next time someone asks you how you're doing, try replying with a straight face and a gentle hand wobble: “6-7”. If they laugh, you're in. If they frown, you've just widened the gap - and deepened the mystery.
(Shashi Tharoor has been a Member of Parliament from Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala, since 2009. He is an author and a former diplomat)
Disclaimer: These are the personal opinions of the author
