Offensive words
This is a post I have been meaning to write for the better part of a year. I kept putting it off, but it was always in the back of my head, popping up in the strangest places to teach me new things. Note: I am going to use a lot of offensive terms in this post, because I don’t think it’s really that possible to discuss offensive words — and why they are offensive — without using them.
The idea for the post started when speaking to a white colleague who substituted the term “n-word” for “nigger.” This isn’t anything too wild or out there; it’s a distasteful, offensive, terrible word, and having a personal boundary where you refuse to let it pass your lips is a pretty basic way to cope with its existence. I have gone back and forth on the idea of substituting euphemisms for the word itself. Sometimes I feel like that gives the word more power, treating it like such an important word that it cannot be said. Other times I feel it’s only appropriate, because it is a word with a violent past, and using it too often with inappropriate context is minimizing the historical baggage. But in this case, my colleague explained to me a personal reason for using the euphemism instead of the word. She had adopted African-American children, and had heard the word directed at them too many times to ever bring herself to say it.
That caused me to re-think some of my use of the word. I guess I had still unconsciously been under the assumption that nobody actually said “nigger” anymore. I mean, maybe some creature of the deep deep south — and here I had to realize what a stereotype I had in my head of that kind of person — but surely nobody actually really said “nigger” anymore. I mean, we’re fake post-racial now, which doesn’t mean that racism is gone, not by a long shot, but it does mean that we like to pretend it’s gone, which means not being upfront enough to use blatantly racist terms of a supposedly bygone era.
In my work with families who have adopted African-American children, I’ve often come across the sentiment from parents that they fully expect there will be no racism among the people they know. Obviously, they don’t associate with racists. And I always want to point out (I leave it to my colleagues, who are better at this), how in the hell do you know that? Are all your friends and family white? Do you hang out in almost exclusively white spaces? (The answer, usually, is yes.) So why should you ever assume nobody you know is racist? Living in segregation — some of it voluntary — should be evidence enough that there is some racism around. But if you’ve never seen your brother, your church member, your coworker, your friend, interact with a non-white person, how do you know they’re not racist? Most of these families find out just how racist their friends and family are as soon as they begin being seen in public with a non-white child. And especially once that child grows older, and especially if that child is male, they get an eyeful of what a nasty, seething underbelly the post-racial world has.
Even knowing all that, I still hadn’t applied it as much to my personal life until my colleague talked to me. What reason do I have to think nobody uses the word “nigger” anymore? How often am I in the company of somebody who might be called one? Way to be super fucking privileged, Harriet.
Full disclosure: I have used the word nigger. Not in its created and intended context; that is, I have never used “nigger” as an insult or as a term to designate and identify a class of people. But I have used it in conversations with white people who are pissing me off. Example: In college, waiting for (an all-white) class to begin one day, some students next to me started having a conversation about another class they shared, where a student was pissing them off. This student was: loud, aggressive, arrogant, probably-wrong-about-everything, attention-seeking, angry, and black. Now anybody who’s been in a school setting knows that you do occasionally run into students who drive you up the fucking wall. But anybody who’s been one form of privileged class or another also knows (if you don’t, think on this some) that if that person who drives you up the fucking wall is black/gay/female/feminist/(insert minority label here), their otherness becomes one of the things that drives you up the wall. Instead of being a person who you thinks speaks uncomfortably loud, they become a loud black person, a shrill woman, an in-your-face gay person. Their minority status becomes an integral part of what they do that pisses you off. I’ve done this, you’ve done this; let’s not fuck about.
So these students were having that kind of conversation, about the loud-angry-big-mouthed-black-girl, and inevitably it started to wind its way into a conversation about black people in college, and whether or not they belonged there, as evidenced by this loud-angry-big-mouthed-black-girl. Which inevitably turns into a conversation about “affirmative action, omg, it angers me in some vague way I can’t describe without saying something really racist.” I’ve got complicated views on affirmative action, and whether and how I support it, but I don’t have very complicated views on what white people think about affirmative action. I identify as white. I look white. I was raised white, with the white side of my family. But I’m actually Hispanic. You’d never know it if I didn’t tell you. I feel uncomfortable calling myself Hispanic, because I feel like I’m appropriating a minority identity that I actually have no right to own. I have experienced life wholly as a white person, and feel like it would be really disingenuous and disrespectful to stand up from that life and say, “Okay, guys, I know I have lots of white privilege, but I’m totally not-white now, give me my not-a-white-person badge and my exotic food door prize, and no, my demanding a minority identity has nothing to do with my white privilege and it is so racist of you to say so!.” What I mean to say is, being Hispanic has never been a big part of my life, and I’ve been confused about how to make it one, but it’s also been something that I don’t necessarily reveal to people. But, in college, I found whenever I mentioned I was Hispanic, suddenly affirmative action became a topic. People who had never questioned my academic credentials before, my right to be in college, would suddenly assume, “Ah, so that’s how she got here.” Many of them would say so outright, usually intending to be kind, i.e. “Oh I’m so glad we have affirmative action these days so you could go to college.” So, despite my complicated views on affirmative action that are not necessarily fully in support of it (this is a tangent I’m trying really hard not to get into), I have a massive chip on my shoulder when white people start blathering about it.
So these white kids start in on the affirmative action thing, how that’s obviously the only way this girl got into college, because she’s so loud and angry and all, and loud and angry (black) people wouldn’t be able to get into college unless the government took pity on them. And I turned to the kids and said, “I know! I mean, you and I know niggers don’t belong in college, right, but when the hell will they learn?” Conversation ended right quick.
My reason for pulling that kind of stunt occasionally has been manyfold. When white people start having racist conversations, with racist ideas, while using euphemisms for the racism, I like to step in there and use the word they really mean to use. When white people say “welfare mother,” “ghetto,” “urban,” “affirmative action,” what they really mean is “nigger.” That may not be the word they’re thinking of, but it’s the concept. The image of a person that the word “nigger” was created to imply is what is in their heads. They aren’t talking about people, real people, individual and diverse. They are talking about niggers. And I want to put that out there for them — you don’t get to say “those people” and think nobody knows what you mean. I know what you mean. You know what you mean. And now it’s going to be out on the table, making you insanely uncomfortable.
I expect, most of the time that I’ve done this, my nuanced intention is lost, and the white people think I’m just some insane racist who intruded on their conversation. But I figure, that works for me, too. If you are having the a conversation where the kind of racist who still says and means “nigger” feels comfortable jumping in, then you are a skip and a jump away from the kind of racist who still says and means “nigger” yourself.
I also expect that most of the time, all of this is lost, and the only thing I succeed in doing is shutting down the conversation immediately. That has also been acceptable to me.
But! — and this is a really big but — I would never pull this stunt in front of non-white people. I wouldn’t do it because I know that “nigger” has a distinct meaning and history for non-white people, and because they have been at the vicious end of it for so long, I am more than willing to give up my “right” to say whatever the fuck I want and privilege their right to not be exposed to a form of racist hatred that I, with my life as a white person, cannot understand. Even if I feel like I could totally explain to them, no, no! I didn’t really mean the word “nigger,” you see, it was just my rebellious little social engineering experiment… yeah, that’s still not good enough. If I pursue rebellious little social engineering experiments out of what I profess to be a respect for non-white people and a desire to educate white people on treating them more respectfully, then I can’t very well throw that respect out the window when a non-white person tells me, “What you’re doing is racist and shitty and really bothers me.” I have to listen to and respect that boundary, or have to admit that my little social engineering experiments are really all to make myself feel self-righteous and good.
But my decision to never use the word “nigger” around non-white people rests upon my own privileged and segregated view of the world. I live in a world where I rarely interact with non-white people, and I could really make a better effort at that. But that means I assume that all white people live in that same world, and that all of them need the same education and prodding that I did to start to move into a gradually less privileged worldview. I have not considered the fact that every time I pulled that little “nigger” stunt, there might have been A) a non-white student who appears as white as I do in class, B) a white student with non-white family, C) a white student with non-white friends, or D) a white student who is not as completely segregated as I am. And there is no reason for me to assume, just because somebody is white, that the word “nigger” is going to be any more okay for them than it will be for someone who is not white, and has had to actually experience that word with its created intent. It may not be wholly unrealistic for me to assume that many white people live the kind of segregated lives that I do, but it is an assumption that is based upon maintaining the racism I profess to want to fight against.
Let me put this another way. Many of the families we work with who have adopted African-American children are subject to very rude questions from strangers. How did you get him? Why didn’t his mother want him? Oh, he speaks so well, did you teach him that? Can I touch his hair? Is he yours? Where does he come from? Is he going to play basketball? No, really, I mean where does he come from? How much did he cost? What in the world made you decide to adopt him, instead of, you know, another kind of child?
Families are strange little beasts, and complicated. They come together in all sorts of ways, for all sorts of reasons. I can think of a thousand different ways a person of one race may end up parenting a child of another. And absolutely none of those reasons are any of my goddamn business. Either we are post-racial or we are not. If we are post-racial, nobody should ever wonder how in the hell a family of multiple races came together, because, hey, we’re post-racial, and that’s what post-racial people would do. But if we’re not post-racial, then it is a source of wonder and confusion that people of different races manage to associate with one another somehow, because the world and its people are full of racism that keeps them from forging meaningful bonds with each other. So, either I am committed to anti-racism, and assume that it is possible that the white people around me are capable of forging meaningful bonds with non-white people, or I am getting all kinds of white privilege sacrosanct (i.e. not committed to anti-racism) and I assume that all white people, like me, have no meaningful relationships with anybody who is not white, thus freeing me up to spout off racial epithets for vague reasons that make me feel good about myself.
So I still pull the stunt, but I don’t use the word “nigger” anymore, because there’s plenty of ways to do the same things without using totally offensive words. Such as: two male students who are obvious Bush supporters were one day discussing how totally bullshit it was that people accused Bush of racism when he had hired Condoleeza Rice and all. I said, “A black woman with a job in DC? Hallelujah, freedom done come!” and did a little jig. Or, during a conversation between friends-who-are-no-longer-friends, when affirmative action came up yet a-fucking-gain, and turned into (no kidding), “I heard about a community parenting program, which I think is a really good idea because you know some of those people don’t even know not to hit their kids,” and I responded, “I know! And I’ve heard, you know, that some darkies don’t even know how to read. It’s true!” Or, skirting offensive words territory entirely, I have often responded to racist conversations by saying, “That reminds me of something my ex-husband’s grandmother once said,” and then proceeded to tell the story of some completely fucking racist thing this old woman spouted off. No need to follow-up with, “And that reminded me of this conversation because it is also completely fucking racist.” It just kind of hangs there, unhappily, until the conversation ends.
But I still have a strange relationship with the word “nigger.” It’s taboo, it’s verboten, but it’s so completely present. It’s not supposed to exist anymore, but it does. We’re not supposed to use it, but we think it. It’s old, and derided, and known to be wrong, it’s been appropriated and reclaimed and changed in a thousand ways, and yet it still evinces the kind of power it had when created. That kind of conflict is fascinating to me. I want to know what will become of this word, all its meanings, how we can strip it of this magnificent power to survive and remain offensive and turn it into just another word, and also whether or not that is the worst idea possible. I’ve started reading the book , which is a more academic treatment of the word, and I love to read this book in public for reasons I don’t think I can articulate properly. I like to make white people uncomfortable, seeing a word that isn’t supposed to exist anymore, and seeing it exist in the hands of a white person, and wondering how they are supposed to feel about that. I like to make myself uncomfortable, wondering if somebody will approach me and ask me what I’m reading, and why, and what I will say. I like to put the word out there in public, silently, as if I’m saying, “This shit still exists, and yes we still need to have a big talk about it.” And, I think, at the core of it, I just like to be fucking snarky. That’s not a small factor in the use of offensive words, the personal gratification of being taboo, especially if you are supposedly being taboo for some greater purpose.
This has gotten awfully long! I have other offensive words to discuss. There will be a part two!
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Great post, Harriet. I think your blog is fantastic.
I (white woman) get incandescently uncomfortable and have no clue how to react when my (black woman) friend and neighbour refers to other black people as “niggers”, which she often does. Last week she said, “we niggers are stupid”. I don’t understand that and don’t know how to deal with it. So I just…don’t.
Another offensive word I get incandescently angry about is “housewife”. A lot of people don’t even think it’s offensive.
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I (black woman) really liked your post. I have used “nigga” around family and other black people who are cool with it. Don’t like white folks saying it- maybe the fact of coming from a white face is why. It’s not a trigger for me but I don’t care for it.
I totally feel you. The word is all around us and even though I do not go through the day literally hearing, “Nigger, nigger, nigger” it’s still around. I hear it when people talk about crime, I hear it when people talk about “ghetto,” I hear it anyway. Damn, I hear it every time something crazy comes out about the Obamas: waffles, monkeys, calling their 11yr old daughter a whore, and all that other shit we’re supposed to ignore.
I’m a literature major so I don’t freak about seeing the word in print or hearing it in a movie. I tend to be more anxious about coded racism because I feel no one believes me. I say it’s there and people tell me that I’m searching for racism. But you explained some types of coded racism in a cogent way and I appreciate it.
Oh, and when you said “nigger” in your first social experiment? I confess, I laughed out loud. Because that brings the shit home to them. I understood your intentions and agree with reconsidering using such a tactic. I would have loved to see their faces.
Thanks for being real
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i found this post very interesting. i’ve read others about this word, but i think this one is among the best. i have family members who are very racist and it’s very irritating. most don’t use this word, at least around me. i’ve had white people use the word around the “safety” of other white people to collectively refer to black people in general, and i’ve called them out on this, or my mother has. yes, racism still exists, and if we don’t continue to call it out as it happens then we’ll never become “post-racial.”
also, i found your analogy of the annoying student very relevant. we’ve all had similar experiences, and yes, the person’s minority status almost always transcends the annoying behavior itself.
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Hey, just recently picked up the blog, loving it so far! I (adopted-Asian-so-not-really-Asian transgendered female) feel the burden of racism from many angles, but in particular I notice how often it gets overlooked because it’s so common. It’s interesting how often I see people bring up race for no particular reason at all. “This black student in my class, blah blah blah” or “I know this Hispanic that blah blah blah” like it’s inappropriate to just call them people because they’re not *normal* people, since they’re not white of course.
I personally will be keeping an eye on this blog because of the gender and race issues it brings up, as I have a rather uncommon (but not unshared) perspective from each. I look forward to future posts!
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Thank you for this post. My family is multiracial (I am white, and have black and indigenous brothers who were foster-parented by my single mom, and several biological cousins of Asian and indigenous background through marriage), and I live for the moments when white people feel safe around me to spout racist shit. I can’t stand it that white people think I share their hate just because I share their skin color, and gleefully tear them a new asshole, or, even better, get to calmly introduce them to one of my very brawny brothers. The looks on their faces are priceless.
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Living in Australia, that’s not a word that’s hugely a part of my social consciouness. I’ve heard it twice in the last year, and those are possibly the only times I’ve ever heard it from real people. Both on public transport. The first time I shakenly told the man who said it that it was not an appropriate comment and was relieved when the whole bus backed me up – in a very gentle, non aggressive way.
The second time it was said by one of a group of drunk, young, white trash men, who I personally felt quite threatened by on the train. One of the other men said ‘mate. You can’t say that.’ First man said ‘no, it’s cool, my aunt’s Nungka (Aboriginal) so it’s ok’. Other men all said ‘nah, mate, have some respect.’ I was so impressed and embarrased that I had judged them completely on their class.
I really hate the way we shift the meaning of words around. If it’s a meaning that’s bothering us, we invent a new word (or phrase) for it, but it still means the same thing. People can use ‘First Peoples’ just as derrogitively as they can ‘nigger’, if they really want to.
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I think the Aussie equivalent of “nigger” would be “Abo”, or maybe “boong”. Actually, yeah, boong would be closer, simply because it’s a word which I think has gone out of circulation. But then, I’m living in a sort of segregation as well (the only non-white persons I see are the folks I share the queue with at Centrelink) so I’m not up on the commonly used terms of racial abuse.
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I identify as white. I look white. I was raised white, with the white side of my family. But I’m actually Hispanic. You’d never know it if I didn’t tell you. I feel uncomfortable calling myself Hispanic, because I feel like I’m appropriating a minority identity that I actually have no right to own. I have experienced life wholly as a white person, and feel like it would be really disingenuous and disrespectful to stand up from that life and say, “Okay, guys, I know I have lots of white privilege, but I’m totally not-white now, give me my not-a-white-person badge and my exotic food door prize, and no, my demanding a minority identity has nothing to do with my white privilege and it is so racist of you to say so!.”
okay sorry to jump on this one thing which is not exactly the actual topic of your post, but OH DAMN I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE. legit, i did a double take reading that, because I’ve never met anyone else who had a similar relationship to their white-Hispanicness as me, and I just feel way less alone now, and thank you.
and, yeah, I definitely have had a couple experiences in recent years where I was like, whoa, that person would not have said that thing about Hispanics (“you know how those Latinas, they dress very voluptuously?” which… yeah) if they knew I was Hispanic, no wonder I read people of color talking about how they don’t trust white people; they have no way of knowing whether or not this shit happens when they (think they) are in all-white company. I have like a pathological hatred of making situations uncomfortable, though, so I basically never say anything.
(interestingly, I’ve never had anyone bring up affirmative action after learning I was Hispanic… I wonder why our experiences are so different on that score?)
this whole post is super interesting, I’ll be thinking about it for a while.
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I love this post and the responses. But when Kate from Australia said “white trash” — another Americanism that’s become very popular in Australia — I thought this might be a good time and place to ask about the phrase “white trash”.
I think I first came across it in “Gone with the wind”, along with “poor white”. I gathered that “trash” and “poor” were automatically assumed to refer to the “darkies” in the book unless you clarified by adding “white”.
Is that right? Americans? Can you help out here?
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I had thought about saying something in response to that comment, but I’m trying to keep comments short because I am not supposed to be on the internet at all right now.
Personally, I don’t like the term white trash at all. I view it as equivalent to the term “ghetto,” which has serious racial overtones mixed with a classist bent. Basically, they seem to be two words that are used to demarcate certain groups of people as not white and middle-class enough, and therefore slovenly and bad enough that they may as well be trashy black people. But I kept my peace right there, because I was interested in seeing if anybody else spoke up.
I think you sort of answered your own question brilliantly. Class in America can’t really be separated too easily from race (I’m assuming this is true elsewhere, as well). Since non-white people are disproportionately represented in the “lower classes,” to call somebody trashy, ghetto, or poor can often be a euphemism for calling them black, unless the whiteness is explicitly emphasized. Emphasizing the whiteness seems to serve a two-fold purpose: it separates the poor among lines of race, keeping them from ever coming together for their rights, and it emphasizes the depths to which the white person has been degraded. That is, they’re not just poor, which is bad enough — they’re white and poor, which is such a massive failure of their whiteness.
To me, calling somebody “white trash” is a pretty racist/classist thing to say. What I hear is, “You’re so poor, stupid, and dirty you’re almost not worth being called white anymore.” Otherwise, I can’t see the point of putting the “white” in there; it’s specifying something about that group that “poor” and “trash” (pure classist terms) obviously can’t accomplish alone.
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I think you are awesome for making people feel uncomfortable with their racism. There is no such thing as being a little racist, or racial. You either are, or you aren’t. When you are, someone will be there with a quick smart ass remark to remind you to behave like you have some common sense.
With respect to other commentary, there is no difference between the words “nigga” and “nigger”; Black people have been using the word to speak about themselves since slavery. In the historical context, it was a noun that corresponded with an object, not an adjective used to describe a person (current context). I agree with you that it shouldn’t be struck out of our lexicon: it is a reminder of what was, and getting rid of it will not simultaneously remove the effects of slavery. The thought is absurd.
What’s even more absurd/racial: when white people don’t realize I’m Black until they see my face, or they tell me that “I’m not really Black” once they discover that I am smarter than a rock, speak English like a native speaker (wait…I am a native speaker), dress well, and listen to more than “black music”. WTF? Why is it that in the USA in 2009, Black women can only be two things: a harpy/mammy, like the woman you just described (loud, brash, annoying, fat, nappy hair, dark) or sex-crazed whores (thin, light, straight hair, no self control)?
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This is part of why I don’t yet feel entirely comfortable banning the use of — or at least the awareness of — the word “nigger” entirely. Because to me, somebody saying “you’re not really black” actually translates as “you’re not really a nigger, even though you’re black.” You are black (hello, check out the family tree), and there’s nothing wrong with you being black, and no reason for them to tell you you’re not black, unless the black they’re talking about has nothing to do with family trees and melanin, and everything to do with a word and a concept they’re pretending doesn’t exist anymore.
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Thank you for your comment. I as a (white) and non American woman found that through what you’ve said in your response, that I started to get a better idea of the privilege that Harriet speaks of.
Australia is a society that also perpetuates what is spoken of here with regard to coded racism. I’m constantly reminded that there seems to be a view of three different Australia’s, all cohabiting, but not all that well. There is White Australia, there is Multi-Cultural Australia (which is sometimes simply coded as ‘Asian Influence’) and also Indigenous Australia. the latter two are never spoken of in such a way as there is the possibility of equality.
In reading this post, and your comment Dawn… that’s become a whole lot clearer to me. I am part of a multi-racial relationship with my fiance, so while racism and stereotyping and assumptions are made all over the place… they fall short of what is understood as ‘overt racism’. I see clearer what kind of experience my fiance perhaps has inside of this three part Australia and it’s covert racism.
It’s got me thinking, and hopefully more importantly noticing and endeavouring to not perpetuate this as an ongoing thing – and also to notice it in situations around me and be able to take a stance inside of this awareness and say something.
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I don’t know about that, Meg. I often find myself trying to explain to non-Australians that Australian racism differs from the North American model, because they assume that a black British/American/French person would get followed around a shop by the staff or have trouble getting allowed into a swimming pool or bar.
Then they often say: “Oh, so it’s like with American indians?” and I say “er, yeah, s’pose so”.
Do Native American Indians have names for each other that they don’t care to hear coming from whites? I wouldn’t know, because for all I read all these North American anti-racist blogs, I almost never see any reference to Native Americans, or, for that matter, anyone of Arab, North African, Indian or Pakistani (or Afghan or Iraqi or Jordanian or Syrian ) descent in the US, even though they were persecuted because of their race after 2001.
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I have a specific educational background in African-American history, which of course makes it a central theme for me. But you’re right that, in general, racial history is posited as “white vs. black,” with no shades of anything else in between. Or, to be more specific and less succinct, “white vs. all peoples who are not white, who white people lump into one designated brown mass.”
While I’ve got individual, personal reasons that brought me to African-American studies, I know I was also acting out part of that cultural narrative in a very general way. I got entranced, in my African-American history course, at finally finally finally getting to learn about the Other America, the one I knew was there but was never addressed academically.
It took me several years to wake up a little more and realize oh, wait a fuckin’ second, there’s all sorts of fucking Americas, but I have been focused exclusively on learning about the ones that posit white people as central, commanding figures, whether that be a history that is All About Wonderful Us, or a history that is All About Horrible Us. I have virtually no experience in a history that is Not About White People In Any Particular Way.
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Harriet, is this in reply to my reply to Meg wondering about the Australian equivalent of “nigger”? Even if it’s not, I’m really grateful and pleased to hear a North American address the black-and-white view of racism that seems to dominate there.
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Uh, possibly probably? Without real internet at home for the moment, I’m doing most of my updating at cafes on a tiny tiny laptop that is awesome in most things but doesn’t really react to WordPress well, so I think it was probably my intention to respond to that post, but god knows where it ended up.
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Your entry today made me decide it wasn’t bad form to put a comment here too.
I’m not sure if “ghetto” is as synonymous as you suggest it is. It was always a word that more specifically implied “poor” to me, and since I know throughout history there have been many kinds of ghettos, with lots of kinds of poor people in them [Blacks, Jews, Christians, Irish...etc], I’m not sure if you should be so quick to make that assessment of the word. I think a few of your comments here have sort of come close to suggesting this might be an uncomfortable thing to do [see: comparisons to "white trash"].
Is it still a derogatory term? I’d say yes, certainly. Is there an argument to be made that its meaning has shifted beyond its original implications, not unlike how “gay” seems no longer definable as simply “cheerful”? I think there is. But I don’t know if it’s as definitive as you state it here.
Hah. I read this over the weekend and have been itching about it the whole time.
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Excellent post, agreed with you throughout until the last paragraph which confused me. I’m not certain what you’re trying to achieve reading the book in public? I’ve heard of the book so I suppose if I saw you reading it in public I’d ‘get it’ but what if I knew nothing of the book and was offended? Are people offended by it? What do you say to people who ask questions, express distaste etc?
I’m having the same issues with articulating why that paragraph made me uncomfortable but the first things that sprung to mind were hipster racism and swastika tattoos.
I reckon you know the former but the latter (aside from flat out racists) seems to be people who want to be deliberately antagonistic by getting a swastika tattoo, original meaning, and their reasoning and how they’d explain it to people who misunderstood their peace symbol for racism would be rather patronising, completely ignoring or playing down it’s recent history. All in all it just seems a bit insensitive, I’m not really understanding that part, I don’t understand how it will encourage any form of discussion or challenge anyone to think about their own behaviour, surely they’d just think ‘Well atleast I don’t use the n word, I’m definitely not a racist!’ and continue their lives with their coded prejudices going unchallenged?
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Confusion is totally okay here. I am not fully sure about my deeper motivations for a lot of what I do surrounding race, and the only solid thing I have grabbed onto in all my wondering is that, however I feel or whatever I’m thinking, it’s better to put it out there than hold it in. Which sometimes leads me to, say, buying a book called “Nigger” that I am really actually very interested in reading, ending up in a public location with the book in my purse, and then having a moment of paralyzing confusion/terror/shame/awkwardness when I wonder if I should bring the book out and read it, publicly. My thought process, in that moment, goes something like this:
1) I am a white person in a country with a history of using this word insultingly and with the privilege of ownership and definition. Being publicly identified with this word might cause POC around me to feel very uncomfortable. But it’s obvious from the cover, and the subtitle, and the whole look of the thing, that this is an academic treatment of the word, so would that still be offensive? And I really do want to learn more about this word, and isn’t that supposed to be the right thing — to educate myself on racism, rather than asking others to educate me? Or is this all just rationalization for why, even though I know it might be offensive, I get to do whatever I want because I am a privileged whitey? What if somebody who is non-white is offended? What if they come over here and yell at me? I think that might be good for me, having to face their anger, and really hear it. But am I just demanding that POC police me, instead of policing myself? Maybe I should just never ever bring this book in public. Maybe it’s only okay to read in private. But seriously, do I think this guy published this book with this title because he really wanted people to just continue pretending this word doesn’t exist?
2) I am a white person usually surrounded by white people who can talk about race in very vague general terms, but shy away from ever talking about race and racism whenever it becomes personal, hard to articulate, or uncomfortable. As a white person committed to anti-racism, I feel I have an obligation to not let them get away with that shit. Owning this book, allowing people in public to see that I own this book, might provoke discussion. Or it might provoke their own internal mess of thoughts (see 1 above) that could lead to them having to think about uncomfortable things, such as, is it okay that I am interested in learning about things that aren’t socially “okay” to learn about in public? Is it okay to want to talk about these things? To whom can I talk about these things? Where can I learn these things?
Whenever I’m confronted with all the swirling confusion of my own privilege and race and racism and oh my god am I doing it wrong, I usually go with the hardest path. I don’t know if that’s always the right path. But I do know that working on racism isn’t easy, comfortable, or fun, and so the more easy, comfortable, or fun my decisions are, the less I suspect I’m doing anything worthwhile. It is incredibly hard for me to overcome years of social training that states, very clearly, that I am never to even think about a certain word, and pull out a book that says “Nigger” in public. It is comparatively more easy for me to spout “nigger” at ignorant classmates in order to make a smug point, while it is much more difficult for me to, say Have a Very Serious Conversation About Their Racism. Which is part of why I started to think that maybe my original take on it wasn’t all up to snuff, that it was more for me than anybody else. I had to recognize that my intent in those situations was twofold: to get the racist conversation to stop cold because I couldn’t stand hearing it, and to point out the racism in the conversation. I think both those intentions were valid and appropriate, but I was willing to sacrifice the second intention for the first, which is less about anti-racism and more about my inherently white privilege to be in social and public spaces that are not making me think about race.
I can see now that it wasn’t an appropriate way to behave, and not a helpful reaction. I can see it was a mistake. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that if I could go back in time and take it all back, I would. Making that mistake was what enabled me to later see it as a mistake; if I had not acted at all, I would not have gone down this path of consideration, would not have asked myself what my intentions were, and would not have judged them or put them out there for judgment. I put my shit out there because I don’t feel anything moves forward if I keep it inside; I need to be willing to make mistakes, constantly re-think my behavior, and occasionally be really fucking embarrassed by myself if I’m ever going to move forward on the subject of race.
So I read the book in public because it’s incredibly hard for me to do so. I am constantly jumpy and confused and wondering if I’m an asshole. I am constantly watching the people around me to see how they react, and watching myself to see what I think about how they react. That’s a lot of inner turmoil that forces me to ask some questions about myself and my beliefs. But outside of my inner turmoil, here’s what’s happened when I’ve read this book in public: nothing. I don’t know if anybody has even noticed, and if they have, I don’t know if they’ve cared. I am completely willing to stand up to an external turmoil that matches my inner turmoil about the book, completely willing to be told I’m doing a terrible thing and engage in a conversation about that. I am totally willing to answer curious white people questions as respectfully as I can. I am totally willing to accept whatever consequences come of my reading a book called “Nigger” in public. So far the consequences have been zero. But my inner world has shifted around a whole lot with each public reading, and my inner world is also working out what it might mean that there has been no public consequences, and how I feel about that. That’s all really hard for me to do, really confusing, really strange, really nerve-wracking, and so I think I am doing what I need to do in order to push myself a little farther.
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I think you’re assuming that everyone, upon seeing your book, will automatically know it’s an academic text, understand what it’s about/why you’re reading it and seeing it in public will spur them on to some sort of complex self examination regarding their race & privilege. I understand your reasons for reading the book, I feel exactly the same, but reading it in public? As much as I love learning, debating and understanding everything I possibly can I can’t expect people to know my reasons, teach me or be taught by me. I know the book but if I saw you reading it I don’t think it would inspire me to discuss it with you, to be honest I’d be thinking ‘oh shit, someone’s unthinkingly trying to make a point’ your reasons, whilst the same as mine, I doubt would cross my mind and the reasons given seem selfishly based on you and your own self discovery.
Again, that’s something I can relate to which is why I’d give the public reading a miss, I don’t want to be the white woman sat there with a book called ‘Nigger’ expecting everyone to debate with me the pro’s & cons of my actions. It’s the perfect fantasy, you’ve placed yourself in a win-win situation where you always learn something so everything you do is perfectly fine regardless of who you offend or appeal to.
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I am assuming that based on the book itself. Go take a look at it on Amazon. While it may not be obvious that it’s an academic book, I do think it’s completely obvious that it’s not a book glorifying racism.
I’m not of the opinion that learning something is a selfish act. I’m also not of the opinion that I shouldn’t learn something unless I make sure it’s okay with everybody around me. I’m of the opinion that my greatest responsibility in life is to myself, and since I have chosen to call myself anti-racist, I have a responsibility to learn what I can about racism. I’m also of the opinion that we don’t live in a society where learning about racism is a private and solitary act. I’m also of the opinion that we don’t live in a society that is comfortable enough with discussions about race and racism that the unlearning of racism can be sought after in public spaces without offending a great many people a great many times, which means to be committed to anti-racism, I must be willing to offend others in public. If we lived in a society where race and racism were comfortable topics of conversation, this would not be a racist society, and these books and conversations would not be necessary.
I’m very much of the opinion that the only thing I can change in the world is myself. Much as I might like to, I cannot control the reactions and feelings of others, because that’s for them to take responsibility for. I cannot try to change myself, meet my needs, and become a better person if I am more concerned with what others think of me than what I think of myself. I want to think of myself as a good person, and my standards of what is “good” may be different than yours. I think consistently bettering myself is good. I think learning about topics that make me uncomfortable is good. I think standing by my convictions in public is good. I think being willing to make mistakes, and apologize for them, is good. I do not think holding an opinion that I refuse to speak aloud is good, nor do I think holding one opinion while saying another is good. I do not think deciding against speaking up because I’m afraid I might not be right is good. I do not think letting others decide what is good, based on what they think is good, makes me a good person.
I think it’s good to be willing, and actively try, to learn everything I can about a subject, even and especially if that subject is considered a social taboo. I think it’s good to be willing to stand by that commitment to learning in public. I think that if I am offended by something a person does, I have an obligation to myself to do something about that offense, either by speaking up about it, or removing myself from the situation. I understand not everybody feels that way, but I can’t control everybody, or decide what is good or right for them. I don’t have the intelligence, perception, time, or energy to curtail my activities based on the way another person might feel (but hasn’t stated or indicated). The most I can do is treat others the way I would like to be treated, and I would like to be treated like somebody who has a right to state my opinion when I wish it stated, and a right to my privacy when I do not wish it stated. Which means that if I sense somebody feels a certain way, but they have not stated that they feel this way, I do not assume it’s something they wish to talk about, or something they want me to fix for them; I assume that however they are feeling is their own business until they choose to make it mine.
If I feel that I have done something so hurtful that the person I have hurt is no longer comfortable discussing that hurt with me, I can make the decision whether or not to intrude on their privacy because I want to know what I have done, but I do that with the understanding that I may be crossing a boundary of silence they’ve erected, simply in order to make myself feel better. It may be that that person’s opinion is important enough to me that I wish to ask for clarification. It may be that their feelings are important enough to me that I am willing to make a (possibly completely wrong) assumption based on my perception and cease the behavior I think is offending them.
Whether or not I decide to change my behavior or ask for clarification without any indication from the person I may have offended is based on my personal sense of what it means to be a good person. I feel being sensitive to the historical and institutional oppression of certain classes makes me a good person. But “be sensitive” isn’t a guideline for action; I’m not born knowing how to be sensitive, how to overcome racism and sexism and all the other -isms. That’s done through a process of learning, and trial and error, and asking. That’s done by being willing to make myself vulnerable, in public, with other people who may think badly of me. I feel if I am serious about undoing these -isms, I must be equally serious about learning, and I must be equally serious about making my commitment public as well as personal. I cannot learn only from myself, in private. I have to learn from others, and I have to show that I am willing to stand by this learning no matter where I am or who I am with.
I’m also of the opinion that people’s assumptions are their own, and I cannot control them. If somebody only sees the title of my book in passing, and does not read the subtitle, or look long enough at the book to see that it is not about how awesome the word “nigger” is, or ask me about it, and walks away with the assumption that I’m racist, that’s their assumption to make based on the information they decided to gather. It’s not my job to be psychically tuned into their reaction, and race after them to fill them in on all the facts. It’s also not my job to censor my reading list to be sure that nobody makes this assumption about me. If somebody is interested in gathering the facts, the facts are there for the taking, specifically because I am not hiding them.
I’m also of the opinion that somebody could make the very opposite assumption you seem to assume all people would jump to. A POC could see a white person reading an academic treatment of a racist word, and see a potential ally.
But, again, that’s none of my business. My responsibility is to myself. And under my definition of what makes a person good, I am willing to educate myself, I am willing to discuss my beliefs with others, I am willing to ask questions, I am willing to make mistakes, I am willing to be personally uncomfortable, and I am willing to do all these things in public as well as in private, because I do not feel a private commitment that is never acted upon in public is any kind of commitment at all. And I do feel that all these things are more important to me than the way other people might feel about them, and I do not feel there is anything wrong with that belief at all.
I sense from your response that you do not fundamentally think that self-education should outweigh other people’s discomfort. I fundamentally disagree. You’ve also indicated that you agreed with the rest of my post, but significantly disagree with the book part. I find that indicates a very deep difference in our opinions, as I think it’s far less potentially offensive and hurtful to announce in public that I am taking my time and money to learn about the history of an offensive, racist word than it is to spout off that racist word in public in order to shut people up. I think these differences of opinion are significant enough that we are not able to come to an agreement here, and I’m not particularly willing to argue anymore, because I’ve really said everything I have to say on the topic. Anything after this would just be repeating myself.
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I don’t think I could spout off in public using racist words along with reading the book in public, I agree with you challenging peoples coded racism wholeheartedly and could kind of understand where you were coming from even if I couldn’t do it myself but the book part is where you pretty much state it’s for the pleasure of being snarky, saying the taboo. It seems self serving rather than a desire to learn. Do you think that any POC might wonder why you’d rather read a book about a negative word directed at them rather than actually get to know them as an individual?
I think we agree on a lot but you seem to think I disagree with you because I’ve come to a different conclusion, how can you be committed to self education if that self education is based on your own personal views of what is good and right and cannot include anyone elses unless they agree? I do like to be challenged, told I’m wrong, re-think my opinions and I have had to really consider my thoughts on this but I don’t see how shutting down the only dissenter could encourage any kind of positive debate, you have your opinions and they’re based on what you want, how you want to be an ally, how you want to ‘learn’ about POC, how you want people to see you, all based on your terms. I can’t see the room to actually be educated if any disagreement is shut down because of differences which makes me think of one of my original questions, what would you do if someone challenged you in public?
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I’d do exactly what I’ve done here.
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That’s what I thought and why I can’t understand how you’re an ally to anyone other than people who already think the same and agree with you. The only thought paid to what any POC might think comes across as an academic version of ‘I like rap, I totally get you’, I agree with a lot of what you say regarding challenging white people and our inherent racism & privilege but I really can’t get past the part where black people are there for your social experiment in learning all about yourself.
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I don’t agree that I have ever said or implied that. I don’t think you and I are able to communicate very well.
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I’ve been thinking about this a little more. I have listened to your argument, respectfully offered my opinion, and explained how I arrived at that opinion. You have tried to do the same, and we’ve found we don’t agree with one another. You seem to think this would be an inappropriate way to speak to an offended perosn in public. I’m not sure how I could conduct myself better than listening, conversing, explaining my ideas in detail, and behaving respectfully while doing so. I’m thinking the thing you think is missing from this conversation, and the reason you’re not satisfied with a respectful conversation, is because I have refused to agree with you. I don’t believe all conversations have to end in agreement, but I feel that you aren’t going to be satisfied until I do, and I personally find that a very disrespectful and disingenuous way to conduct an argument.
Normally I would have blocked your comments from the start. But I get the sense that you’re very young, and wanted to allow you a space to have a conversation about something that was obviously important to you. While I don’t think you’re a troll, at this point you’re having the same effect as one: you’re monopolozing the comment space, and all other conversation has stopped in favor of continually responding to you, while the conversation apparently goes nowhere, as we are not able to communicate effectively with each other, and you are not satisfied with my responses. Because this is my blog space, and because I have the right to choose who I do and do not allow into my space, I’m going to stop approving your comments. I feel at this point you are simply trying to browbeat me into seeing your point or agreeing with you, and that does nothing but irritate me until I feel like dropping the civility and insulting you. Since I don’t want to do that, I’m removing you from my personal sphere instead.
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