Despertar

on censorship

Note(s?) to non-black people:

You don't have to put yourself through the whole cumbersome thing of saying "African American." It makes you sound awkward, underexposed and uncomfortable. "Black," strictly speaking, is less accurate, yes, but when used as an adjective (and NEVER as a noun), it's totally acceptable. It's what we're used to. It's what we call each other (which I know isn't the definitive test, because of that other word, which we'll get to in a minute, but in this case, just trust me).

Two things, about "African American"--first off, the people most concerned with political correctness tend to be the ones who live in the most homogenized communities. When you're used to being around minorities, you grow to learn that not everything you say or do will offend them, so you relax your rigid standards of speech and behavior. Whenever I hear someone use the term "African American," and invariably stutter through the words, I interpret that they feel uneasy about referring to someone racially, almost as though they feel like they're using a dirty word. (Side note: it's also bizarre when you describe someone physically, for instance so I will recognize them in a group, and you leave out the obvious fact that they are black/Hispanic/Asian/whatever. Telling me they have "dark hair and eyes," and are "tall," and letting me scan through every person of every skin color, narrowing it down to maybe three-quarters of the people present, just adds a whole bunch of extra, time-consuming steps.)

Secondly, in the interest of accuracy, I have to point out that I, like most slave-descended black Americans, have never been to Africa, and have no idea what percentage of my forefathers are from which region in Africa. The same slaveowners who raped my female ancestors, resulting in my having my diluted reddish-tannish-brown skin tone, also weren't terribly kind about letting them maintain records of life before the boat ride. Barring some geneaological breakthrough by my grandmother, who is really obsessed with tracking our lineage right now, knowledge of whether we are Ghanaian or Egyptian or South African by blood is probably lost to the winds.

I'm not as bitter about that as, say, my parents' generation. I strongly believe that black America is a culture of its own; plus, I know a little about my own background, and I have my theories. I can trace my mother's side of the family, and maiden name, to a well-known plantation in Tennessee where the white owners had the same name. I know my paternal great-grandparents were Gullah and grew up on an island in the Caribbean. I know my Irish grandfather liked dark-skinned women. I know my maternal grandfather looked just like a Sudanese classmate I had in college, and that Ethiopian men frequently stop me and try to speak to me in Ethiopian, probably because of the shape of my forehead. And I know there is Cherokee mixed in, because I've seen the slave sale records that described my some-greats-grandfather as "mulatto also one-third Indian."

I also know that I don't know any more about Africa than what I learned in school and in the supplementary texts my dad forced on as little kids. I know a lot of African immigrants despair of black people who have been in America for several generations, believing us ungrateful for the privileges society finally got around to granting us. The closest I come to speaking an African language is that I can count to ten and say hello in Swahili, thanks to picture books.

But I also know that my skin is darker than it is light, and that some of the nicest things (onyx, the night sky, sharps and flats) are black. So "black" is fine.

"Nigger" is not. Not ever. I know there's that whole thing about it showing up in the music, and that some people feel like it shouldn't be accessible to some groups but off-limits to others, so I handle that by not using it, ever. Right there, where I just used it, that's probably the only time I've spoken or written it in 2008. If you have to tell me a story that relies on use of the word, fine. If you want to tell me a joke, and it's the punchline, don't. I'm sure some of you, or your relatives, use it in the privacy of your homes. That I can't help. But my parents don't. I don't. And we're "allowed" to.

The thing is, like "cunt," it's a word that refers to a physical attribute. Unlike "idiot," "jackass," "sheepfucker," et cetera, I can't distance myself from the implications of that word by changing my behavior. You're not a cracker if you don't underpay and whip your employees, but I'm always going to be an N-word, and a C-word, no matter what I do with my life. So they are unfair, and should be taken out of play. I don't like them, I don't use them, and I bristle when other people do.

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That's the thing, with censorship. You don't have to self-censor, but use some freaking common sense. Use what you know about human psychology. Only children should say every single thing that springs to mind, because they don't know better. If you're burning with curiosity about your subway neighbor's skin condition, but your knowledge of normal human sensitivity suggests that bringing it up might hurt the person's feelings, maybe it isn't worth it, to ask.

I had lots of friends, in college, who prided themselves on being "outspoken" and "speaking their minds," "saying things to people's faces" rather than being "two-faced." In some subcultures, this is a virtue. Not mine. I think anyone who doesn't make use of their brain-to-mouth filter is pretty childish. And I think being "two-faced" is a much different thing from being nice to everyone just because people deserve respect. I don't think it's really anyone else's business whether or not I like them, unless we have some sort of relationship. And unless I can somehow help them improve, which is a pretty ballsy assumption, they don't need my criticism, either. I save most complaints for my friends. I guess that makes me a jackal.

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That said, I don't think AL is wrong. That, what I just said about the outspoken girls, proves to me that standards vary from culture to culture. Part of being an adult, though, is adapting your behavior to facilitate interaction with your surroundings.

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I say Jantelag all the time, now. I hope I'm not using or pronouncing it wrong, but I'm probably doing both.