Personal Reflections on the use of the N-word
June 8, 2021 (Updated January 16, 2023)
When I got on the bus to go home from school, I thought it would be like any other day. All the students were excited as usual to go home, but especially excited that the end of the school year was swiftly approaching. As I went to find somewhere to sit, I saw my siblings sitting separately in different seats towards the back of the bus. I chose to sit next to my brother as the bus driver rushed those of us trickling in to find a place to sit so we could leave the school parking lot.
As we drove, surrounding cars could hear the screams and loud conversations we had on the bus; the vibe on this day was quite remarkable, and I remember it well. But it was a conversation about basketball that changed everything.
Just as we were approaching my stop, this conversation about basketball turned into an argument. This wasn’t uncommon, but what happened next was. My siblings and I were called “Big nose niggers like LeBron James.” I was 8. And little did I know that this would be the first of many times that this word would be used to insult me throughout my life.
At the age of 10, I was called a “stupid nigger” during recess by another student. When a friend of mine told my teacher at the time what was said, interestingly her response was, “Tell him sorry.” I still remember the student’s exact apology. “Look, I didn’t mean it. It just slipped,” she said. Nearly 20 years later I look back on this day and find myself amused by how a derogatory word just slipped out at such a young age. And maybe I shouldn’t have expected much of a 10 year old, but in reflecting I’ve found myself questioning these types of responses. I questioned, where did she learn this word from? At such a young age, how was she privy enough to understand that it’s an insult for Black people? I wondered, was this a word that her parents used at home? I’ll never know the answer to these questions. Frankly, I don’t care to. However, in some cases, I’ve concluded that we’re surrounded by people who assume a cheerful and loving guise, masked as decent and moral people; but beneath the façade lies racism.
Years later at 17 a classmate called me a nigger 3 times to my face while we were watching a class video. He only took back his words when I told him I’d see him after class, and he did so by earnestly suggesting that “it was just a joke, Shaq.” That same year, walking back to school from lunch, a group of white students that went to the high school down the street from mine drove passed and yelled “nigger,” and threw their garbage at me. Two years later at the age of 19 during a night-time walk with a friend, a car drove past us and oddly chose to yell “nigger” before speeding off. In each of these situations I look back and simply laugh because of the randomness of it all. I wasn’t doing anything mischievous or bothering anyone. Yet, because of the colour of my skin, it entertained these people to call me the N-word to intentionally cause harm.
For decades Black people have been subject to this type of racism, and much worse, particularly in relation to the N-word. However, over the last 50 years, Black people have sought to reclaim the N-word. Because of this push, the most widely used version of it in the present is ‘nigga’, a nuanced form of the derogatory word that is intended to be exclusively used between Black people. In changing the letters, a distinction was created. Oratorically, it may sound to the untrained ear that these words are the exact same, but they’re not. Today, between Black people, the N-word has become a term of endearment, and a reference to either a friend, sibling, or simply another Black person.
Despite this push to reclaim the word, during this time the Black community has continually had internal discussions on whether the word should be used or not. For myself, I’ve always had mixed feelings about contemporary and colloquial use of the N-word. I suppose it’s a continuously evolving perspective that includes a process of wavering between these two opinions. Just a few years ago if you were to ask me about my thoughts on this topic, it’s likely that I would have voiced my disapproval through some sort of philosophical understanding. Just reflecting, I can hear myself now saying, “I think Black people as a whole should stop using the N-word because culturally, we tend to use it so freely in the Black community which merely confuses non-Blacks—confusing them to the point where they believe that they too have a license to unproblematically use it because the word has been rebranded and seemingly stripped of its historical connotation, now presenting as ‘just another word.’” At the time, this was my firm belief. To some extent, I still believe this to be true considering that many racialized groups use this word without truly understanding the weight it holds. But I also consider ignorance of the weight of the N-word a pretense to divert accountability and real conversations. Very rarely have I seen a non-Black individual who argues the N-word is like any other word feel comfortable enough to say it among a predominantly Black group. In most situations non-Black people are selective in the groups and contexts that they decide to say the word because they know there’s a fundamental issue with their use of it.
What adds an intriguing layer of complexity with avoiding use of this, is that the very mention of the phrasing ‘N-word’ prompts readers or listeners to uncomfortably say the word in their minds. In the past, this level of uncomfortableness with the N-word would have reinforced my position that it’s better for no one to use it.
In thinking about the use of the N-word today, my reservations in reclaiming the word stemmed from the historical context tied to the original word, ‘nigger.’ My early education on the meaning of the word came as a child from my family and elder church members enlightening myself and other children on its derogatory meaning and historical context. With many of them having been born in the 1930s, 40s, and 50s, they discussed their traumatic experiences of racism, with white people calling them the N-word while living in England, Canada, and the US. They would often tell stories of how they were bullied, chased, and mocked for their hair and the colour of their skin. Some would cry as they retold disturbing experiences. They would close their eyes and visibly cringe as they revealed their suppressed memories and feelings of situations where they legitimately feared for their life, all the while being called that one word: nigger. It was through these conversations where I learned that because of their horrid experiences of racism, current uses of the N-word by the Black community were seen as disrespectful, ignorant, and silly.
Seeing the anger and uneasiness on their faces is something I can’t forget. This is because they wished they could have done more at the time to defend themselves. But being a Black person at this time in particular meant that most courses of action would end with penalization. So, they kept quiet.
These stories made me realize at an early age how our ancestors, grandparents, and parents were bombarded with the ill-intentioned use of this word. And as a result, for years this understanding created a deep guilt and distaste for the N-word in any context or form.
In my teenage years I was introduced to the logic behind the other side of the conversation of the N-word. Black people sought to reclaim and neutralize the effect of the N-word by using it more casually within the Black community, removing the word that white people used to insult Black people, and saying that this is our word now. This means that no one else has a right to use (or tell us how to use) it considering that it was largely our ancestors who were hatefully called this word. I embraced this logic. And today, I still do. And so, despite the historical baggage of the N-word, again I have found myself using it freely among Black people with a sense of indifference and understanding that there’s no clear answer on how or if we should use the word. My position has also developed to believing that Black people shouldn’t have to relinquish their power on a cultural word because it makes others uncomfortable. In the past, and to this very day, Black people are still made uncomfortable when it’s used in a derogatory form. And if we’ve had to deal with being not just uncomfortable, but deeply affected when it was used to intentionally hurt us, should the uneasiness of non-Black people be the tipping point?
Despite progressions in the understanding of society as a whole with the use of the N-word, discourse related to its use has continued along the same lines among Black and non-Black people. However, as these debates continue, I see increasingly complex ideas about who is able to use the word, and under what circumstances. Consider how among non-Black people, academics and linguists have suggested society has become sensitive, giving too much power to this word to the point where non-Blacks are unable to say it aloud in any context. Racialized people such as the Latin community have also joined the debate, arguing that they grew up in communities where it was normal for them to use it among themselves and Black people. The question here becomes, to what extent should non-Black people be able to use the N-word if their cultural base or academic setting calls for it?
As much as I understand how culture shapes language I consider contemporary use of the N-word as a profession of Blackness, which is holistically tied to race. Some argue that Blackness has cultural and socio-economic elements, meaning that one’s relationship with Black culture and socio-economic status in society might be factored into whether they can use the N-word or not, particularly for racialized communities. For other racialized groups, as much as culture, location, and mutual use of the N-word among Black people and their own ethnic group is acceptable, the fundamental difference is, should a racialized group decide to use the derogatory form of the N-word against another, in the case of Black and other racialized communities, the racialized group will always be able to say it in an offensive manner towards Black people, which can’t be said if the roles were reversed. By effect, this repeatedly places Black people in potential positions of oppression. As such, my perspective here, be it realistic or not, is that only Black people should have the right to use it.
With respect to academic settings, I agree that words are often afforded too much power, largely to the detriment of academic institutions. However, I consider context an essential element of the decision-making process. It should go without saying that using the N-word to intentionally offend a Black person is unacceptable. References to the N-word in the context of learning, through reading a passage for example, I largely consider harmless, except to the extent that a Black person is made uncomfortable when it’s used. Here, a human-centered approach is required, as opposed to putting the goals of the institution first.
When it comes to the internal debate in the Black community about the N-word, I can say that today I freely and unapologetically use the word in my community as I feel it allows me to profess my Blackness. I’ll admit, at times I do question, how would our ancestors and elders feel, hearing that we have reclaimed a word that was used each day to disparage them? Would they simply believe we are disrespecting each other? Or, would they be proud of our progression—proud to see that their pain allowed us to alter the power dynamics of society, and reclaim this word and transform its meaning and its use? I don’t know the answer to these questions. And although the N-word carries significant baggage, I value and see power in being able to communicate with my people in ways we deem acceptable and relatable.
These discussions will continue, but when it comes to the N-word I believe that it’s an individual and generational decision on whether it should be used. As generations change and perceptions of power develop, it becomes the duty of the present generation of Black people to define what is and isn’t acceptable. But if Black people deem it acceptable for the word to be used within the Black community to alter its meaning for Black use, then that is ultimately their decision, and ideally we should all be accepting of that.
Interested in learning more? Check out these resources related to the subject:
Suggested Readings:
- The Narrative of Fredrick Douglas: An American Slave by Frederick Douglas
- The Idea That Whites Can’t Refer to the N-Word – The Atlantic by John McWhorter
Suggested Video:
- I Am Not Your Negro | TVO Docs – YouTube by James Baldwin
Suggested Podcast: