Thoughts on Being Called a "Nappy Nigger" in "Post-Racial" America
From streettherapymagazine.com
All the world was white.
A cold, quiet, calm night. I tilted my head back to capture snow flakes on my tongue in the dark, and I felt like a kid again, giddy over what was sure to be an impending snow day. I had to walk in the street because for some reason, they just can’t seem to shovel the sidewalks in South West, D.C., but I was fine with it. I felt young and free, walking in the snow with a clean slate. Like I had my whole life ahead of me, and that life would be just as beautiful and wonderful as freshly fallen snow.
And then, a revving engine snapped me out of happy. Visibility was low, and I couldn’t tell from where it came. And then, headlights. And tires swerving on the icy street. A white woman inside of a white pick-up truck. Could she see me there in the street? I was wearing a long black peacoat, black snowboots, black face. Couldn’t she see me? When she swerved dangerously close I threw up both of my hands, “HEY!” COULDN’T SHE SEE ME?! The wind she kicked up blew strongly against my face and body as she sped past me and I was infuriated. I wanted to throw something at her stupid truck, I wanted to yell something after her, but as fast as she came, she was gone, down the street to the red light. My heart pounded and I was out of breath, but I kept on walking.
And again, a revving engine, screeching tires. But no one was in front of me. But the sound grew closer and closer. I glanced behind me to see that white pick-up truck had backed up, the window had rolled down, and the white woman had leaned across to her passenger window just to make sure I heard her: “FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING NAPPY NIGGER!” And she sped off again.
***************
I thought if I waited to discuss this incident, in a few days’ time I would have some clarity, maybe even something profound to say about race and race relations in what someone who I do not know, and definitely don’t agree with, has dubbed: “post-racial America.”
I decided to discuss the two-time-near-death experience to get my thoughts out in the open. Reactions ranged from horror to laughter to anger…at me: “well what did you do? Did you just stand there, like a ‘nappy nigger?'”
It was immediately clear that I wasn’t going to have any sort of meaningful discussion regarding this incident, after all.
So, I just sat on it for a few more days. But the week wouldn’t let me escape it. What with Rush Limbaugh calling Obama an “uppity” negro, and John Mayer gushing about his “White supremacist” penis, resulting in a disdain for Black women (who are all either: successful yet single, lonely, sad and depressed; or trifling welfare queens a la Precious, if you let the mainstream media tell it).
For a salary, I listen to Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh spit their race-baiting and dangerous vitriol day in and day out. I watch the tea baggers practically foaming at the mouth because their President is Black. I am not so privileged to turn a blind eye to the reality that dangerous prejudice exists. I do not get to be blissfully ignorant to the fact that racism cuts beyond nasty words that hurt feelings, but is safely cemented in centuries of physical and mental enslavement, heinous murders, brutal rape, and constant fear of terrorists. Racism is institutionalized, abandoning 1/3 of Black children to a life below the poverty line and leaving “Black men with a clean record no better [prospects] than white men just released from prison” when seeking employment in this economy. I don’t note these things in a vain attempt to convince the Deniers; these are just incontestable facts.
Growing up in Nebraska and Virginia, and campaigning for Obama in Middle Georgia, this was not my first experience being called a nigger, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. And as much as I hate to admit that it stung to hear it, there was no new revelation in that experience; I have always known that some people will shovel dirt upon my law degree, my law review editor position, my summa cum laude, my scholarships, my great job, my great apartment, and all of my talents. Those things will be buried under my skin, and to some, I will always be Nigger.
I don’t say this to gain pity or to give anyone a “glimpse” into what it is like to be Black. I’ll leave that to Soledad O’Brian and CNN. I say it because it is a simple fact.
I was not placed on this earth to seek out validation or dispel any stereotypes. I will not stand in the middle of the street waving my hands trying to be seen. I’d sooner die. Whether I am seen or not seen, it doesn’t change the fact that I am here.
And while I have gained no clarity from this encounter, I did receive a needless reminder: I am a Black woman. I cannot escape it, even if in some demented world, I might want to. As a writer, my perspective is dominated by my experience as a Black woman. And as such, any platform I am blessed to have will be carefully used so as not to denigrate that. Some see such a responsibility as a burden, some an honor, and some don’t see it all.
A Black female writer I follow tweeted about a “compliment” she received on her writing:
“Someone recently said I “write like a white girl” and meant “without abandon and without the pressure that some black writers feel;” [the pressure being] worrying about what the black image police might say. […] Otherwise your creative process will be stifled by the weight of expectations of you as a woman, a black person or a single lady.”
Pardon me, but some foolishness—>like this right here<—begs to be stifled.
I choose not to feel that luxury of unabandoned writing. There is, apparently, a plethora of writers, entertainers, politicians and the like, dutifully filling that role. But I am inextricably bound to being Black and female. If that means my writing is limited to topics that don’t perpetuate negative stereotypes or disparage Black women, consider my writing so stifled.
Life and death lay in a bed of words. In full acknowledgment of their power, then, it is my sincere ambition to always write with a purpose, and to be ever-conscious of the impact my words can have. They may not tear down the prison of racism or lift children out of poverty, or break centuries-old chains; but if, in my lifetime, I can help one mind be free, it is my duty— and my honor— to try.
By all means, be a black woman. However, in the context that I took your fellow writer’s comment – and I disagree with calling it “white” to write in such a way as that you don’t perpetuate negative stereotypes but don’t be afraid ever to be honest. Without honesty, we would not have Alice Walker’s “The Color Purple” or Edwidge Danticat’s “Krik!Krak!” Be you, undeniably, but never, ever, ever, turn your back on the truth because it might be degrading or offensive.
And now, Jill Scott Pandora…the old Jill before this Golden crap. Yeah, I said it.
“I was not placed on this earth to seek out validation or dispel any stereotypes…”
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I find it beautiful that this is a reality that you have accepted at such a young age. I’ve found personally and in my interaction with so many other young women that often we just want to belong. It takes a brave person to realize that in your acceptance of self, you are helping others to do the same. And the neat thing about that is that in that revelation, you sometimes will do those things for which we claim that we are not here (like dispelling myths lol)
I didn’t get that you were in someway being dishonest or mincing words in your writing- I’ve never known you to do such a thing. But I will agree that there are always multiple ways to give a message and who are we to judge anyone for the way that they choose to send a message?
LOL @ Jill Scott Pandora. Is that kind of like an MJB Pandora? 🙂
This makes me sad and disguisted and sick to my stomach. As Brooke and I know, we disagree politcally – and that’s it. I respect her and hope she does me. That’s it; no need to take it lower.
As a white man, I am sorry and embarrassed.
or disgusted – as the case may be
too much wine – on a night I should be studying my cases for tomorrow night!
check me out, check me out
a white girl called you a n-
like Martin and Gandhi you’re bigger
black president, so figure
white people got a little sicker
I might got something quicker
i write like a black man
here’s my back hand
back the hell up,
or i’ma act like Taliban.
and that’s a wrap.
Prof. Jim! Of course I respect your political views. And the only one who can apologize and should be embarrassed is the woman who said it, and I honestly hope I never see her again!
Queenie, I agree, I shouldn’t judge the way people choose to tell their stories; see and need, fill a need.
Abbs, I am ALL about the truth and being honest about the challenges we face. But there are black women who are buying into these venomous stereotypes that other black women are selling them to make a dollar (Soledad O’Brian, all of those black sad single undesirable women books/movies/articles, black female producers portraying black women as mammy or as “sapphire,” the angry Black woman, on tv). We have been defeminized and hypersexualized in the media and that is obviously a profitable market in literature/entertainment. I’m just saying I’m not buying into it and I won’t peddle it.
And yay for comments!! I love them!!
Ha! I had one comment in mind, until I saw that you may have inadvertently quoted me here and I need to defend my statement. I didn’t offer those words to Helena as a compliment. Rather, I was offering my theory as to why she has experienced some backlash for her writing. She’s being held up as the voice of the single Black woman when she is merely offering her own unique voice. Someone who wanted to be the spokesperson for all single Black women would have to be a lot more guarded and less human. People are mad at her for living freely and reporting about it, though it’s not her writing but, rather, the terrible writing ABOUT her that has put some negative spin on the whole conversation. Hope that clears it up.
All that aside, I am terribly sorry this happened to you but NOT surprised. Nor should you be. Anyone who IS surprised is naive. We have a lot of work to do. Keep fighting! Great post.
Double ha! If I had known you were the one who said that, it would have completely changed my interpretation of that tweet. And yes, all clear, now, and that makes perfect sense. Thanks so much for reading and commenting!
@StarJonesEsq this is pretty good for meditating on, as well: http://www.dcdistrictdiva.com/?p=132
@StarJonesEsq well today you want to talk race and responsibility? http://www.dcdistrictdiva.com/?p=132
@abelleinbk yes, black writer! support black writers! http://www.dcdistrictdiva.com/?p=132 🙂
@abelleinbk does the bk way include reading my awesome post? http://www.dcdistrictdiva.com/?p=132
RT @DCDistrictDiva: @abelleinbk does the bk way include reading my awesome post? http://www.dcdistrictdiva.com/?p=132
Great read on post-racial America: http://www.dcdistrictdiva.com/?p=132 (via @dcdistrictdiva)
RT @abelleinbk: Great read on post-racial America: http://www.dcdistrictdiva.com/?p=132 (via @dcdistrictdiva)
RT @abelleinbk: Great read on post-racial America: http://www.dcdistrictdiva.com/?p=132 (via @dcdistrictdiva)
“Life and death lay in a bed of words. In full acknowledgment of their power, then, it is my sincere ambition to always write with a purpose, and to be ever-conscious of the impact my words can have.”
NICE!
^ also, um sister toldja reads/comments on your blog, too? AND you got an official domain name? wow! so official.
Right?!!! Isn’t that the best thing EVER!!! She is my shero.
@blackvoices thoughts? (On Being Called Nappy Nigger In Post Racial USA) http://www.dcdistrictdiva.com/?p=132) i'm versatile! 🙂
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Some1 Googled "how do you deal with being called nigger"&got 2 my http://www.dcdistrictdiva.com/?p=132 hope it helped h8 u had 2 go thru tht
Ya know what Diva, I like your style. When I get back to DC we should be friends lol. In all seriousness, I’ve returned to this post so that I can send it to my white roommate. In a discussion yesterday, she had a hard time conceptualizing that I, as an educated black woman, faced overt or covert racism daily both here in Egypt and in DC. She asked me why I didnt ‘do something about it’, as if it is my job to bring “enlightenment” to the East. Before she and I continue that convo, I want to draw her attention to this post and to your statement:“I was not placed on this earth to seek out validation or dispel any stereotypes…”
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When I initially commented I clicked the “Notify me when new comments are added” checkbox and now each time a comment is added I get four e-mails with the same comment. Is there any way you can remove people from that service? Cheers!|