October 29, 2006

Nigga. Nugga. Niggra. Nig. Nukka. Nigguh.

All different pronunciations of the same word. Nigger. Defined as "an extremely offensive name for a Black person."

And I used the word. Often. Quite frequently in fact. As anyone who personally knows me could attest to, I had a difficult time saying more than 5 sentences without the word "nigga" interspersed somewhere in there. (Of course, this is when I was in conversation with black people that I know and could be informal and familiar with.)

I used the word "nigga" in a myriad of ways.

I used it as a term of endearment for other blacks: "See, that's why you my nigga. You always come through for a sista!"

As a term of scorn towards other blacks: "Ooooh, I can't stand that shiftless lazy ass nigga!"

As a term of scorn towards non-blacks: "George W. Bush is one crazy ass nigga!"

When referring to food: "These niggas is delicious!"

In song: (sung to the tune of "Money") "Nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga.....NIGGA!"

When repeating the lyrics of popular songs: "That's that crack music nigga! That real black music nigga!"

When referring to my dog: "That lil nigga must be crazy! He pissed in my room!"

When referring to geographic locations: "Girl, ain't no way I'm living in Niggaville!"

When referring to time periods: "I'm with Kat! Never in the history of Niggadom has a nigga ever discovered a wild animal!"

As an adjective: "He wasn't just black. He was nigga black!"

When quoting friends (I love this quote from my girl Koko): "I ain't in the business of doing shit for a nigga that don't want shit done for em."

As an extra punctuation at the end of a sentence: "Mama, these folks down here are driving me crazy.......nigga."

And that's probably just the tip of the iceberg.

Some of you might be shocked. (Some of you already know I used the word because I've used it in your presence.) Some of you might have just lost any and every shred of respect that you ever held for me because of what you've just read. And, one hour ago, I wouldn't gave a damn....nigga.

You see, in spite of the fact of what the word once meant, how it was used, who used it, and in what context they used it in, I'd always felt perfectly justified in my usage of the word. For several reasons.

Number one: My great-grandmother, who was possibly run out of Mississippi in the 1940s for being an "uppity nigger," used the word quite frequently as I've been told. She was a woman who had many catchphrases; all more colorful than the next or the last. One of my favorite quotes from her is "Niggas ain't shit." Now, I know that sounds pretty harsh. It is. From what I've been told, she was a harsh woman. Said what she meant and meant what she said. I've also been told that she was a woman who, after giving you the tongue lashing of your life, would do anything to help you out of a bad situation. I've also been told that she loved the radical Nation of Islam brothers in the 1950s before many mainstream African-Americans could receive their messages. (Although she did say of Elijah Muhammad, "Oh please. That nigga ain't shit. I knew his ass before he knew Allah.") I've also been told that she hit the pavement for months in order to get the vote out for Mayor Harold Washington; the city of Chicago's first Black mayor.
So, I'd always figured, if she used the word, what's so bad about me using it? No doubt that as a young black woman living in Mississippi in the early 20th century, she'd heard the word in its original use. I'm sure she heard the word spat out of the mouths of white people many times as they abused Black people. If she could use that word, with all the bad memories that it had to have carried for her, then why couldn't I?

In addition to that, I've heard every single person in my family use the word at least once. On both sides of my family. Even my father's siblings, most of whom were born and raised in Yazoo City, Mississippi use the word. My 95-year old great-aunt Irola, who still lives in Yazoo City, once referred to my father as a nigga in front of me. If they felt comfortable saying it, why couldn't I?

I was not one to espouse the whole belief that blacks have appropriated the term and now use it as a term of familiarity or kinship. As I said, I did sometimes use it in that context, but I used it in negative contexts also. Honestly, I think that whole theory is just bullshit. It's a way for blacks, who love to use the term (like me), to make themselves feel better about saying a word that is obviously negative. To me, it's saying that "f*ck" isn't a bad word because it supposedly once meant, "Fornication Upon Consent of the King." Yeah, right. Whatever. We all know f*ck is a curse word, and we all know that nigga is a bad word too. But many of us use it because we can. Because we're grown ass adults, and just like we feel we have every right to use other expletives in appropriate situations, we feel like we have the right to use this one too. If I did meet an African-American who didn't like the word, I did respect their individual preference, and I would refrain from using it in their presence. (After thinking, "these uppity ass niggas kill me.")

And of course, since I am human and full of fatal flaws, errors, and double-standards, I was constantly ready to fight any non-black person who I heard using the word. I know some opponents of the word like to say, "Well, you can't use it and expect for them not to." I thought/think that's bullshit too. My mother, on many occasions, has called me all kinds of unpleasant names in fits of rage. However, if she ever heard anyone use any of those names when referring to me, I'm pretty sure I'd be on Myspace soliciting for funds for her bail. That's how I felt about nigga. Amongst Black folks (family) it can be said. But if you're not black (and ESPECIALLY if you're white), I'd start referring to myself in the third person ("Shannon is getting very upset right now. Shannon can no longer be held responsible for any of her actions."), slathering on vaseline, and removing my earrings. Because, basically, it was on........nigga.

That was my story, and I was sticking to it. When I heard the news earlier this week of how a group of African-Americans in Wisconsin had supposedly held a funeral for the word, I fell into a fit of laughter. Hey, if they didn't want to use it, then more power to them, but it was still an active part of my vocabulary. And I was using it. Frequently. Constantly. If you didn't like it, two fingers to the side.............nigga.

At least, that was my story until about two hours ago. While feeding my Myspace addiction, I came across a bulletin which contained an entire episode of the popular television show The Boondocks, which is derived from my favorite cartoon strip of the same name, by the brilliant Aaron McGruder. It was the infamous episode where Martin Luther King was brought out of a 40-year coma to find the black community in complete disrepair and disarray. He is, of course, flabbergasted by the behaviors and beliefs of so many African-Americans, and eventually his anger boils over in an impromptu speech he gives at a party/rally.

"You don't want to be a nigger cause niggers are walking contradictions. Niggers are full of unfulfilled ambitions. Niggers wax and wane. Niggers love to complain. Niggers love to hear themselves talk but hate to explain. Niggers love being another man's judge and jury. Niggers procrastinate until it's time to worry. Niggers love to be late. Niggers hate to hurry. Black Entertainment Television is the worst thing I've seen in my life. I've seen what's around the corner. I see what's beyond the horizon and I promise you, you niggers have nothing to celebrate. And no, I won't get there with you. I'm going to Canada."

Ouch. The first time I saw that episode; I couldn't stop laughing. The very thought of MLK using the word nigger was more than I could handle! And the fact that so many of our supposed "black leaders" were going crazy over it only added fuel to its hilarity! But for some reason, this time it was different. I wasn't laughing. I was hurt. Everytime he said the word "nigger," I winced in pain. It was like some kind of venom. It wasn't casual, cute, or common. It wasn't meaningless, funny, or understandable. It was terrible. Nobody would want to be called nigger by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Why? Because it's not a nice word and the very notion that what Dr. King would see if he walked into the year 2006 would cause him to call us niggers, hit me like a ton of bricks.

Suddenly, I had a very hard time imagining myself using the word. I tried to give myself the same explanations that I'd given to other blacks about why I used the word, but suddenly, all those explanations seemed silly and vapid. Yes, my great-grandma and grandmother had used the term. But they also loved "Amos & Andy" when it was on television. Yes, my great-aunt used the word, but if you asked her about the status of Blacks in America, she'd say that we are treated like kings and queens. (And you probably would too if you were a 95-year old woman who's lived in Mississippi all your life.) Certainly we, as a people, have grown since then. Yes, the word did add a certain uumph to any sentence, but I know my vocabulary is broad enough so that I can add seasoning to statements without using that word.

So, I've decided to stop using it. Yep, just like that. Now, just like any other bad habit, it will be hard for me to break, and I can't promise that I'll never use it again. Hell, one week from now, I might totally relapse and say to myself, "f*ck it, I'm grown, and I'm using it..........nigga." But I doubt that will be the case. And that doesn't mean I'm going to judge black people who do use the word. This is about a personal conviction. No more nigga for me. How about you..........sista?

You have been tuned in to The Evolution of Black Girl Pain. Come back next week for another exciting episode