Tuesday, March 17, 2015

A Nigger experience


It's 2:30 a.m. and finally, I have been compelled to write about the word Nigger.

And in the spirit of the late, great way-way-way ahead of his time, comedian Richard Pryor, I say, "Nigger, Nigger, Nigger, Nigger, Nigger, Nigger."

Now what? So what?

I said it. I say it often. I grew up saying it in my St. Albans, Queens, N.Y. neighborhood. I said it at my predominantly black college, Hampton Institute, now Hampton University in Virginia.

My friends said it, my family said it, and that's right, niggers in the parks in which I played basketball, baseball and football, said it,. too.

As a black man, I never, ever, not once, you get it, freaked out or was offended by its use until it the topic of whether or not it should be used became news.

What made me write this was a CNN discussion Monday night moderated by Don Lemon. The panelists were Ben Ferguson, a white man unbeknownst to me until about 15 minutes ago; Marc Hill, a black professor at Atlanta's Morehouse College, a predominantly black institution; and Trinidad Jame, a black rapper, whom I'd never heard before 15 minutes ago.

I didn't see the CNN discussion, although I wanted to, but I was watching basketball, tending to our five dogs and searching the internet for jobs. I watched a clip on the CNN website and that four-minute segment was enough for me. I'm glad brother Hill and James were there to represent and combat the lunacy of Ferguson (the idiot, not the city).

I'm so glad I didn't see the entire piece because less than two minutes of this so-called educated idiotic Ferguson would have so disappointed me.

He had the audacity to say that James' of the word, Nigger (yeah I said it, so what?) was the reason the rapper was on the show. There are so many derogatory words I'd like to use to Ferguson (in these days and times an ironic name and geographic location), but I'll resist.

I am so tired of white people saying the word, Nigger, should be dropped. In fact, there are some African-Americans who believe the word somehow should be removed from society's lexicon, as if it doesn't exist or never existed.

First of all, in my opinion, Mr. Ferguson (boy, it almost hurt to give this sucker that much respect), and those black people who want the word's existence deleted, the word Nigger never will disappear. So forget about that concept.

It's a part of black culture, and if my thinking is correct, African-American people never will let it die. For many of us, it's often a term of endearment. It's a word whose versatility allows it to be used in many contexts.

I grew up, hearing people, including my late father, Chalmers McNeal, say, "That's my nigger." Even more times, he'd say to me, "You're always my horse, if you never win a race."

I've heard brothers say, "Nigger, if you don't quit fouling me, I'm gonna (sp) whip your ass."

I had one prominant white NBA executive say to me, "what's up, Nig?"

He surprised the hell out of me. Quickly, I said to the brother (you know, there are whites to whom we afford the love and respect calling them brothers, "What did you say? Where did you get that shit from?"

He told me and he'd heard one of our friends often say it, and clearly he felt comfortable enough with me to say it. But I told him not to say it again. And he never did in that context, which initially was one of love.

But the same brother, who grew up in a white, often racist neighborhood, but played mega-ball with blacks, recalled a conversation, as a young NBA player, he'd had with his father.

I'm sure this wasn't the entire conversation, but his pops, whom I met before he died, said, "Bleep the Niggers."

Basically his pops was saying, 'Forget all the dumb stuff, play your game and stop playing scared.'

The names in that conversation aren't important, but if I used them, some knucklehead would use them against this brother.

There are a lot of whites who never have spent any true significant time inside black society, so they have no concept of how we think, much less why we think what we think. Some, probably don't think we think. But ultimately I can't be concerned with that level of ignorance.

I know it's there, but who has the time to go there?

The fact is, as black folk, most of us probably know considerably more about whites than they do about us. Shoot, we had to climb mountains to get a damned month (Black History Month), and is it a coincidence that it's the year's shortest? Hell, if I know.

But as Arsenio Hall used to say, it's one of those things that make you say, "Hmmm."

I could write all day about race and the word Nigger (yeah, I said it.) I don't know about other black folk, but one of my first thoughts about white society and the word Nigger was, "Damn, you want to take the word away from us? What, as a race we haven't given up enough? Now you're snatching words? Kiss my ass. There are three words for you. You want those, too? They are all yours."

It's important to realize, I grew up in the '60's and '70's. One of the first albums (for you young folk, DJ's use them to scratch and the discs were precursors to today's CD's)I bought in my life (1970) was by The Last Poets.

It featured cuts such as, "When the revolution comes"; "New York, New York, the big apple"; "Wake up, Niggers"; "Run, Nigger"; "Niggers are scared of revolution"; "Black Thighs"; and On the Subway."

The Last Poets were rappers before the legendary Sugar Hill Gang. I was a music major, a vocal major who sang in Borough-Wide and All-City Chorus back in the day. At the same time I was listening to the spoken word, I was singing, listening and trying to play songs with music by Bach and Beethoven.

At the same time, I was reading newspapers distributed by the Black Panther Party and Muhammad Speaks, which was written by members of a group often called the 'Black Muslims.'

My high school, Andrew Jackson (now Campus Magnet) was undergoing a radical racial population shift. There were race riots and days off because of bomb threats supposedly made by a group called 'the Weathermen.' They were an offshoot of what was described as a radical group called Students for a Democratic America.

My exposures were diverse and unique. I had black friends like Bernard Kellam, Lennie Carlisle, the late Ronald Heyward, one of the best athletes and alto sax players I've ever seen and heard). Then were my friends friends like Seth Figman and David (Bobo) Berlinsky. There were days when I'd sport yarmulkes in solidarity with their Jewish heritage.

I had friends like Cardlin Martin and Michael Kornegay, who got caught up and used heroin, and Leon and Gregory Guthrie, whose pops moved the family from our block on 193rd Street in St. Albans to North Carolina, so they didn't caught up.

Cardlin Martin's father was a black man from St. Louis, who was another father figure for me, even though my pops was right there. Martin's mother was white, born in France, I believe and a sweet, sweet woman. I spent the night over their house on weekends almost as much as I lived at home.

Cardlin was confused as hell, but brighter than bright and was my Dr. Doolittle. The guy had a talent and love of animals and should have become a veterinarian. However, he has spent much of his life in prison. I don't know if he's dead or alive.

All of this to say, there are many experiences and exposures that shape us and make us who we are.

And if I want to call my friends, my Niggers, or my Niggas, that's what I'm gonna do. And nobody, certainly not this Ben Ferguson fraud or Ben Carson or Bennie and the Jets is going to change that. And whether it has 'ers' or 'as' or 'az' at the end doesn't mean a damned thing to me.

It's not the word, it is the feeling and the sentiment behind the word. Just like all the rest of the words.

And if I have one word of advice for white folk, don't ever call an African-American, Nigger.

That's our word, whether some people like it or not. Nigger, Nigger, Nigger, Nigger. Nigger.

Yeah I said it again. RIP Mr. Pryor.

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