Stop Saying Nigga? NIGGA PLEASE!

   

 For years now we have fought this matter out.  While I was reticent to go down this road once again, as an African American who is proud to have a bunch of people to call “My Niggaz”, I felt it necessary to declare where I sit and stand on this matter.
      I’m a 44 year old black man who grew up saying nigga just like other black folk.  Although I am sensitive that it is difficult to advance in most business environments when you can’t control the use of the word, I am also of the mindset that most of us who use it know when and where it is acceptable.

Ethiopian Model Sara Nuru 

      When I think about what it means to be black in America, I have to reflect on my journey towards blackness and the things that make me proud of who I am, where I have come from and how that impacts my perspective.   In high school, a few jokesters dubbed me “Ether” because I look like an Ethiopian to them.  I have never researched my roots to know one way or another which African nation I derive from, but Ethiopians are some of the most beautiful people on earth.      For some of us, simply embracing our slave roots is a struggle. I  get sad for  people who lived in the projects like me (maybe even with me), but deny where they come from (you know who you are).  But you know what?  Them is my niggaz too!    
     I am proud to be the root of those bad ass African slaves who had the endurance of spirit to survive so that my nigga kids could live on this earth and be so damn incredible to watch grow up.  I smile when I think about how them niggaz took the intestines from the pig because that was what slave owners gave slaves to eat.  Now those guts are a seasonal treat and we’ll pay a premium price to any soul food place that does them well.
  The spirit of blackness for me is the spirit of pride that survived the Middle Passage, that survived slavery and that endures inequity in education.  Just as we turned the shame of pig guts into the pride of chitlins,  we turned the shame of being called a nigger in to the pride of being able to say “look at my niggaz” when we see a re-run of Soul Train.  I think back to how some of them crazy dancing niggaz made it cool  to be black…..finally.   

Now, I realize that I could watch Soul Train and choose to say ,“look at my black people” , but it simply does not have the same emphasis as “look at my niggaz”.
      I was watching a movie on cable where some black dude pulls up to a couple of white teens at a stop light and gives them the head bob (chin up instead of down) and then says, “whatsup my niggaz”.  The white kids sit at the light when the brotha' drives off  simultaneously break out into celebration saying; “he called us my niggaz”.  Niggaz define cool in America. We have for a while.  Not that cool means a damn thing, but shit…..its cool.      I could stop saying Nigga.  At times I have no choice.  I could give up chitlins.  I like  buche' (hog maws/pig stomach) a little more anyway.  I may not be able to resist a guv’ment cheese sandwich, so don’t ask me to.  Yet, when I think about giving up any of these things that endear me to my black experience, I find myself  stuck with only one thought.         NIGGA PLEASE!    
     But I could be wrong.