[tw: racism.] “Nigger.”
I am experiencing a type of anger I have never felt before.
I was called a nigger tonight.
I was standing on the balcony of an apartment party, alone and overlooking other apartment balconies. On the ground floor below me were two white men, one obviously drunk and the other obviously not.
“Hey man, fuck you,” one said to me, stumbling.
I was taken aback. “… Why?” I asked. Why would he say that to me?
“Seriously, fuck you.” He turned towards a plant pot. “I’m gonna pee in this plant pot.” His friend then insinuated that the plant he was peeing on was my mother.
That’s when two of my friends stepped out onto the balcony as well. Fast-forward through the three of us yelling condescending statements at the two drunk guys.
“Seriously though,” I asked. “Why would you say ‘fuck you’ to me?”
“Because you’re a nigger.”
I felt like everything in that moment slowed down. The world might have stopped for a few seconds, during which I flipped through the “What-To-Do” pamphlet in my mind for a way to react to this situation. I didn’t find anything. I didn’t know what to do or what to say. I had never been called that word before.
“What did you say?” I yelled back in a disbelief.
“You heard me you fucking nigger!” I looked over at his sober friend. He nodded in agreement, a disgusted scowl on his face.
My (white) friends paused. They didn’t know what to say either. They tried their best to defend me by throwing condescending, comical taunts at the racists, but they were ineffective. I called him disgusting. Ugly. Racist. Ignorant. But I was slowly, defeatedly realizing that no matter what I called him, nothing could equate to the weight of the word he had called me.
Drunkie didn’t seem bothered until I called him a bigot.
Then, in an unexpected turn of events, he became defensive. “What’s a bigot? Why would you say that to me? You guys are over here making fun of me for no reason. Hey man, look. I have nothing against you. You’re trying to call me names because of the color of my skin. I’m not judging. Bla bla bla I’m an asshole pretending to be sincere…”
From behind us, people from inside the apartment suddenly told us we had to get off the balcony. So my friends left. And as soon as they did, the name calling began again, from both of the men this time. “Darkie… faggot… All I see is your teeth… nigger…”
The most I could say to them in that moment was “fuck you.” I had no educated response for them then. I couldn’t give them a sociological lashing or a history lesson. I couldn’t reason with them. Sitting here typing this now, I realize that there is no word for the white race (or possibly any other race?) that holds the historical and hateful magnitude as the word nigger. What was I going to call them? Crackers? A salty food?
And then, they said the only thing that could make the situation worse: “I think you should still be in chains.” And I know they meant it. The hatred in their eyes told me they were speaking from a place of personal truth.
In the end, we ended up yelling senselessly at each other until my friends pulled me off the balcony. They tried to make me feel better:
“Don’t let it get to you…”
“Gosh, I can’t believe that still exists…”
Right. But there was nothing they could say. They wouldn’t understand how I felt. On their most empathetic and sympathetic days, they will never truly be able to relate to how I feel right now.
On my way out of the apartment, I ran into the two guys. Luckily for me, they were ahead of me - walking in the direction I had planned on walking - but they didn’t see me. I’ve never wanted to physically attack anyone before that moment. But honestly, I knew the two, muscular guys would probably kill me. In fact, I was honestly afraid they would try to hurt me if they saw me. So going in the opposite direction, cautiously looking over my shoulder, I hurriedly walked the long way home.
And now I’m angry. And I am sad. And I feel defeated. I do not understand how someone who has never met me can hate me so much without provocation. I am angry that there were two racist white people. What does that mean? Do they sit around with their other white friends talking about how much they hate “niggers?” Or was it some kind of unspoken idea that they both understood?
I am angry that none of my white friends (and I have many) will never understand this feeling. I am angry that up to now, I have never felt this. I am angry that years of learning about slavery and civil rights struggles as a child and teenager made me desensitized and somewhat indifferent to racism. I am angry that people think racism is a thing of the past. I am angry that people think that words are so transformative that they can use the word nigga freely and mindlessly without thinking it’s hurtful. I am angry that so many youth are apathetic to the inequalities still very prevalent in our society. I am angry that people are/will be surprised that I, of all people, was called a nigger - as if, because I am educated, or suburban, or more in tune with white American culture, that I am inherently less “niggerish.” As if anyone deserves to be called that.
I am angry that black people receive harsher prison sentences in America for committing the same crimes as whites, and that, although statistics have proven that more drugs are sold and used by whites than blacks, there are far more blacks being imprisoned for drug-related crimes.
I am saddened that in that moment, I could not articulate any of these things. I am sad that two syllables have left me sitting here, stripped and bare. I am sad that some people are going to read this and think I am overreacting. I am sad that white people I know think they are devoid of racist ideals, yet still believe most blacks are “cool” or “lazy” or “tough” (read: violent) or “ghetto” by choice.
I am sad that for a while, I’m not going to be able to look at a white person and wonder if, in the back of their minds, they are racist too, and how many drinks will it take for them to call me a nigger?
(via abortionplexvx)
