You're a Nigga

That’s what my boys yelled when Jacob, who had never played Charades before, pulled his skully over his head, sagged his pants a bit, and pretended like he was rapping. The word we gave him was rapper. The word we heard, instead, was nigger.

Pause.

Rewind 24 hours. Push play. I was at the pool Sunday enjoying my day off and getting some African sun, when out of the blue, they busted out the speakers and started blasting hip hop. The first few songs… not so bad. Chris Brown, Keyshia Cole, my favorite African song, Love is Not a Crime (I’m bringing it back to the States, you know this). But then, we broke into the Lil Wayne, Ludacris, Fabolous, Jay-Z, Jermaine Dupree, etc., and I quickly realized that the uncut version of so many radio songs are completely inappropriate for public use—so much so, that I was becoming extremely uncomfortable listening to the words of the songs I knew so well. I kept thinking, all these people here, African and Western both, are looking at me in disgust because I am the ONLY black American at this pool and this is how everyone thinks we talk.

Nigga this, Nigga that. I ain’t never ran from a nigga, Nigga what, f* a nigga. Beat that nigga. Damn.

I suddenly realized why the week before, someone at the internet café asked me if one of my parents was a nigga. And in retrospect, I know why Jacob was thought to be imitating one. Here we are talking about white Americans not knowing any better but to use the words we use for each other. Wow. We have no idea what the world thinks of us. We have no idea that in Africa, people think the word for Black American ACTUALLY IS “Nigga.” We have no idea that the only way the rest of the world sees us is through movies and videos, in which we are gangsters, strippers, and drug dealers. We have no clue… that the knowledge we take for granted that what is seen on tv is not how it really is, is the exact representation of ourselves that the rest of the world views as reality. That to everyone else in this world… we’re just a bunch of niggers.

Pause.

Let that marinate for a minute.

If you knew that you were being called a nigger by everyone else in the world, would you continue to use that word in your daily language? Would you still support rappers that use the word in every sentence? Would you continue to watch films that display blacks… display YOU as a thug or a whore?

If your answer is yes, then maybe this isn’t for you. And furthermore, you should probably ask your parents or grandparents how they feel about that, and then ask yourself again.

If your answer is no, then walk with me for a minute.

The other day, I had a (Ugandan) friend tell me one of the most profound things I had never thought of before. He said that Africans, historically, are a lot like Jews in the Bible. Enslaved, plagued with war, disease, poverty, hunger, corruption, and death. In the end, he said, it was those who stood by their faith in God that were delivered to the promise land. “For us (Africans),” he explained, “the promise land we are awaiting will be heaven. But for black Americans,” he stopped, looked away, and swallowed the lump in his throat. “For black Americans, you are already in the promise land. You just don’t realize it.”

I was speechless.

Could it really be true? Could it be that God knew all along that America would be the place where blacks would eventually be delivered from desolation? What if 300 years ago, your ancestors’ ancestors were brought here in chains so that you could be free today? Every day since I’ve been here—every single day—I see something else that makes me thank God I was born in the US. But have I been so naïve to forget just how that came about? In order for me to be born into prosperity, free from disease, war, and enslavement, my great great great grandparents had to be shackled and chained. Just like the Jews in the Old Testament… only they knew all along where and why they were going.

We still don't realize where we've come from.

Because if we knew it… if we really understood how far we’ve come… we wouldn’t be getting tangled up in the words, images, and lifestyles that put us back in chains. We wouldn’t be taking advantage of the freedom our ancestors fought and died for. Instead, we would be actively erasing the word nigga from our collective vocabulary. We would be supporting images of prosperity, education, and pride. We would be giving back to our communities and helping others so that as a people, we might share this promise land. And we would not allow the distance we have yet to travel, keep us from recognizing how far we have come… keep us from recognizing that we are the delivered ones. We are God’s chosen people. And if everything we do and say do not represent Him, then everything He has done to bring us here was in vain.

Think about it.

Now push play.