Nigger: – “used as an insulting and contemptuous term for a black person.” – Merriam-Webster
Let me preface this blog by stating candidly, and as emphatic as possible, I have NEVER uttered what I will refer to subsequently as the “N” word. There are myriad reasons for not doing so to include, but not be limited to the manner in which I was raised and as well as my personal experiences.
The very first time I recall hearing the “N” I was a sixth grader at McKenzie Elementary in Florence, South Carolina. During that school year, I was one of fifteen African-American (Negros was the acceptable moniker at this time) students to integrate the school system. This was the year immediately after the Civil Rights Act was signed.
One day during the first week of school, I was walking with a friend, Theodore Lester, up a flight of stairs, when a white kid blurted out “Look, there are two ‘Ns.” Before I could gather myself and decide what my course of action would be, Theodore responded in-kind by asking “Where, where?” The white kid, who obviously wasn’t bright, was so flabbergasted by Theodore’s response that he froze in his tracks while we continued on our merry way.
A few weeks after this incident, another friend, James Lawrence Smith, and I met during recess. He had a puzzle look on his faced and I inquired as to what was wrong. He then presented me with a note which read: “You ‘Ns’ better not show up to school tomorrow because the KKK will be here.” The note also had a rather crude depiction of a confederate flag on it.
I asked Lawrence where he had gotten the note. He pointed out a chubby white kid by the name of Carl Hill. Being the military brat that I was, I did my proper due diligence and then waited until I could get an opportunity to meet with him alone. The opportunity presented itself later that afternoon; I asked Carl what time the KKK was going to be at the school, because I wanted to insure that both the Black Panthers and Black Muslims were there as well. Needless to say, the KKK did not come.
I incurred no more incidents with respect to the “N” for the remainder of the school year; with one exception, which did not occur on the school proper. During the spring of that year, I made a little more history within the city by becoming the first African-American kid to play in the Dixie Youth Little League.
Before our season began, we scrimmaged against a team from another league. On that day, I was playing shortstop when I went very deep in the hole (for you non-baseball aficionados that would be the area between shortstop and third base, abutting the outfield) and made an outstanding back-hand snag of a grounder, pirouetted and threw a bullet to first in time to get the batter out.
Within seconds of the play, a kid who was scheduled to bat next yelled out “who does that “N” think he is? I ignored him and as I walking back to our dugout, I was met by my coach, Tommy Johnson, who is now a Hall of Fame Basketball coach in the state of South Carolina, and he put his arms around and asked if I was alright.
I remained cool, calm and collected because I was prepped by family, friends and others to expect things such as what had occurred. I was also aware of the indignities that the great Jackie Robinson and others of color had experienced in the major leagues while playing the sport which I truly enjoyed. That being said, I asked Coach Johnson if I could pitch the next inning.
The first batter I faced was the kid who called me the “N” word. I “accidentally” beaned him on the second pitch. Prior to leaving the dugout, I told two teammates (twins Joe and Jim O’Connor) what I was going to do so that if things went south, I wanted to quickly have access to a bat or two. The batter went to first and that was the end of it.
At the beginning of my junior year at McClenaghan High School, also in Florence, I ran for president of the class. There were four individuals on the ballot, three blacks (Terry Alexander, Lawrence and I) and one white guy (Ricky Rainwater). Conventional wisdom would lead some to believe there would be no way for me to win as the blacks would split their votes which would allow for an easy victory for Rainwater.
What Rainwater and others did not know is that I could count! I knew that if I received 40% of the white vote (which was attainable, because I knew that a lot of the white kids didn’t like Rainwater) and get 35-40% of the black vote I would win. I also employed two campaign managers, Debbie Paige and Michael Capotowski – a black and white, respectively).
Long story short, I got elected. Word came back to me that Rainwater pronounced that he was seriously perturbed because he lost to a “N.” Last year, the former mayor of Midland, Alabama, after losing her election to an African-American posted on Facebook a derogatory message similar to that of Rainwater’s declaration.
There are many among us, especially those who are enamored with the rap genre, which seems to think that using the “N” is cool or should be accepted within the American lexicon. I am not, nor will I ever be, an adherent to such folly.
The truth of the matter is the “N” was an invention white folks here in the United States. James Baldwin says it so poignantly and I respectfully suggest that the use of the word and/or any of its derivatives, no matter how they are spelled or pronounced, should be eradicated from daily usage and be spoken – NEVERMORE!