Be forewarned before reading further, there will be a few times in this diary where I will use the actual word rather than the euphemistically soft variation “the N-Word”.  If simply seeing the word, regardless of the circumstances will be offensive, then do not continue reading the diary.

I came about this diary for two specific, although not interrelated reasons.  The first was the recent death of George Carlin.  I wasn’t always the biggest Carlin fan, but he did a bit about not softening language to make it more palatable that I always thought was on the money.

The second reason was I caught about thirty minutes of the Ed Schultz show Friday while in my car.  The topic was the use of the “N-Word” by Jesse Jackson on Fox News, and included the subsequent Whoopi Goldberg, Elizabeth Hassleback dust-up while discussing whether or not the word should ever be used.  Most callers came down on the side of, not only that the word should not be used, but that we shouldn’t use any words, regardless of context or intent, if they hurt others; kind of reverse sticks-and-stones.

First, here’s the Carlin bit excerpted:

There's a condition in combat - most people know it by now. It occurs when a soldier's nervous system has reached the breaking point. In World War I it was called shell shock. Simple, honest, direct language. Two syllables. Shell Shock. Almost sounds like the guns themselves. Shell Shock!!

That was 1917. A generation passed. Then, during the Second World War, the very same combat condition was called battle fatigue. Four syllables now. It takes a little longer to say, stretches it out. The words don't seem to hurt as much. And fatigue is a softer word than shock. Shell Shock. Battle Fatigue. The condition was being euphemized.

More time passed and we got to Korea, 1950. By that time, Madison Avenue had learned well how to manipulate the language, and the same combat condition became operational exhaustion. It had been stretched out to eight syllables. It took longer to say, so the impact was reduced, and the humanity was completely squeezed out of the term. It was now absolutely sterile: operational exhaustion. It sounded like something that might happen to your car.

And then, finally, we got to Vietnam. Given the dishonesty surrounding that war, I guess it's not surprising that, at the time, the very same condition was renamed post-traumatic stress disorder. It was still eight syllables, but a hyphen had been added, and, at last, the pain had been completely buried under psycho-jargon. Post-traumatic stress disorder.

I'd be willing to bet anything that if we'd still been calling is Shell Shock, some of those Vietnam veterans might have received the attentions they needed, at the time they needed it. But it didn't happen, and I'm convinced one of the reasons was that softer language we now prefer: The New Language. The language that takes the life out of life.

Now, this isn't exactly an apt comparison.  The broader point is that by attempting to take the sting out of the words, the conditions from which the words originate never get addressed. 

A friend of mine used to tell me that I wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, which is probably why I’m about to dip a toe into the issue of race.  This is especially problematic for a heterosexual white male [not sure why the ‘heterosexual’ and ‘male’ self-identifiers are relevant other then when you refer to hitting the privilege lottery in America, this is pretty much the genetic trifecta].

I grew up in the South in the 80's and would occasionally get a glimpse at the private thoughts of others.  My high school assistant principal pulled me aside once when I was finishing lunch and, noting that I had been seated with a table of African-American kids in our self-segregated lunch room, asked me what I was doing.  When I responded with confusion to his question, he stated: "you're not supposed to be sitting with the niggers."

Another school administrator once informed me that he was sick of me "coming in here and playing Jew lawyer" with him because I occasionally had the temerity to question the wisdom of what he was telling me.

I've been on the other end as well.  A Jewish friend in college, who others referred to as "the banker", without a hint of irony I might add, was called a "greedy Jew" by me while in the midst of a Monopoly game once.  It was meant as an ironic joke, but I realized immediately that I had made a grave, grave mistake.

It happens. 

And when it does, you can never really take it back.  When Jesse Jackson dies, even if it's in 2030, somewhere in the obituary will be a mention of referring to New York as "Hymie-Town" in 1984. 

Like most people, I carry prejudices regarding many issues; some conscious and some not.  To my mind, one of the biggest setbacks out of the civil rights era has been driving discrimination underground; allowing people to spew race-based invective through things such as "code words" to convey a racially discriminatory message.  All while allowing the person to maintain plausible deniability concerning the intent of the words being used.

A few months ago, in referring to Barack Obama, Kentucky Rep. Geoff Davis stated:

“I’m going to tell you something: That boy’s finger does not need to be on the button.” 

Yes, Rep. Geoff Davis—you couldn’t make this stuff up. 

I won’t go into a long historical dissertation of how the word “boy” has been employed.  Suffice to say that it was a signal to any “uppity” black during Jim Crow to not challenge the white power structure or suffer dire consequences.  

I've come to expect the type of despicable comments evidenced by KY Rep. Geoff Davis in referring to Barack Obama as "that boy."  I can't even feign surprise at the remarks.  That's what seems to happen quite often behind Republican Party closed doors when the booze starts flowing.  It happened when MS Sen. Trent Lott made his dunderheaded remarks in 2002, that:

"I want to say this about my state: When Strom Thurmond ran for president, we voted for him. We're proud of it. And if the rest of the country had followed our lead, we wouldn't have had all these problems over all these years, either,"

But, what if Rep. Davis had said: That nigger’s finger does not need to be on the button.”  Does anyone doubt that Rep. Davis would no longer be a member of Congress if he had?  However, would it have been worse?  Both are highly offensive, but I would argue that “boy” carries with it an even stronger undercurrent of violence and subjugation.

As an aside, there’s a self-evident ridiculousness in even characterizing Sen. Obama as black, but that’s a rabbit-hole best left for another time.  Also, I'm not necessarily someone that seeks a politician's head-on-a-platter for misspeaking; but referring to a 46 year old black man, someone that very well may be the next president of the United States and leader of the free world, as "that boy" should be a career ender.  Period.  For the love of god, where's the outcry?

So, how does this all wrap around to Jesse Jackson, Ed Shultz and the "N-Word"?

First, because I was amazed that so many callers didn't see a distinction between a white person and a black person using the word.  If this isn't self-evident as to why the distinction is important, I'm not sure I'll waste any space arguing the distinction.

Is it a double standard?  Sure it is.  It's a privilege and, frankly, one of the few ones that black folks actually have.  I live in Boise, Idaho.  I often hold my girlfriend's hand when we're walking around in public.  Would a homosexual feel comfortable holding his boyfriend's hand in public in Boise, Idaho?  I doubt it.  It's a double standard.  I'm allowed to freely do something without fear of repercussions that a gay man wouldn't.  It's a privilege.

Now, whether or not black folks should be using the word is another debate altogether.  Personally, I don't think it works in the reclamation fashion of  . . . say, "queer".   But regardless of my personal belief of the effectiveness of reclaiming the word, it's not my decision to make.

Second, I don't like how something like the "N-Word" almost makes the racism palatable, or at the very least, less openly hostile.  I don't know.  It seems to me that telling a story about my assistant principal as "you're not supposed to be sitting with the 'n-word'" really places a false artifice on the situation that strips his words of their true ugliness.  Maybe I'm wrong.

However, the idea that many of the callers expressed--that we need to be protected from hurtful words seems almost diametrically wrong.  Perhaps that's because I've never found myself on the receiving end of a racial slur.

I don't know.