Yes, I say the forbidden word.
It’s so forbidden that I can’t even say it here. It’s so taboo that I don’t say it around everyone like I would my name. It’s a word that’s so secret and so precious that I can only say it in very, very intimate conversations and with a select group of people.
I feel so conflicted about it. There are times when I’m in pain when it comes out of the mouths of celebrities like Michael Richards. That hurt. But then there are times when I hear my sister or my uncle saying it and I laugh.
Some folks think the answer to discarding some of the confusion surrounding the word is to bury it. I don’t know if a symbolic burial of an inanimate object will help eliminate the drama, but at least it will alert others to the delicacy of this very confusing term.
But I still say it.
It’s so complicated. But I think it’s OK to be complicated at times. And this is one of those situations where things are going to be complicated—forever, most likely.
When I do say it, I don’t mean it to come with all of the disdain and disgust for my race that the word comes along with. I think I know enough history and I know people well enough to know how and when to use certain words. And before anyone asks, I do NOT like for others, especially those who can not relate to the pain that comes along with the word, to say it. When others use this word they don’t say it without the intent of hurting someone else.
I can only say it around certain people because only certain people know me well enough to know what I mean. It’s like a secret that those in my close group share but we don’t intend for the world to use our secret against us. We don’t want others to call us by that word because it hurts—a lot.
Just because I’m willing to admit to the blogosphere that I say a dirty, disgusting word doesn’t mean it gives others licensure to say it. Let me make it clear, it doesn’t. And if you choose to say it, it’ll probably land you in deep trouble, just ask Richards.
Like I said before, it’s complicated.