Don’t Say Nigger
Martin Luther King Day was yesterday. Great day for a great man. In addition to having a moral core that was so powerful it was probably hot to the touch, he was also a genius. His speeches and writing reveal a mind that was firing on cylinders in that alleged 90% to which the rest of us don’t often have access. Did he ever have his IQ tested? Not that it really matters, it’s just that his ability to synthesize ideas and explain them with crystal clarity to the rabble was so preternatural that we should all jump up and down smiling every time someone says his name.
On a Martin Luther King day 23 years ago, I was reading and enjoying the book ROOTS in my bed. I was 12. The word “nigger” is in that book maybe 1000 times. I realized I had never said the word “nigger.” No one ever said it in my house and my parents would have slapped me in the face and then had three heart attacks on the spot if the word ever passed my lips.
So after reading it a few times on one page, I thought to myself, “I am going to say the word ‘nigger.’” I listened to make sure that neither my parents nor my younger sister were nearby.
I inhaled through my nose, opened my mouth, and said: “Nigger.”
THAT SECOND, I heard a loud “TAAAAANG!!!!!” and the wire that held a heavy painting of a ship over my bed snapped. It fell hard on my head and cut me.
To recap; I said “nigger” for the first time on Martin Luther King Day, and a heavy painting of a ship immediately fell on my head. SUCH ARE HIS POWERS.
And that’s why I don’t say the word “nigger.”
(Also because it’s supercharged with centuries of horror and hatred and is unfit for application to human beings on God’s earth. So I guess for two reasons)
