There has long been a painful and emotional debate within the Black community – my community – about the use of the N-word. Is it appropriate to use? Who, if anyone, has the right to say it? Is there ever a context in which the word is acceptable, or does its history carry too much pain for it to be reclaimed?
I won’t pretend to have all the answers. I can’t tell you definitively whether the word should be used or who can or cannot say it. I also can’t speak for the full weight of its historical trauma, but I can speak from my own experience as a 36-year-old Black man who grew up hearing the word regularly – in my neighborhood, in my music, and in my daily life. I came of age in an environment where the N-word was common, even casual – often spoken by people of color, not just Black folks. By the time I was growing up, NWA had already brought the term into mainstream American culture. The word wasn’t hidden. It was shouted, chanted, and repeated until it became normalized in many circles.
To me and many others in my generation, the N-word has always been part of our world – in our language, our culture, and our identity. But today, things feel different. The word isn’t just confined to our neighborhoods anymore. Now it seems like everyone is using it in every context, regardless of their background or connection to its history. Black culture drives popular culture, and in that influence, many outside the community have adopted the language, style, and even the pain – without understanding it.
Some say imitation is the highest form of flattery, but when it comes to the word, the flattery can feel more like theft. Even a word that some feel is so ugly can’t just be called our own.
I’ve gone to the elders in my community to learn more. I’ve asked them to help me understand the pain they associate with the word. Because while I’ve heard the stories, I didn’t live through segregation. I didn’t feel the sting of that word being used to dehumanize, terrorize, and oppress in the same way they did. Their pain is real, even if I didn’t directly experience it.
So I ask them honestly – how can I not use the word when it’s all I’ve ever known? I’ve learned to show them respect by not using it around them, or by reducing my own usage. But still, I struggle with the complexity. I want to understand how we got here – how a word with so much hate behind it became part of everyday conversation.
It’s important to acknowledge that my generation didn’t invent the casual use of the word – we inherited it. We watched how it was used before us, especially in hip-hop and rap music. Those platforms amplified the word to the point where it now feels embedded in youth culture, regardless of race. In some circles, it’s used as a term of endearment, camaraderie, or even empowerment. But that doesn’t erase the fact that, for many, it remains a symbol of hate.
Have we gone too far to go back? Can we, as a community, truly honor the struggle and suffering of those who came before us while still embracing a word that once defined their oppression? Can we ever find common ground between the youth who see it as a part of their identity and the elders who see it as a reminder of injustice?
I didn’t have the answers. I don’t have the answers. But I know this much: something needs to change. There’s too much derision between our elders and our youth – too much misunderstanding, too much pain, and not enough respect.
If we want to grow as a community, we need to open honest conversation. We need to educate ourselves on the past, even if it’s painful – but also respect the present to build a brighter future. We need to act. We need to ask ourselves: What does the N-word really mean to us? What are we willing to sacrifice to come together?
Words have power. And how we choose to use them will define who we are.
Anthony Fain is the president of the Black Prisoner’s Caucus at the Airway Heights Corrections Center.