The "N-Word"

The Sacred, Profane, and Taboo

Shiloh Hendrix is a nasty, unrepentant bigot. We have the footage. The woman called a small child the “N-word” in a public playground, and, when challenged on her behavior by a bystander who was openly recording the entire encounter, she doubled down, repeating the word a couple more times with a defiant smirk on her face. This was a performance. Ms. Hendrix had to have known the video would be posted online and that there’d be a massive reaction. So, it’s a bit rich that she now claims victimhood, having reaped the whirlwind—and it’s downright appalling that her crowdfunding campaign, at this writing, has raised over $700,000. A disturbing number of people think Hendrix was justified in spewing her bile, and that she’s somehow a martyr for free speech. She’s a nasty, unrepentant bigot. She fucked around and found out. But, this is America. We have seen what’s been unleashed in the UK, where there is no right to free speech, and the cops can turn up at your door for an eight year-old tweet, or some other “non-crime hate incident.” But not in the U. S. of A. No sir. We have the First Amendment. This here’s America: land of the free, home of the brazen.

Free Speech Martyr Shiloh Hendrix…and offspring

What kind of person would rush to Hendrix’s aid, and contribute to her crowdfunding campaign? Certainly quite a few bigots. But for that large a sum to come together, I have to think there were contributors who opened their wallets for other reasons. Probably a good number of trolls and shit-stirrers who’d pitch in a few bucks just to watch the hysteria rise, along with the donations tally. There might be some free speech absolutists chipping in who believe that no one in America should be destroyed for expressing even the most abhorrent views. And there might be some folks of the white persuasion who might anonymously toss Hendrix a few bucks simply because they’re tired. Maybe there’s something to the notion of “black fatigue,” a topic of great interest at the moment. My opinion? What Hendrix did is indefensible. She certainly must have blurted out the “N-word” at the little kid who was allegedly rifling through her bag, because the bystander who pulled out his phone to video his confrontation with her heard it. All Hendrix needed to do was shut her mouth, gather up her kid, and leave—but she chose instead to face the camera and double—nay—triple down. It was an ugly thing to do and she knew it would get an ugly reaction. Actions have consequences. Hendrix should land on her feet—but her attempts at garnering public sympathy as a victim and free speech martyr are less than convincing.

There are many who have suffered far worse fates than Hendrix for merely uttering the “N-word,” or, for that matter, a word that sounds like the “N-word,” over the past few years. The criminal law professor who used the word to teach hate speech and hate crime law, was reported by “triggered” students, and subsequently disciplined, suspended and forced to go through sensitivity training. Or the linguistics teacher presenting a study of hesitation words employed by various languages, who lost his position because he said aloud a Chinese word that sounded like the “N-word” (the word was negga—incidentally also the last name of a prominent black film star: Ruth Negga).

So here’s the question: is there ever a circumstance, or a context, in which a white person might reasonably be permitted justification for speaking THAT WORD? Or is this an absolute rule? While tussling with this essay, I wracked my brain trying to come up with another word in our current culture that has been rendered as radioactive, as taboo as the “N-word.” I honestly couldn’t think of one. I couldn’t think of a curse word or derogatory slur that would bring down anywhere near the kind of hellfire and damnation if uttered by the wrong person.

I’ve met Gen Z gay boys who get triggered by the word faggot—a word used by some gay men of my generation as a self descriptor and term of endearment. I’ve always thought that such lingo was ours, as gay people, to bandy about—or not—amongst ourselves—we reclaimed certain words once used to abuse us, defanging them; taking away their sting. So I kind of get what I hear black people say about the “N-word.” They use it within their community, and in their music and culture. They use it as a way of taking ownership of the word once used to demean and destroy. For many black people, it is a term of endearment, a colloquial way of talking to and about each other. In his stand up, it’s Dave Chappelle’s every other word. He uses it, hilariously, to refer to anybody, regardless of race.

So, it’s not the word itself, then. If THE WORD itself, uttered by anyone, anytime, incited such emotion and rage, it wouldn’t be uttered, ever. Since it’s used fairly ubiquitously amongst black people, mostly with ease and humor, then it’s not THE WORD, but who utters it, that makes it problematic. The prohibition is absolute and seemingly sacrosanct: white people simply cannot use THE WORD, in any context, under any circumstances, ever. Why would anyone want to use that word? It’s a hideous word, with a hideous history, and it’s perfectly reasonable to assume that coming from a white person the word would be disturbing and upsetting to black people. Ms. Hendrix demonstrated perfectly just how vile and nasty it can be. I personally think it’s great that she exposed herself on camera for all to see and hear. Better out than in, I say. This way you know who you’re dealing with. Does it bother me that she’s profiting from the debacle? Yeah, but we live in an America where any opportunist willing to make a spectacle of his/her/their self can cash in on his/her/their fifteen minutes. This is the country where the “Hawk-Tuah” girl became a star, remember?

I could never assess this whole “N-word” conundrum from the complex perspective of a black person in America. I wouldn’t try. But I truly have been interested in gaining a better understanding of the complex relationship black people have with THE WORD. I turned to YouTube, and did a deep dive, listening to podcasts and long form panel conversations on various black platforms. I learned a great deal about the schisms in black culture over “ghetto” behavior and gangsta culture, including the lingo. I was introduced to the kinds of people known to enter public spaces, like airports, wearing pajamas and “bonnets,” and acting “ratchet.” I learned that, within black culture, there are two different pronunciations of the “N-word” with very different meanings: the one with the “hard R” and the one with the “soft A.” If you say “n****R,” you mean something derogatory; if you say “n***A” you’re exchanging a social nicety with another from your community. Neither pronunciation, needless to say, is acceptable out of a white person’s mouth.

I stumbled onto a panel conversation led by Jason Whitlock on his Fearless podcast, during which the participants, engaged in a discourse about “black fatigue,” made a clear distinction between those they consider “negroes” and those who, in their estimation, qualify as “ninjas” (their code for “N-word”). This particular panel, its members of a more conservative bent, reserve the appellation ninja for those they considered to be of the “ratchet” (low class/ghetto) variety. They didn’t want to say THE WORD—but the substitute, ninja, was flavored with all the disdain with which they’d have imbued THE WORD. The many shadings of significance, the diverse meanings the word has been given, and the opinions, rules and regulations around the word amongst people of color, from a variety of backgrounds—as a social/cultural phenomenon, it’s quite remarkable.

I came upon content from another black conservative, Anton Daniels, and watched a large group video chat that tackled the whole Shiloh Hendrix story—most on the panel outraged by what had happened. This gave way to an animated debate about the “N-word.” At one point, Daniels makes an attempt at bringing up the hot topic of the casual use of THE WORD in black culture—about to point out a contradiction there—but he changes his mind. A woman named Ava, however, doesn’t hesitate to take up his thread, and she lets loose:

“Well, I’ll say it. You’re mad at her for calling him the N word…but all day, every day, three sixty five, twenty four hours a day, y’all go around calling each other the “N-Word.” But when white people say it, y’all pull y’all wig off, y’all throw your hats to the ground. You have a fit. Why? If you don’t like the word, end the word. Stop keeping it going.

Y’all call white people every name under the sun. It’s okay when black people use racial slurs towards white people…Y’all can say whatever y’all want to say. But the moment somebody swings back at y’all, it’s a fucking movement.”

She has a point. If it’s such a radioactive word and so triggering, then no one should use it! Ava also insinuates that there’s a certain performative quality to the more histrionic reactions black folks have to hearing the word in certain contexts. Some are downright unhinged.

One such notable spectacle happened on a recent Piers Morgan panel—the hostile participants especially curated to guarantee a highly charged debate around the Hendrix situation and issues of free speech. One of the panelists, Lilly Gaddis, is quite simply a breathtakingly brazen and unapologetic racist. Despite the unequivocal shaming she receives from a shocked Piers Morgan, Gaddis is adamant that she should be able to use whatever word she wants in America, and that sometimes certain kinds of black people are “N-words” and should be called out as such. Lilly has to be seen to be believed. She’s like a contestant for the Miss Fascist Pageant. The real drama came when Piers challenged Gaddis to say the “N-word.” He basically dares her to do it. She hesitates…but it’s pretty clear she’s about to say it—when panelist Marc Lamont Hill, who’s been squirming throughout this exchange, has what appears to be a psychotic break. The man literally explodes, vibrating with such intensity that his cam and mic begin jumping about.

Piers Morgan, Myron Gaines, Marc Lamont Hill, Lilly Gaddis, and Rikki Schlott

Hill howls that this woman is not to be permitted to say THAT WORD, which would cause him "racial harm;” and yet—half a breath later—he describes himself as an “N-word,” followed by savagely calling the one other person of color on the panel, Myron Gaines, an “Uncle Tom.” For a man who seems about to spontaneously combust at the prospect of a white girl saying the “N-word” in his presence, Marc Lamont Hill managed to spit it out loud and clear—adding a bonus racial slur without even trying. Just watch the clip—it’s unhinged. Rather than “platform” another Shiloh Hendrix, and allow her to go viral saying THE WORD, he jumps up and down and screams it himself. So, your utterance of THE WORD doesn’t cause you “harm?” What are you protecting, sir? Why is it any better for you or the black community, rather than witnessing a real life bigot outing herself, to let her trigger you into a full-on hissy fit on live television, in which you spew the dreaded slur yourself (calling yourself a n****r) and then insult the one other black person present for good measure? Mr. Hill needs to watch some footage of James Baldwin back in the day, dealing with bigots in public forums far less hospitable than Piers Morgan’s clickbait circus, and cultivate some dignity.

Look, I don’t want to use the word, and I don’t get why other people would. But it’s a word, not an incantation. There have to be occasions, even rare ones, where it’s permissible for non-blacks to use THE WORD—such as teachers being able to use proper terms, and teach truthfully without fear of reprisals. I was in a workshop of a musical a decade ago about the landmark Loving vs. Virginia case. One of my two roles in this powerful show was that of a despicable redneck sheriff; truly the embodiment of everything vile and racist. It was not an easy thing to speak the lines required by the role, in a company of actors of color—these included numerous utterances of the “N-word.” This was 2015, and while we had to grapple as a company with the dark themes of this important story, the story deserved to be told truthfully, warts, “N-words” and all—and it was. If we were to attempt this show in 2025, the black authors of the piece would be advised to remove every “N-word” from the script. In today’s climate, I doubt that trigger warnings and program notes would be enough for the delicate sensibilities of people like Marc Lamont Hill. If a white person is witnessed in public using the “N-Word”—even an actor in a depiction intended to dramatize the evils of racism—untold “harm” could be caused! Certainly disruption would plague the production; protests from triggered “N-word” absolutists would erupt.

So, I’m back to the question: is there any permissible context in which a white person could utter the “N-word” in 2025? Well, this leads me to my closing anecdote. In 2019, one of the last shows I did before the pandemic was a great little play with a small cast, at a lovely small regional theatre. It was a diverse cast of different races and ages. From day one we all hit it off, and spent lots of fun time together outside of work. The one woman in the company was also one of two black actors in the play. Some of the actors had family in for opening night, including this young woman’s mother, who had been a prominent civil rights lawyer and a judge. After the show we gathered at the cast house, and I found myself in lively conversation with the actress, her mother, and the other black actor in the company, with whom I had developed what would become a lasting friendship.

I was sharing some stories about my growing up in an oddball family, with a wonderful, progressive single mother, in a conservative New England community in the ‘70s. My older brother, younger sister and I all got picked on as kids. I was, from a very young age, what was then called a “sissy,” and was relentlessly bullied. Our family was Jewish (not many of us in that town), and my brother got the antisemitic bullying at school. My little sister, who’d been adopted as an infant when I was four, was mixed race, and one of the only brown faces in the community. You can imagine what she went through. I decided to share a great story about my Mom, that she herself used to tell a lot; a story I’ve always been proud of. So I shared.

Trigger Warning: In order to share all this properly, I will be writing out THE N-WORD below. Prepare yourself if you need, but it’s important that I do so.

One day when school let out, my mother was at home cooking. I and my siblings were all in grade school, so we were still kids. One by one we arrived at home, each one of us crying, bruised and dirty, the result of our individual scuffles with the bullies. Mom gathered us to her, put her arms around us all, and broke through the pain of the moment by comically and cheerfully exclaiming:

“Well, well, well. What DO we have here? A hebe, a fag, and a nigger! Whatever shall we do??”

We laughed, she tickled us, and then took us all out for ice cream. My mother wanted to teach us that words had no power over us, and neither did the ignorant assholes who used them against us. And more than that, she wanted to assure her three misfits we were loved—and we were.

The actresses’ mother, a woman of my vintage, nodded, smiling, totally understanding the message of the tale, as did my friend, the other actor at the table. But this actress? The moment I said THE WORD, she had a sudden, silent film actor’s exaggerated reaction—her eyes wide, her mouth gaping open—like an Edvard Munch painting. We all noticed this paroxysm, but since the actress said nothing about it, none of us remarked on it, and the evening ended cordially. Next day, I received a long, terse email from her, letting me know how shocking and upsetting it had been to hear me say THE WORD, and how she was still in a very emotional state from the experience (thus the email, as she couldn’t face me). She wanted me to know the impact my actions had, and how hurt she was. I wrote her back, thanked her for her honesty, although I expressed a wish that she might have said something in the moment—it could have been a valuable conversation for all present. I expressed regret that I’d upset her—but I didn’t apologize for telling the story as I did.

That story teaches that we shouldn’t, and needn’t, give words the power to shatter us, and it remains for me emblematic of the woman my mother was. None of us would have come through those early years without her love, wisdom and good humor. I also pointed out in my response that the actress hadn’t flinched at the Jewish slur and the gay slur that preceded THAT WORD in my story. Interesting.

Long story short—it really bothered her that I hadn’t apologized as she’d wished. She went to the other actor who’d been there, asking him if he thought she was overreacting. He advised her to remember who told the story. They’d both gotten to know me well and she had to know I didn’t say the word to offend the three black people I was engaging with. She remained cold to me through the rest of the run. It was too bad, but you know what? If I had done the exact same thing just three years later, it would have been an entirely different story. The actress would have reported me to the producer, or to the union, or both, for racism or micro-aggressions, and I would very likely have been fired. Nevertheless, I still stand behind the story, what it means, why my mother used THE WORD, and why I uttered it in telling the story to the people I told it to.

Ultimately, I believe that whenever enforced regulation of speech, censorship, and the weaponization of language become pervasive in a culture, it becomes less and less about righting historical wrongs, or rooting out bigotry and hatred. It becomes about power. I just wish that if a word is to be endowed with the kind of power and significance that the “N-word” has been, and if only one group of people are ever permitted to use it (or abuse it)…I just wish it was a different word. THAT WORD is such an ugly and unworthy word.