I Changed My Mind...Nigga Tastes Great

"I calls you my nigga, cuz I got love for you."

(This is for you.)

You hypocritical fuck.

Yeah you. I'm talking to you. Cuz you know daaaaamn well that word tastes GREAT.

I don't care what side of the human race your color falls on... it just does.

The same way yelling "Oh God...fuck me harder!" goes perfectly when you've got the right bloke on the stroke...hitting the right spot at the right time and don't give a damn if you need braces and a breath mint.

You know where I'm going. Like a great red wine and a perfectly marinated seared steak...like a kiss after three too many Cosmos...like eyes looking up at you when you're getting head...some shit just belongs.

And sometimes,...sometimes... "Nigga" has it's place. And let it take it's rightful place as one of the greatest stress-relievers of all time. Because that's exactly what the fuck it is.

I agree with (insert forgotten comedic genius who said this first here). When white people use the word, "Nigger"...and mean it (let's be clear about that ...) it takes about five pounds of misplaced racist stress right out of them. NIGGER...Poof! Ahhh.... White privilege may be constantly threatened, but not as long as you can use that ace in the hole of white angst. So let's say... if, while watching the BET hip-hop countdown you're secretly pissed off you can barely pay your rent and meanwhile, "TI" is "making it rain 20's" at some stripper, you can safely say (amongst those who'll nod in agreement), "Those niggers are crazy", and POOF! ...instantly feel better about your position in life! I mean, it's gotta be blamed on something...right? It'll also stop you from doing a Pumpkin yourself and spitting on hard-working baby-momma Lequisha at Stop and Shop. (Which, for the record, would be a fucking no-no.)

As for me, I've said "nigga" only when I truly...TRULY meant it and I don't just mean for people of African decent. I've called whites, puerto ricans, asians, babies...whoever the fuck deserved it... a nigga with no pause. Sure. I know initial definition and origin of the word is...but words, as do most things in life, change. Meanings change. Intentions change. Here's what I mean.

Cunt USED to mean "to conceal or hide". It was a verb. The word became a noun when the actual hiding place became known as a cunt. Dyke? Originally, a barrier blocking passage. A faggot is a bundle of twigs intertwined. Right.

Nigger? Comes from the spanish word "Negre'." meaning "black." Now...using a white persons uncanny ability to fuck up any Spanish pronunciation, try saying that word. What does it sound like?

Get where I'm going with this?

The word Negre changed to Nigger...Nigger..changed to Nigga but for most...the buck stops there. (pun...intended.) Because the Trans-Atlantic Slavery was such a stain on humanity, the term, which distinctly separated slave from owner, was also taboo. Slaves were "niggers", owners were not.

Nigger attached itself with a pitbull grip to the self-esteem of the African descendant. A nigger was not the thing you wanted to be...or strived to be..it was what you WERE. As for the African-decendants...well...we did what we did best. As we've always done. We made lemonade out of lemons. (Or rather...chitterlins outta pig intestines, depending on how you see thangs.)

We took a word used solely by owner to property...flipped it and made it our own...but changed the pronunciation. We made it warm. We cleaned up, made curtains out of the left over scraps of pride and called it home.

Gals in the 20's giggled amongst each other when another said about the guy working on the field down the road, "Ooh. That's a big nigga right there."

A sweet young thang in Harlem in the 70's said, "Nigga please..." when some jive turkey tried to make her love come down.

Boys in the hood in the 90's proudly proclaimed, "This is my nigga!" when introducing a new jack to his peoples and them.

Later that decade, in the best argument I've ever had to date, when asked, "Why are you being such a bitch", by my fiance, I quickly turned to face him, with a neck swivel and attitude that would have made Pam Grier proud, responded with the famous black woman preface, "Nigga let me tell you something..."

"So what you want nigga...want nigga? I got a six shooter and a horse named "Trigger"," Method Man warned to his kind..or any kind that tried to test him.

And when Method said "nigga", when Biggie said "nigga", when HIP-HOP said "nigga", you knew EXACTLY what it meant. Right underneath our noses, the word... changed. It was OURS. We owned it and had won the biggest battle in the history of slavery. Then...suddenly...it changed again.

It turned into the "N-word"...and instead of the term of endearment we'd scratched and clawed for, it became an ugly and hateful again. Whites wanted to know why, if we could use the word, they couldn't... and instead of asking, "Why the fuck do you want to?" we answered like five year olds. "Because you just can't, that's why."

But Puerto Ricans can! And our answer to that is..."Cuz Puerto Ricans live in the hood and are niggas too!"

No. Stop it. Cut it out. Either explain yourself without bullshit or take the power away for the damn thing altogether. No "funerals" for a word. No substitutes. Call a spade a spade. (Pun intended.)

I'm saying it. (tap-tap...is this thing on?)

From this moment on, white people can use the word, "nigga" too. That's right I said it.

Why?

Because if you live right next door to that mutherfucker who don't do shit but smoke weed all day and live with his baby momma, no matter what his color...until he do better...he's a nigga.

If that same dude never hesitates to knock on your door to see if you want to share this blunt with him and watch Sports Center cuz he knows yours is off, no matter what his color, that's your nigga.

If he sat down and let you tell the story of your moms dying, saw you cry and never told a soul...yep. That's your nigga right there.

If he made you make noises you never knew were possible...yep. That nigga blew your back out.

And lets not forget...it's a great stress reliever. ("Excuse me" gives off a different vibe than, "Nigga MOVE...")

Bottom line...it's a cultural thing. African descendants are so damn busy trying to erase culture, we hardly take the time to embrace the reason why it exists. I fully understand the Erykah Badu set will be up my ass in a minute about this post...but fuck you. In your heart, you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about...so don't front. I'm still your nigga.

-Nye

PS. Next, we'll tackle "ho" & "bitch" and how those terms pole- jumped RIGHT over the color line. Cuz those fake tittied "Rock Of Love" ho's are worse than any nappy headed "Flavor Of Love" ho I've ever seen. Like.. whoa.

Why I'm Somebody's Ex - Wildcard Love

If what they say is "Nothing is forever" then what makes...what makes..what makes...love the exception?"

- Andre 3000

Friends. How many of us have them. Friends. Ones we can depend on. Friends. How many of us have them. Friends. Before we go any further lets be friends.

- Whodini

Believe it or not, I've actually been dumped. Not recently...(ha ha) but it has happened. On the other end of the spectrum, a time or two, I've also ended dating-ships and have gotten no objections when I dropped the hammer. (Those are the best. Ego crushers, sure,...but easy nonetheless.) Sometimes, the break was due to incompatibility. You know...bad timing, different goals, want me to be your everything, you're cheap, sex sucks...etc.

If I had to make a prediction about my future, I'm pretty sure I've, up till now, doomed myself to a lifetime of serial monogamy based on my beliefs.

Not really "Beliefs". More like "Beliefs Formally Known As Shortcomings".
Cuz I'm an asshole at times. (Somebody tell the Amen Corner to quiet down over there...) And I'm so fine with it...but every now and then, those "beliefs" come and bite me in the ass. And when your "beliefs" start crossing over to your friendships and you're not Archie Bunker...it's time to re-examine.

I have a few friends who... OK. I have a lot of friends. I know a lot of people. However, like most people...I have my "Starters", "Bench" and a few "Wildcards".

Starters... I don't even have to mention ya'll. You know who you are and have info on me that might make Paris Hilton blush.

Bench....you guys get a feeling who you are but I'm not going to blow you up, cuz yu might think you're a Starter.

Then there are the Wildcards. These are people I don't talk to on a regular, but damn it...I feel kinda special to know them. And because I don't speak to them on a regular... I'm really aware of the shit I do with them...and the excuses I make to cover up when I'm not giving them love right back. So this one is for you Wildcards.


Sonya -
So she comes in...loud and smiling. Smiling hard. Cheshire cat kinda smile. She knows something you don't. She's found the secret to joy...and it's Jack Daniels. Super Jack Daniels. And after about a few umtillion of 'em, she whips out her backcrackin table...and if you let her..she's re-adjust you, tell you why you chew harder on your left side and the reason why your Momma left your Daddy when you were three, all from rubbing your left earlobe. Then, she'll secretly get your address, send you cds full of music you've never heard of...for no reason at all. Just because.
This is my friend, and she does this, without knowing you for more than a week. Just because. And I forgot to wish her a Happy Birthday. (Happy Belated!) This makes me inconsiderate.

Shellena -
The southern drawl will crack you up. The sleepy eyes combined with the southern drawl...you might think this is overkill...but it's just her. The sweetest woman you'd ever meet. Oh..did I mention she's a looker? Always looking for love, and the wrong one always seems to find her. She's come to New York to visit me in every location I've lived in (that makes four times) over the course of our ten year friendship and I've gone to Tennessee to visit her...never. This makes me selfish.

Dele -
OK..the girl is just stunning. She'll smile and light up rooms. She'll always call for a quick get together when she's in town. Never loses touch. Thinks I'm a brilliant writer and tells me so over and over again. Takes in my whole life story and listens...offers WISDOM...not advice. Always shouts me out on my birthday and initiates get togethers...always. I've imitated get togethers...never. This makes me lazy.

China -
There's a featherbed I lie on daily that she gave me. And an expensive scarf. And countless bottles of wine. And she's fed me. Like...A FUCKING LOT. And listened to me bitch and moan about dumb shit. And she left the country. This hit me like a ton of bricks. Her only request... upgrade her computer and send it to Africa...free postage. I sent the computer to my guy in IT...they took FOREVER to upgrade it and one year later...it's now in my office. It's a dinosaur, making the upgrade kinda useless. This makes me a procrastinating punk.


So to all my Wildcards (and there are more, but these are the ones I've been particularly shitty to...) here is my public apology and something to make you feel better.

In no particular order: I'm selfish, a bit lazy, inconsiderate, and asshole and a procrastinating punk...and you've only experienced one of these wonderful traits for yourself, consider yourself lucky. Roll all that up and you're in a relationship with me.

Anyway, I know I can be a better friend and I'm sorry.

I'm trying out a new belief system. Hope you like it. Besides...the bench needs to be shaken up anyway.