The Articulate Plague

It’s frustrating trying to explain something to someone fundamentally ill-equipped to understand it. They’ll either get it or they won’t, and your explanation rarely has any effect on that outcome. I think I’ve said as much before.

A black woman was talking about makeup and beauty, and a white guy commented that she was very well-spoken and articulate. I rolled my eyes, and I’d bet dollars to donuts that another black person reading this already knows why.

It’s one of those seemingly innocuous things you either pick up on from firsthand experience living in a particular skin or from being socially conscious – which not enough people are.

Let’s call it a symptom.

If you’ve ever played the game Plague Inc., you know the goal is to kill everyone on the planet with a pathogen you’ve created. Being a simulation that explores the spread of disease and the devastating potential it has to obliterate us on a global scale, there are a few things you have to consider.

Time is an important factor because you want to kill everyone before the world finds a cure, so the pathogen has to be infectious enough to spread quickly. It also has to be resistant enough to changes in climate to spread widely. And lastly, it has to mutate to make treating it more difficult.

The trickiest bit is in balancing the fact that it has to be deadly enough to kill, but not so deadly that it kills its carriers faster than they can infect others – and for the most part, that’s controlled by manipulating symptoms.

You want them severe enough to be fatal, but not so severe that people notice them too soon. Because it’s the symptoms that call attention to the disease, and once people are aware of the disease, they set down the path to cure it.

We suffer many diseases as a society – things that burn through us like wildfire before anyone takes note. By the time we realize something awful is spreading, we’re already infected and in a weaker position to fight it than we would have been had it not taken us so long to catch on.

My point is that failing to acknowledge that something is a symptom of a greater problem almost guarantees that we’ll never solve it.

Now that I’ve enlightened you with the delightful parallel that is a game about decimating mankind, let’s see how it applies to this particular post!

In this case, the symptom is a symptom of another symptom…

Having grown up in America, it’s no secret that when someone who isn’t black thinks of a black person, there are quite a few stereotypes that often come to mind.

Some good. Many not.

And one of the most prominent “nots” is that we don’t speak proper English, this consensus that we butcher the language more than Americans in general. That every other word out of our mouths is either profane, grammatically incorrect, or some ridiculous unintelligible slang that others mock yet will eventually adopt nonetheless.

It’s a given to many that we sound uneducated and illiterate to the point of being humorous, which is why it’s so entertaining to mimic us. I got my hair did and I’m hip because I said it that way! Ain’t nobody got time for that! Oh, boy, it’s fun reducing black perspectives to jaunty memes!

Since this is the way blacks are viewed here by and large, there always appears to be this underlying hint of surprise from others when a black person doesn’t speak that way. And that surprise compels them to acknowledge the anomaly – to give that black person a pat on the back for not sounding “black”.

So we’ve ended up with a society full of people – primarily white people – who hear a black person speak in a way that would otherwise be considered unworthy of note and the first thing that comes to mind is, “My, isn’t he/she articulate!”

Of course, they think it’s a compliment – just like they think it’s a compliment when they tell us we’re not like other blacks or that they “don’t see color”.

But those of us who recognize these compliments as symptoms of the disease that is the perception of blacks as inferior in a number of ways, including in our grasp of the English language, are rightly insulted, annoyed, or – at the very least – not uplifted by it.

It amazes me how many people can’t wrap their heads around this, so I’ll draw another parallel. It’s like if I were to say to a random guy, “You don’t seem like a rapist at all!” I wouldn’t blame him if his initial reaction were, “Why would I seem like a rapist?”

Because that’s the question.

Why wouldn’t I be articulate?

The answer is because I’m black and that’s the problem. It isn’t that someone wanted to pay us a compliment. It’s that someone thought it was something that needed to be complimented as if it’s unusual when there’s nothing unusual about it.

If and when a white person is called articulate, it’s because they actually express themselves with notable eloquence and effect. Meanwhile, all a black person has to do is structure a sentence properly. That’s how low people have set our bar in their minds.

“I went to the store to buy soup and they didn’t have any.”
“Whoa! You’re so articulate!”

It’s so common that it’s been addressed again and again and again – in real life, in television, film, articles, and comedy – yet those of us who don’t speak like a black caricature are still inundated with people who feel compelled to point out that we’re articulate.

Then they learn nothing when we explain why it’s obnoxious because they’re too busy arguing about how we should take it.

Equally bad are fellow blacks who’ve internalized this negative perception of how we speak and instead of saying we’re articulate, say that we sound white. It’s a different branch of the same ignorant tree.

I remember when a white coworker I’d become friends with said, “You should give me your Ebonics dictionary, because you obviously don’t use it.”

“What?”

“I just mean that you don’t speak in Ebonics and all that yo yo and he be doing and that kind of stuff. You speak properly.”

I schooled my friend on why that was both the dumbest and most racist thing he’d ever said to me. He apologized and seemed to get it, but it’s not always that simple.

So the next time you’re tempted to comment on how “articulate” a black person is, I want you to think hard and honestly about why that word came to mind.

Was it because their way of speaking or writing was really that impactful in its clarity and expressiveness and the like? Or was it because you were expecting them to sound like “something else”?

Picture them as any other race.
Does it still seem worth complimenting?

It’s easy to speak and act without thinking about why. It’s easy for people to read my comments or blogs, find out I’m black, say I just assumed you were white, and never give any consideration to why they did. But I don’t do “easy”.

Easy rarely makes you more intelligent.
Easy rarely makes you more aware.
Easy rarely makes you better.

Go hard or go home.

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