I’ve always been fascinated by white folks who use the “N-word” with what appears to be ferocious joy. There’s something about the combination of hard consonants compacted into two syllables that gets their juices flowing.
Whether there’s an initial stutter before quoting a line from a Richard Pryor bit or reciting a scene from a Quentin Tarantino movie with a little too much gusto, the relief at finally having “permission” to say what is normally verboten borders on post-coital, especially if Black folks are present to witness it. You really don’t want to be around white folks at a rap concert, especially when they’ve memorized every word.
Reading through transcripts of Travis McMichael’s comments on social media, and in texts to friends and colleagues, that have been entered as evidence in his federal trial gives America an unobstructed view of the kind of racism that ultimately leads to murder. It begins with that word.
