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Recently, Lindsay Lohan made news for tweeting the n-word. I’ve been told that she was tweeting one of Kanye West’s lyrics. Madonna, whom I adored as my own personal cone bra’d freedom fighter since middle school, also had a similar social media debacle.
Kanye using this word in a song doesn’t take away the sting of being called the n-word in the subway a couple of years ago when I accidentally bumped into a man, smiled and apologized. It didn’t clear up the humiliation I felt when campus security at my college asked my dad why he was carrying a computer, like every other dad moving his daughter into the dorms. It didn’t add a catchy jingle to my late uncle being beaten and thrown in jail without his diabetes medicine after he was the one who called the cops to report one of his wayward tenants. It also didn’t erase the racial slurs hurled at his son when my cousin was ripped from his vehicle by officers who found his car “too fancy for an 18-year-old” when he was driving back to school after the holidays.
Many years ago, I was on a reality show where off-camera one of my cast mates made an extremely upsetting remark to me using the n-word. When I reported this verbal assault, her defense was that she used the n-word with her black friends at home, and was just quoting a Lil Wayne lyric.
