In “Which is the Correct Term? Black vs. BIPOC vs. African American vs. POC vs. BAME,” Gabby Beckford elucidates the nuances in terminology referring to minority communities, highlighting the importance of precision when discussing race and ethnicity. Beckford ultimately concludes that the most appropriate terms to use are the most specific ones applicable to a relevant situation or discussion.
I was first pointed towards this article by you during my third response. In a discussion of Black Ivy, I claimed that it demonstrated the adoption of ivy among African Americans, but you aptly pointed out that it wasn’t purely an American phenomenon; Jason Jules, for instance, the author of Black Ivy: A Revolt in Style, is black, but not American. It was an oversight on my part, but it did also have me thinking: why did I default to African American?
Beckford actually points out this tendency, noting that “in the past, there seemed to have been a movement to use the term African-American as it was seen as more ‘PC’”; she too points out that “not all Black people in the United States are African-American” (par. 5). She goes on to emphasize the idea that the term ‘Black’ should not be interpreted as having negative connotations, noting that she’s “received commentary from white people saying that in their hometowns and growing up, they felt that calling someone Black had a negative connotation… [but she found] it was likely the discomfort in addressing race at all, and often the inflection with which racist people would call Black people Black which was the issue, and not the word itself” (par. 6).
I was kind of struck by how I could relate to this. I grew up in a small, affluent suburb in New Jersey, a state known for its high quality education; according to U.S News & World Report, it actually ranks 1st in the nation out of all 50 states. Our education system, however, is also one of the most segregated in the nation, ranked at 6th out of 50. This is true both racially and socioeconomically, and it’s a fact I was very much aware of growing up. My middle and high school had populations that were both around 90% white. My first year of high school, I remember a friend telling me that kids from the two other middle schools (that fed into our high school) would call our town ‘Chester-ico,’ like Puerto Rico, because of how many Hispanic kids lived there. Our middle school population was only 8% Hispanic!
My hometown was racially and socioeconomically homogeneous to the point that even I felt out of place, at times. I remember coming back to school after summer vacation, with a very deep tan from spending a lot of time in the sun, and feeling very conscious about how much my skin tone stuck out compared to my peers. I find that almost absurd, frankly – I’m white-passing! And technically, white. (There’s an entire debate on whether or not people who are Middle Eastern/North African should be considered white, but that’s a separate discussion). I think Beckford accurately articulated why those who were raised in predominantly white communities have trouble using the word ‘Black’; the lack of representation within the community makes it significantly harder to understand what terminology would be preferable, since few are willing to correct misconceptions or believe it is simply not their place to do so.
I also noticed that how the terminology I used, as well as the associated connotations, changes with the context and language I’m speaking in. I’d use ‘Black’ in daily life, but I almost always used the terms ‘African-Americans’ or ‘BIPOC’ in formal or academic writing; I think that might stem from the fear of being perceived as insensitive to current issues, especially by those who aren’t yet familiar with me and my views. In French, there’s not really a ‘socially acceptable’ term for Black people other than the word for Black (“noir”), although I think that’s a reflection of French culture more than anything else. There’s certainly no lack of inherent racism in the French language, but changes in terminology can’t occur nearly as rapidly as they can in English, mainly due to the fact that any time a word or its usage is changed, or a new word is formed, it has to be approved by l’Academie Francaise, a council that seeks to preserve French culture and the history of the French language, as well as limit foreign influences to some extent. This process is arduously slow and full of red tape, which is typical of the nightmare that French bureaucracy is. There’s actually a really interesting and insightful episode of a podcast I listen to detailing someone’s struggle to have a French word with a deeply racist history changed through this process, which is linked at the top of this post.
Overall, I think this article provides a lot of food for thought in terms of evaluating our own perceptions of race, culture, and language, as well as noticing any internalized misconceptions we may carry. I think a lot of people believe that acceptance, of any group of people, is a binary, or a conscious decision; your racist relative woke up one day and decided to be a bigot, and you didn’t. But I think it’s more complicated than that. Even when we try to be allies, we can accidentally find ourselves perpetuating prejudiced ideas, indulging in stereotypes, or labeling something as the ‘default’ or ‘normal’ when that’s not necessarily true. Biases like these are deeply ingrained in the fabric of society, and they’re something we learn unconsciously, at a young age. That’s why I want to thank you for correcting my terminology in that earlier response. It’s important to actively reflect on your own patterns of thinking and educate yourself on these issues, which is something I strive to do, but sometimes you need someone to give you a reality check in order to reconsider an assumption you may have left unchallenged.
Works Cited
https://www.npr.org/2020/12/16/947221309/we-still-dont-say-that
https://www.packslight.com/which-is-right-term-african-american-vs-black-vs-bipoc-vs-poc-vs-bame/