Free Essays on Slang Words

Nigga Vs. Nigger â€Å"Yo! That’s my NIGGA†, is what the average African American person would substitute for the connotation of their buddy, acquaintance, friend and associate. Notice the spelling of the word Nigga; the word ends with the letter â€Å"A† rather than â€Å"ER†. The ending of the word emphasizes a meaning. If the word ends with an â€Å"ER† it’s meant to offend a black person, as oppose to an â€Å"A†, which is used to express friendship within a circle of black friends. Even though the figure of speech is a noun, like the word nigger, it has a whole different meaning behind it. The connotation behind the word nigga symbolizes unity within the African American culture and society. Young black people feel comfortable calling each other â€Å"their nigga’s† because they are aware of the meaning. The connotation behind the word nigga to whites, regardless of the â€Å"A† or â€Å"ER† is negative. White p eople think the meaning is derogatory and always will be because of their perspective on how it was used throughout history. White people feel extremely uncomfortable calling their friends a nigga because they feel the new meaning of the connotation is the same denotation of the word. â€Å"That’s a NIGGER†, is the way many people classified black people back in the day. The word nigger is traced back to 1786 with the same denotation as it has now. A nigger as defined in the Oxford English Dictionary as, â€Å"loosely or incorrectly applied to members of other dark-skinned races.† Throughout history the word nigger was never used in a manner that demonstrates pleasant things, it was always used to belittle a black person for not being similar to what the average person was (white). In the Oxford English Dictionary, all the examples the author provides for the reader reflect a negative meaning of that word. For example, in the dictionary it states to work like a nigger, is to work exceptionally hard. This examp... Free Essays on Slang Words Free Essays on Slang Words Nigga Vs. Nigger â€Å"Yo! That’s my NIGGA†, is what the average African American person would substitute for the connotation of their buddy, acquaintance, friend and associate. Notice the spelling of the word Nigga; the word ends with the letter â€Å"A† rather than â€Å"ER†. The ending of the word emphasizes a meaning. If the word ends with an â€Å"ER† it’s meant to offend a black person, as oppose to an â€Å"A†, which is used to express friendship within a circle of black friends. Even though the figure of speech is a noun, like the word nigger, it has a whole different meaning behind it. The connotation behind the word nigga symbolizes unity within the African American culture and society. Young black people feel comfortable calling each other â€Å"their nigga’s† because they are aware of the meaning. The connotation behind the word nigga to whites, regardless of the â€Å"A† or â€Å"ER† is negative. White p eople think the meaning is derogatory and always will be because of their perspective on how it was used throughout history. White people feel extremely uncomfortable calling their friends a nigga because they feel the new meaning of the connotation is the same denotation of the word. â€Å"That’s a NIGGER†, is the way many people classified black people back in the day. The word nigger is traced back to 1786 with the same denotation as it has now. A nigger as defined in the Oxford English Dictionary as, â€Å"loosely or incorrectly applied to members of other dark-skinned races.† Throughout history the word nigger was never used in a manner that demonstrates pleasant things, it was always used to belittle a black person for not being similar to what the average person was (white). In the Oxford English Dictionary, all the examples the author provides for the reader reflect a negative meaning of that word. For example, in the dictionary it states to work like a nigger, is to work exceptionally hard. This examp...

Free Essays on An Influential Personevent

An influential Personevent It seemed like it would make her die, just speaking it. So I didn’t tell anyone, not even my best friends. At school I would slip into a fantastical dreamland, nobody there knew that I should be troubled, pensive. I put on my best front and paraded around the school halls with some sort of smile plastered on my face. At lunchtime I’d stare at my food thinking that my friends should know. I thought of a million different ways to tell them. Each time that I came close to telling them, I would think about their potential reactions. There would be the normal lunchtime banter going on, complaints about the ranch dressing, and I would blurt out, "Hey guys, my mom has breast cancer." The whole cafeteria would turn silent and the plastic forks would drop from their hands, making a sad little clinking noise. Then I would stare at my food mentally kicking myself for having opened my mouth. I chose to say nothing. I remember very clearly the day that I went to go sit with her whil e she got her chemotherapy. I only did this once because it was too hard for me. I walked down an overly-lit sterile hallway trailing behind my dad. When we reached her room I wished that I could just keep walking, pretend I hadn’t seen her. I went in and sat down. Her shirt was partially unbuttoned so that the IV could be inserted into the porto-cath surgically implanted under her collarbone. She was hooked up to three different kinds of poisons, and one normal IV. There were some knitting things spread across her lap and the ever present bag of lemon drops was faithfully at her side. Her head was laid back in the chair, she was tired. She and my dad tried to involve me in some nice chit-chat, I met and shook hands with the doctors and nurses, "It’s nice to meet you Dr. McCoy." Yeah right. They complimented her on what a beautiful daughter she had. I blushed, smiled politely then excused myself to the bathroom. I wiped away my for... Free Essays on An Influential Personevent Free Essays on An Influential Personevent An influential Personevent It seemed like it would make her die, just speaking it. So I didn’t tell anyone, not even my best friends. At school I would slip into a fantastical dreamland, nobody there knew that I should be troubled, pensive. I put on my best front and paraded around the school halls with some sort of smile plastered on my face. At lunchtime I’d stare at my food thinking that my friends should know. I thought of a million different ways to tell them. Each time that I came close to telling them, I would think about their potential reactions. There would be the normal lunchtime banter going on, complaints about the ranch dressing, and I would blurt out, "Hey guys, my mom has breast cancer." The whole cafeteria would turn silent and the plastic forks would drop from their hands, making a sad little clinking noise. Then I would stare at my food mentally kicking myself for having opened my mouth. I chose to say nothing. I remember very clearly the day that I went to go sit with her whil e she got her chemotherapy. I only did this once because it was too hard for me. I walked down an overly-lit sterile hallway trailing behind my dad. When we reached her room I wished that I could just keep walking, pretend I hadn’t seen her. I went in and sat down. Her shirt was partially unbuttoned so that the IV could be inserted into the porto-cath surgically implanted under her collarbone. She was hooked up to three different kinds of poisons, and one normal IV. There were some knitting things spread across her lap and the ever present bag of lemon drops was faithfully at her side. Her head was laid back in the chair, she was tired. She and my dad tried to involve me in some nice chit-chat, I met and shook hands with the doctors and nurses, "It’s nice to meet you Dr. McCoy." Yeah right. They complimented her on what a beautiful daughter she had. I blushed, smiled politely then excused myself to the bathroom. I wiped away my for...