1. In my youth I wanted so badly to fit in. I wanted to be a regular black kid like the other black kids. The problem was, as was pointed out in my eighth grade English class: He talk like a white boy!
2. My best friend lived in a white neighborhood and had the same debilitation: correct usage, impeccable diction, large vocabulary. Woe is us. So, for a week of so, we tried. We spent the entire week calling each other *******. Nigga, please! and Nigga, whatchu talkin bout. But our proper English kept getting in the way, and the experiment failed.
3. Im certain that my life would have been different had I kept trying. One thing is certain, I would have has greater success with women! Talking like a white boy hit me most often where it counts- my ability to get nookie. I discovered, much to my chagrin, that black women are highly sensitive to the Not Black Enough Syndrome. Black women like the jive talk.
4. It is an actual syndrome. Not only have I lived it, but it is also documented in the book Black Rage, written by two black psychiatrists, William H. Grier and Price M. Cobbs. Page 127: A group of black men was asked to describe their techniques of seduction. Without exception, each one said that at a crucial point he reverted to the patois. Black women said they experienced an intensification of excitement when their lovers reverted to the old language.
a. Of course, it had been pointed out in the eighth grade, I dont have the patois. I fell to my knees and pleaded with God: WHY? WHY DONT I HAVE THE PATOIS??
b. They go on to say: For the black man in the United States, the boudoir is a field of combat in which rightfully or not he is deemed by his society pre-eminent. His use of patois, may dramatically highlight an already heroic presence.
5. Need proof? I dated Robin Givens years before she was Robin Givens. I was laying down my best stuff, wore my good cologne, told my best jokes trying to sound sophisticated. Even got in good with her mother. Nothing. Years later she married Mike Tyson. Later, I heard her on a radio interview with Howard Stern, talking about how she loves really thuggish black guys. What a gyp! I go to school, stay out of trouble, really try to make something of myself, but the street thug gets to make love to Robin Givens.
6. Well, I refuse to fake the funk for anyone. Even Robin Givens. Now, as an actor, I can fake the sound and syntax, the turn of phrase, the inflection, if a part requires it. But, it is not my normal way of speaking. Hardly a week goes by without someone commenting on my proper speech. In fact, an actor I worked with reminded him of a professor he had in Trinidad, and he swore that one day, the professor waded out too far in the ocean, and, instead of hollering Help! Help!, he called out Excuse me, may I have some assistance please?
7. Fortunately there is a happy ending. Years after rebounding from the Givens snub, I met and fell in love with a pretty young black woman with red hair and freckles, who would become my wife. Oddly enough, while we were dating, I would speak to her on the phone, and find myself thinking, She talk like a white girl.
It was a match made in heaven.
The above from Joseph C. Phillips' book "He Talk Like A White Boy"
I hope that the above serves as education and a cautionary tale for our Liberal friends:
all black people are not the same.
Nor must they be ground to dust if they don't fit your political perspective.
2. My best friend lived in a white neighborhood and had the same debilitation: correct usage, impeccable diction, large vocabulary. Woe is us. So, for a week of so, we tried. We spent the entire week calling each other *******. Nigga, please! and Nigga, whatchu talkin bout. But our proper English kept getting in the way, and the experiment failed.
3. Im certain that my life would have been different had I kept trying. One thing is certain, I would have has greater success with women! Talking like a white boy hit me most often where it counts- my ability to get nookie. I discovered, much to my chagrin, that black women are highly sensitive to the Not Black Enough Syndrome. Black women like the jive talk.
4. It is an actual syndrome. Not only have I lived it, but it is also documented in the book Black Rage, written by two black psychiatrists, William H. Grier and Price M. Cobbs. Page 127: A group of black men was asked to describe their techniques of seduction. Without exception, each one said that at a crucial point he reverted to the patois. Black women said they experienced an intensification of excitement when their lovers reverted to the old language.
a. Of course, it had been pointed out in the eighth grade, I dont have the patois. I fell to my knees and pleaded with God: WHY? WHY DONT I HAVE THE PATOIS??
b. They go on to say: For the black man in the United States, the boudoir is a field of combat in which rightfully or not he is deemed by his society pre-eminent. His use of patois, may dramatically highlight an already heroic presence.
5. Need proof? I dated Robin Givens years before she was Robin Givens. I was laying down my best stuff, wore my good cologne, told my best jokes trying to sound sophisticated. Even got in good with her mother. Nothing. Years later she married Mike Tyson. Later, I heard her on a radio interview with Howard Stern, talking about how she loves really thuggish black guys. What a gyp! I go to school, stay out of trouble, really try to make something of myself, but the street thug gets to make love to Robin Givens.
6. Well, I refuse to fake the funk for anyone. Even Robin Givens. Now, as an actor, I can fake the sound and syntax, the turn of phrase, the inflection, if a part requires it. But, it is not my normal way of speaking. Hardly a week goes by without someone commenting on my proper speech. In fact, an actor I worked with reminded him of a professor he had in Trinidad, and he swore that one day, the professor waded out too far in the ocean, and, instead of hollering Help! Help!, he called out Excuse me, may I have some assistance please?
7. Fortunately there is a happy ending. Years after rebounding from the Givens snub, I met and fell in love with a pretty young black woman with red hair and freckles, who would become my wife. Oddly enough, while we were dating, I would speak to her on the phone, and find myself thinking, She talk like a white girl.
It was a match made in heaven.
The above from Joseph C. Phillips' book "He Talk Like A White Boy"
I hope that the above serves as education and a cautionary tale for our Liberal friends:
all black people are not the same.
Nor must they be ground to dust if they don't fit your political perspective.
