Ghetto Moments

I tend not to use the word ghetto.  As in did you see Cheri’s nail tips?  They’re $20 bills, that’s so ghetto.  Or Jackie is so ghetto; she had a RSVP wait list for her wedding.  And yet, there I was the other night at an art gallery in Chelsea for a friend’s alumni networking reception, talking to an attractive, animated woman when I invoked the “G” word.  Which is often the more polite form of the “N” word for some people, I’ll get to that in a minute.  Somehow my sister Pippa’s name came up and I always have to repeat it because it’s not a common name in America and even more uncommon for a black woman.  People usually furrow their brow and look at me funny as if I’m mis pronouncing my own sister’s name.  “P i p p a,” I slowly repeat and then spell, P-I-P-P-A.   The woman’s eyes sparked with recognition. “Oh, like Pippa Middleton,” she said.  “Yes,” I exhaled with relief.  For the first time in ages I didn’t have to spell.  Thank God for Kate Middleton, the Duchess of Cambridge and her wild child younger sister Pippa, who in this woman’s mind had failed Kate miserably as a bridesmaid.  “That dress was too sexy and took the attention away from the bride.  It should have fallen away from her behind instead of clinging to it.”  “More demure,” I offered to paraphrase her point of view.  “Yes,” she said.  None of this occurred to me when I watched the royal wedding.  I was at a loss for words to explain Pippa’s seemingly inappropriate sartorial choice or come to her defense, so I said “Well, I guess she just had a “ghetto moment,” as I swung my hips to the side and stuck out my behind.  And for some reason, ghetto didn’t bother me.  Ghetto felt right.  Ghetto wasn’t just for black people; “ghetto” moments are for everyone.

I come from a long line of teachers: mother, grandmother, aunts; it’s what college educated black women could do to earn a living.  Proper use of grammar and language was drilled into me, whether I wholeheartedly follow it or not.  I recall opening the door and entering our home as a teenager and my mother calling out, inquiring which of her three children was home when I said “it’s me.”  She bade me to go back through the door and reenter with the correct identification: It is I.  I still, till this day, cannot use the word pee for urinate or fart for gas.  Proper biological terms only please.  You were to find the right word to convey your truest meaning, hence my discomfort with the word ghetto.  What are we implying when we describe someone or something as ghetto?  And just like the “N” word it depends on who’s saying it and in what context.  To me, it’s become the more socially acceptable, sly form of the “N” word to describe stereotypical behavior, better known as, black folks behaving badly!

Amongst each other, we can toss the word around with affection or disdain.  It can illuminate issues of class or regionality.  What’s ghetto on the Vineyard is copacetic in Virginia Beach.  Once ghetto is not amongst us, it picks up the added burden of racism or perceived racism.  The first time I heard a young white person describe a piece of office equipment as ghetto, my hackles rose.  “Ghetto,” I repeated.  “Yes, you know busted,” and on they went as if nothing was out of place.  Poorly constructed, cheap came to my mind, not ghetto.  Oh, so now we’re responsible for the breakdown of corporate America, when did that happen? We don’t even make copy machines!   I was equally startled by a group of young boys loud talking on the subway, playfully throwing F-bombs and Nigger here and there. “Nigga, you don’t know what you talkin’ about,” I heard one of them yell, as I looked over to see a group of all Asian boys.

“Say what?!”  Perhaps I’m showing my age.  These were take out your earrings, grease up your ears, ready to fight words in my day.  I grew up with Webster’s New Collegiate dictionary and Encyclopaedia Britannica, actual bound books that you touched and opened up to acquire knowledge.  If you look up ghetto in an old dictionary, yes I still have one, the first definition listed is: a quarter of the city in which Jews were formerly required to live, the second: a quarter of a city in which members of a minority group live especially because of social, legal or economic pressure.  Let’s face it; ghettos have always been associated with non-Christian or “ethnic” folks that scare rich white people.  If you go online you will find these same definitions and a myriad of updated ones on the irreverent, funny and informative urbandictionary.com.   Under definition #1 you’ll find it’s adjective use: jerry rigged, improvised, or home-made usually with extremely cheap or sub-standard components, yet still deserving of an odd sense of respect from ghetto dwellers and non-ghetto dwellers alike.  Under #2:  a word which rich white girls use to describe almost everything that’s not clad with Lilly polos and pearls.  Under #6: relating to black culture.

Herein lies the tension, the friction.  Its origin was and can still be a pejorative term conferred upon a group of people by a ruling class of people, but with the elasticity and evolution of language, can defy its own definition.  In that moment, Pippa’s “ghetto” moment, she wasn’t cheap or substandard, or acting black.  She was sassy and bold and perhaps just a little too extra, something we all can be.

P.S. I still can’t get with the mainstream use of the “N” word. Baby steps, baby steps…

Question for comment or discussion:

Given America’s poor track record of dealing with race and class in a straightforward manner and our younger generations often not understanding the historic context of the words they use, should we be more circumspect in their usage?