I'm Not Your Sassy Black Friend.

No one other than Black women should
have an "inner Black woman", K?

It's inevitable.

I've been in college for quite some time now, and nearly every time I attempt to forge a friendship with a White person, the same thing happens: we speak candidly for about half an hour, and as I begin to enjoy the conversation and feel more comfortable, I slip into a more casual dialect-- a few split verbs (I can imagine my father's chagrin) and colloquial phrases peppered among otherwise structurally pristine English. In other words, I start "talking Black." Unfortunately, the person to whom I am speaking generally perceives this as an invitation to surreptitiously begin their own "talking Black" impression as well. This generally includes a round of grossly exaggerated "mmhmm girrrrl"s or "yaaas honey"s or "uh uh girlfriend"s or an egregious pursing of the lips in what I can only assume is meant to be a poor imitation of a Black woman (I don't purse my lips?).

From what I have observed, this mimicry has two unique origins: a genuine (if misguided and naive) desire to connect with my apparently foreign and mysterious "ethnic" roots, or, more aggravatingly, a conversation with me is viewed as the rare opportunity to practice all of the funny and "sassy" Black female behavior that they've seen in the media. Both reasons-- no matter how superficially benign-- result in the commodification of my identity and a general distraction from the seriousness of any topic that I may attempt to discuss.

The desire to adopt an artificial "Blaccent" when speaking to me also feels like a violation of my trust. In order to prevent being stereotyped as ignorant or "ghetto" (oh, how I loathe that word), I strictly speak a professional and articulate form of English when I speak to White people on a casual basis. And quite frankly, to do so all the time is extremely draining. So to allow myself to incorporate small elements of my cultural dialect into a conversation with a White person is a rare luxury and a signal that for once, I am not perpetually on guard against racially insensitive remarks or behavior. Thus, to then take advantage of my comfort and my trust by poorly imitating something that is simply natural to me is not only tacky, but also disrespectful as well.

To make my grievance more understandable, attempting to "talk Black" to me would be comparable to me donning a blonde wig, sipping a pumpkin spice latte, and saying "like" every other word whenever I engaged in a conversation with a White person. It is a well-known fact that not all White women are blonde, like PSLs (although they are delicious), or are incapable of stringing together a grammatically correct sentence. We acknowledge that these are false stereotypes of White women in our culture, but the same courtesy has not been extended to Black women.

A White person's decision to imitate a hyperbolized version of me has consequences that extend far beyond their fifteen minutes of personal entertainment or faux Black solidarity. Because I do not have the social or economic capital (yet) to control the way that society perceives me, I and other Black women become apocryphal creatures of lore, shouting from faraway rooftops in dated Ebonics and smacking our lips from the neglected corners of society. My frustration and dissatisfaction regarding my representation in a society that, by simple classifications of gender and race, has placed me at the bottom of its totem pole, ceases to be a legitimate request for change and instead morphs into a comical, directionless breed of anger that can be parodied on a comedy sketch show or an evening sitcom.

The reduction of my complex identity to a few neck rolls and snaps in a Z-formation is insulting and ultimately a disservice not only to me, but also to anyone who would miss out on a potentially stimulating conversation. It may seem harmless to imitate my "sass" (and is it really sass, or is it having a sparkling personality?), but by indulging in a temporary laugh at your new "sassy Black friend," you've lost the opportunity to form a lasting friendship with someone whose interests, beliefs, and life experiences could be surprisingly similar to your own if cultural stereotypes could be cast aside.

Have you ever been the "sassy Black friend"? Or, have you ever tried your best "Blaccent" (it's okay, you can fess up)?