Lawrence Hill (The Book of Negroes)
Lawrence Hill is the author of 11 books. He is a professor of creative writing at the University of Guelph, and a member of the Order of Canada.
Last month, Heather Hamilton, an English teacher for some 30 years with the London District Catholic School Board, called me to say that she and her colleagues have been told to stop teaching my novel The Book of Negroes because it contains the word “nigger.” Ms. Hamilton has taught the novel for 15 years to Grade 12 students at Regina Mundi Catholic College and at another London high school.
She told me that her board’s executive superintendent informed her that the word harms students, and that she was no longer allowed to require students to read any book containing the word. Instead, she was told, educators should focus on literature that celebrates “Black joy.”
Joy. All right, then. Shall we scour library shelves for books about dance? Clothing? A Black writer might write a great book about food. Nothing wrong with that. I am the proud owner of a copy of Pig Tails ‘n Breadfruit: A Culinary Memoir by the Barbadian-Canadian writer Austin Clarke.
Austin Clarke (The Polished Hoe)
However, many Black writers (including Mr. Clarke, in his other books) explore social and racial injustice, war, slavery, migration, love, resilience and emancipation. We draw upon the experiences and language that we and our ancestors have known throughout our 400-year history in North America. Sometimes, our characters will face racism. When they do, it might not pass the test of authentic dialogue to write, “Mr. Brown, would you ever so kindly move to the back of the bus before we commit capital punishment on your person?”
I ran the word “nigger” through the “find” function and discovered that it appears 24 times in my novel. Well, 23, because I don’t count the time it sneaked inside the verb “sniggered.” I will not apologize 23 times. I won’t even apologize once.
The word shows up in most of my books. Sometimes my characters use the word as a racial insult, but in other moments Black folks shoot the breeze. Sometimes my characters employ hurtful words to take the sting out of them. Sometimes they use awful words to laugh at them. Or to comfort each other. Subverting language – including terms that have been forced on us – is foundational in Black literature. This, too, can be joyful. It can even be funny.
I am 67, and of a generation that tends to eschew “nigger” in casual conversation. My late father, Daniel Hill – an African-American sociologist who emigrated to Toronto before I was born and became the first director of the Ontario Human Rights Commission – told me that the word represented pure hatred against Black people. He ordered me to ball up my fists and fight any kid who used the word. I foolishly took that advice once, and walked back home with a deviated septum. Quickly, it became clear to me that speaking and writing about racial injustice was safer and more productive than fighting.
Ms. Hamilton was courageous to come forward, but she was not the first – I have lost count of the number of teachers who have reached out with the same concern.
I would remind administrators who ban such literature that their classrooms will prevent 16- and 17-year-old students from encountering seminal authors such as: James Baldwin (The Fire Next Time), David Chariandy (Brother), Esi Edugyan (Washington Black), Toni Morrison (Beloved), Angie Thomas (The Hate U Give), Alice Walker (The Color Purple), Colson Whitehead (The Underground Railroad) …
Need I go on?
Do you see a pattern?
Each writer is Black.
This putative ban – sometimes hiding behind whispers that teachers may allow a student to read such a book individually, but that they may not assign it to an entire class – erases Black writers from school curriculums.
James Baldwin (The Fire Next Time)
It may be well intended, but it has the same effect as efforts, in the United States and Canada, to ban books that explore anti-Black racism. It denies our children access to a wide range of challenging (and thrilling!) literature, and it will exacerbate the widespread tendency to ignore Black history, Black culture, Black literature and Black people.
Can you imagine banning books by Margaret Atwood, Joy Kogawa or Tanya Talaga because their works might upset students? Shall we set aside The Handmaid’s Tale, Obasan and The Knowing and instead pick joyful books about womanhood, Japanese-Canadians and Indigenous peoples?
Esi Edugyan (Washington Black)
We are not talking about seven-year-old readers, here. We are talking about young people who can already drive cars, will soon vote, and will shortly enter the job market or go to college or university. Soon enough, they will be building bridges, performing emergency surgeries, running for political office, paying for the pensions of baby boomers and trying to keep our planet from combusting.
No educator in their right mind would argue that high-school students are not ready to read The Diary of Anne Frank, because discussing the Holocaust causes harm or might upset certain students. On the contrary, some schools openly embrace genocide studies. And so they should.
Any serious Grade 11 or 12 student knows that even literature that entertains can land with a wallop. It exists to challenge. To ask hard questions. To provoke conversations. And to stir the reader’s moral compass.
David Chariandy (Brother)
When I reached out to the London District Catholic School board for comment, Susan Nickle, the board’s Executive Officer (Superintendent) People and Culture and General Counsel, wrote back to me to say that the board “does not, and will not, censor or ban your book” and that my work “will continue to be available as options for student engagement and learning within our libraries and classrooms across our district.
“However, we must also be mindful of the diverse sensitivities and experiences of our students,” she continued. “Due to the triggering language and content present in The Book of Negroes, and several students who have expressed concerns, we are not able to make it required/mandatory reading for formal assessment. That being said, your book remains an important resource that students can continue to voluntarily select for classroom novel study. Our objective is to create an inclusive and supportive educational environment for all students.”
I followed up to ask about the board’s policy with regard to the use of any books containing the word, but Ms. Nickle did not reply. I reached out again to Ms. Hamilton, who said she had taught the novel to 900 students over the years without receiving any objections. She said that every student is allowed to opt out of reading an assigned text and that Ms. Nickle’s reply skirted the key issue – that Ms. Hamilton said she was told “that under no circumstances am I to teach a novel using the n-word.”
Now. About that word. First, let’s distinguish it from “Negro,” which enjoys a distinct history. Whereas “nigger” traditionally exists to degrade, “Negro” – until the 1970s – was considered to be a respectful term for Black people. Martin Luther King Jr. referred to himself as a Negro. So did my father, who was born in Missouri in 1923. Indeed, when my father was promoted to become chairperson of the Ontario Human Rights Commission, The Globe and Mail covered the story on Dec. 24, 1971, with the headline “Negro appointed chair of human rights board.”
With the rise of the Black power movement in the 1960s and 70s, the words “Negro” and “coloured” began to slide into obsolescence. Other terms, such as “Black,” “African-Canadian” and “Afro-American” became the norm.
Toni Morrison (Beloved)
Today, “Negro” is definitely out of date, although some Black people still use the term to refer slightingly to those who deny their heritage or appear obsessed with appeasing white people. For the title of my novel, I used the term to resurrect the story of a British naval ledger kept in 1783 to record the biographical details of 3,000 African-Americans who fled New York City and sailed to Nova Scotia after serving the Tories on the losing side of the American Revolutionary War.
The word “nigger” has a more troubling history. Over the 400-plus year presence of peoples of African descent in Canada and elsewhere in the Americas, the word has traditionally been used as an insult, and accompanied violence – including rape, torture, lynching and other forms of murder – against Black people. The word is much more than a word. On countless occasions, it has serenaded atrocities against Black people.
My father was right to warn me about the word. On a scale of hatred and vilification, few words in the English language compete with it. However, in recent decades, many Black people – including musicians, screenwriters, novelists and essayists – have taken it upon themselves to reappropriate the word, to subvert it, to take the sting out of it, and to own it. And why not?
Angie Thomas (The Hate U Give)
Students in Grades 11 and 12 are fully capable of learning that language evolves over time, and that words designed to define racial identity are among the fastest of all to evolve because they will never satisfy. Black people will continue to look for new ways to define themselves. Our great-grandchildren will almost certainly invent terminology about which we can only imagine.
So, educators have room to explain to their students that it is possible for two seemingly contradictory things to co-exist: “Nigger” can be a grossly insulting term, and it can also appear rebelliously, joyously and creatively in music, film and literature. Students can grow into an awareness of why the word abounds in Black culture today, right alongside its long-time associations with hatred and violence.
Alice Walker (The Color Purple)
(By the way, although I do not use the word “nigger” aloud, I am not a fan of the term “the n-word.” It is a silly euphemism. We all know what we are talking about. The term “n-word” evokes the very same history as “nigger.” It means the same thing, but makes the speaker appear skittish and afraid.)
There is no need for fear. We can teach our children to transcend the word that haunted our ancestors. Let’s be the adults in the room. Alongside our teenagers, we can examine language and its place in literature. I taught my own five children to weigh the heft of all words, to gauge their histories and varied meanings, to shove the noxious ones deeply into their back pockets, and to reserve the expletives for private situations with trusted people. In the classroom, without saying the word “nigger” aloud, it is still possible to discuss it and the social, historical and literary contexts in which it appears. Yes, it is a dance. But the moves can be learned.
There is no good reason to exclude serious books that use the word, or to prevent teachers from rising to the task of teaching those books. Toni Morrison, Esi Edugyan and David Chariandy do not use the word in isolation. Martin Luther King Jr. also places the word in context in his timeless “Letter from Birmingham Jail.”
Martin Luther King Jr., left, and Wyatt Tee Walker, right. Walker helped assemble "Letter From Birmingham Jail" from notes the incarcerated King wrote on paper scraps and newspaper margins.
All of these writers employ the word to address racial injustice and to depict rich and nuanced portraits of Black people, and of others who live among us.
Some books are vile and willfully racist, and should be kept off the curriculum. But books by contemporary Black writers are ready to take their place. Teachers, curriculum designers and parents have a responsibility to provide students with thoughtful books about race and racism, to encourage students to reflect on these issues and to incubate critical thinking.
Colson Whitehead (The Underground Railroad)
At the same time, students could learn to analyze the motivations of those who seek to ban books. Why do some politicians and educators constantly condescend to young readers who, they deem, need protection? All of this classroom work requires research, hard work and context-setting on the part of teachers. Some will excel at this task, and others may not, but we can’t impede access to vital literature while awaiting perfect pedagogy. At any rate, parents and teachers constantly underestimate the intelligence of teenagers.
If we truly worry about protecting students from “harm” caused by the word “nigger,” then we have that much more need to discuss it in class. And if teachers cannot provide a safe and civilized space for students to learn about the hateful history of the word, if they must ignore the fact that many Black people have re-appropriated it, and if they cannot teach about the history and present lives of Black people in Canada, then how exactly are our students to be challenged?
Students need books by Black authors. Unflinching books that employ authentic language. Educators need to offer those books, and to lean on their research and their training to do so. Banning books with the word “nigger” does not protect students. It only protects educators from doing one of their most difficult but important jobs.
(Author photo illustrations: The Globe and Mail. Source photos: AP Photo, Getty Images, The Canadian Press, The Globe and Mail, The New York Times)