My Why
It Started with Exhaustion. It Became My Purpose.
Saturday, June 26, 2020. I woke up early, came downstairs, and turned on the news. George Floyd's name was everywhere. That word—nigger—was being thrown around like it always has been. A weapon. A slur. A reminder of pain that goes back 400 years.
But this time, something was different. This time, I wasn't just angry about the word itself. I was exhausted watching how we responded to it.
I saw young people—teenagers, children—reacting with rage and pain to a word they didn't even fully understand. All they knew was what their parents told them: "Don't let anyone call you that." But nobody explained why. Nobody taught them the history. Nobody gave them the power to respond differently.
That's when the Spirit moved me.
I sat down and really looked at that word. Not with fear or anger, but with intention. And I started thinking about who we really are as Black people. Our attributes. Our strengths. Our extraordinary nature that has allowed us to survive and thrive despite everything thrown at us.
I took each letter—N.I.G.G.E.R.—and began matching it to our truth:
Naturally intelligent. Every Black leader, innovator, and everyday hero making a difference in the world.
Intelligent. Our professors, scientists, teachers, lawyers, doctors, nurses, contractors. The inventions we created that the world still uses today.
Gifted. Our rappers, musicians, actors, athletes. We dominate in every field we choose to enter.
Generous. Even when we have little, we give. We lift each other up. We are one of the most selfless races there is.
Extraordinary. Look at what we've endured—slavery, lynchings, beatings, total disregard as human beings. And yet we humble ourselves, swallow our pride, and still rise to the top with our heads held high.
Race. That's who we are. Distinctive. Unique. Powerful.
In that moment, everything became clear. We don't have to keep giving this word power over us. We can reclaim it. We can redefine it. We can teach our children to hear it and say, "Thank you for the compliment"—and mean it.
That's when the Extraordinary Black Race movement was born.
Why This Approach Is Different
For centuries, we've been told to ignore that word. To rise above it. To not let it bother us. But here's the reality: it does bother us. It hurts. And telling people to "just ignore it" doesn't work when you don't give them the tools to process it.
The Extraordinary Black Race movement gives our community—especially our children—a different framework entirely.
Instead of teaching them to react with anger, we're teaching them to respond with pride. Instead of letting that word tear down their self-esteem, we're showing them it can build it up. Instead of avoiding the conversation, we're creating a new one.
This approach works because it addresses both the external and internal problem:
Externally, we're putting pressure on the institutions that define language—the dictionaries—to recognize how this word is being reclaimed and redefined by our community.
Internally, we're empowering Black people to change their relationship with the word entirely. When your child hears it on the playground, in a song, or even in hate, they won't crumble. They'll stand tall. Because they know what it really means.
And here's what makes this truly revolutionary: when white people ask, "Why can a Black person call another Black person a nigger, but when I say it, it's offensive?"—we have an answer that changes everything.
We tell them: "It's not offensive anymore. It's an acronym. It means Naturally Intelligent, Gifted, Generous, Extraordinary Race. So when you say it, you're complimenting us. Thank you."
That takes the weapon away. That shifts the power. That changes the entire dynamic of how this word functions in our society.
Some people will think this is too bold. Too ambitious. Too impossible.
But I believe in the power of peaceful education. I believe in the resilience of our community. And I believe that when we take control of the narrative about who we are, nothing can stop us.
The word nigger was created to define a color but was turned into a way to hurt and demean people of color—to keep us downtrodden with low or no self-esteem.
It's time we took that power back.