Burn Down the Cabin

I will never forget the look in my father’s eye the day he taught me about the effect that the N-word has had on him. We rarely had talks like this and I had only truly seen him angry a handful of times, but on this unique occasion both happened. In his life, he has only been able to attach hatred and denigration to the word. It has always created a visceral, intensely negative reaction.

Many think of the N-word as the most damaging word to the black community, but I disagree. Though I can understand why a person might not use it, the N-word has become for me just as much a term of endearment and brotherhood as anything else. In my opinion, “Uncle Tom” represents the most destructive term within the black community.

Uncle Tom is the single most divisive term in the black vernacular. Unlike the N-word, no one can possibly use Uncle Tom in a positive or inclusive way. To call someone an Uncle Tom is to tell them that they do not belong. The term creates an inherently exclusionary dichotomy where so-called “real” blacks sit on one side and perceived race traitors sit on the other.

Calling someone an Uncle Tom implies that they somehow do not meet the necessary threshold of blackness required to qualify as legitimately black.

Using the term Uncle Tom as an insult implies a series of assumptions about black identity. Most importantly, it implies a singular, narrow understanding not only of what it means to be black but also how a black person should act. While the specifics vary, the underlying premise is that black people should associate primarily or at times exclusively with other black people. While gaining exposure to your own culture and people is without a doubt critical, limiting yourself to a single community or demanding a specific course of action in order to claim your own identity is beyond problematic.

On an even deeper level, calling someone an Uncle Tom presumes an intimate understanding of another person’s internal thought process and relationship with their racial identity. These two aspects are both too personal and private to ever call into question or to disrespect by making baseless presumptions.

To complicate matters, I believe that the name should not even be hurled at someone who, for some reason, has chosen to disassociate from the rest of the black community. Anyone that would supposedly warrant the title of Uncle Tom does not need to have the insult thrown his or her way. If a person genuinely feels estranged from the black community, voluntarily or otherwise, signs of disdain from the black community would only further alienate them. This would only exacerbate the supposed problem.

If anything, the black community should approach these people with compassion and empathy. Without a doubt, being black in America poses daily challenges that make it difficult just to get out of bed in the morning. I can fully understand the attempt to escape this constant persecution and cannot fault someone for attempting to do so. While no one can truly escape this reality and the attempt to do so is objectionable, we ought not respond to this attempt with anger. Instead we must try to educate and reintegrate these individuals into the greater community and do what we can to eliminate the racial prejudice that creates the impetus to do this.

Put plainly, calling another black person an Uncle Tom amounts to no less than self-hatred. Someone who feels the need to denigrate another black person for failing to meet a standard of blackness clearly suffers from deep-seated racial insecurity.

I have personally felt the sting of being called an Uncle Tom, both to my face and behind my back from people I have considered friends. Having someone call you an Uncle Tom does not hit you in the same way most insults do. Many insults attack something that either you cannot control or has only a superficial connection to your identity.

But the insult of Uncle Tom attacks my entire self, my whole identity. It says that I have actively chosen to forsake my race, my being, my history, my family, and my legacy. It says that I do not belong. Worst yet, it says that I have ignored my shackles and opted to promote my oppressor.

Jaime Cobham, ’17 is a government concentrator in Mather House. His column appears on alternate Tuesdays.