I'm a White Ally, So Yes, I Get to Do a Little Blaccent

Last month, a teenager filmed me at my local Whole Foods telling the cashier, “Chile, this oat milk be costing $6.49 today? The audacity. And that’s on tea.”

The cashier, whose name tag said Marcus, looked at me for a long time and asked if I needed a bag. I said, “Yes, king.” That part didn’t make the video. Conveniently.

The video has now been viewed 4.1 million times, and the comments section was, as they say, throwing tea. Many of the comments came from the Black community. One came from my daughter.

I’ve spent the past three weeks stepping back, sitting with the feedback, and centering Black voices. Now I’m ready to step forward and center mine.

I’ve done the work

Before anyone comes for me, here are my receipts. (Some of them are literal receipts.)

• I posted the black square on June 2, 2020, and left it up until August. Blackout Tuesday was, and I don’t say this lightly, my Selma.

• I’ve read White Fragility twice (Audible, 2x speed), so technically four times.

• I marched in a protest (June 2020, from the library to the Starbucks).

• I have a certificate in Unconscious Bias (Workday, 45 minutes, self-paced).

• My “In This House, We Believe” sign has been up since 2020. It’s badly faded. The HOA says it’s giving eyesore. I say it’s giving legacy.

• I use the medium-dark skin tone on all my emoji, in solidarity. 🙏🏾

• I’ve been invited to the cookout. Literally: my close friend Danielle’s son’s graduation party, 2023 (I saw it on Facebook). I brought my Greek yogurt potato salad, with raisins, and I’m told people still talk about it.

• My 23andMe came back 0.4% Sub-Saharan African. I’m not going to make a whole thing of it, but honestly? It explains a lot.

I’ve also done Ancestry.com, which revealed that my great-great-great-grandfather owned “several people” in South Carolina. I’ve done a lot of healing around that. Todd handles our finances, so we aren’t in a position to pay reparations right now. Instead, I pay them the only way I can: phonetically.

How it started

People ask where I learned to talk like this. Honestly, it just came out of me. One day in 2021 I opened my mouth at a Sweetgreen to ask for the dressing on the side, and what came out was, “Sis, I’m finna gonna need that on the side, periodt.” It felt like being chosen.

If I had to trace it, I got most of it from my gay best friend Tyler (white, but gay), who got it from RuPaul’s Drag Race, which got it from Paris Is Burning (directed by a white woman, which I find so inspiring), which got it from the Black and Latinx trans women of the New York ballroom scene. That makes me four degrees removed from the ballroom, which, if you think about it, is basically being in the ballroom. And since I’m an ally to the Black community and the LGBTQIA2S+ community, I’m what I like to call double-boosted.

The rest I picked up from Coach Deja on Peloton, who I consider a mentor and a close friend, and who I have never met. Every morning at 6 a.m. she tells me I’m that girl, and every morning I believe her.

My solidarity voice

When other white women do a blaccent, it’s appropriation, and I’ve posted about it. When I do it, I’ve done the reading.

Some people call it a blaccent. I call it my solidarity voice.

Black people code-switch every single day just to survive in white spaces. It’s exhausting, and they shouldn’t have to carry that alone. So I’ve decided to meet them halfway. Every time I say “whew, chile” at a Black-owned juice bar, I’m lifting a little of that burden off their shoulders and putting it on mine.

I’ve been in conversation with the Black community (Danielle) about all of this. When I asked her point-blank whether it was okay, she said, “I mean, you’re a grown woman.” Which, in AAVE, means yes.

My rules

I don’t do this carelessly. I have rules.

1. I always open with a culture acknowledgment. Before I speak to a Black person, I say, “I want to acknowledge that the language I’m about to use was created by Black communities, especially Black trans women, and that I am a guest in it.” Then I say, “Okay, hunty, so about my parking validation.”

2. I keep a Slang Jar. Every “chile” is a dollar, and at the end of the month it all goes to a bail fund. Last month was $412, which I think speaks for itself. The bail fund has asked me to stop including the notes.

3. I pay for emotional labor. Every time I ask Danielle whether something I said was okay, I Venmo her $5 with the memo “for ur labor 🙏🏾.” She has asked me to stop the questions and the Venmos. I’ve told her I can’t, in good conscience, stop paying her.

4. I read the room. I only use my solidarity voice where it’s welcome: Black-owned businesses, my daughter’s group chat, LinkedIn, and funerals.

At my grandmother’s funeral in April, I closed the eulogy with, “Grandma Joan was Mother. She ate and left no crumbs, and that’s on periodt.” She would have wanted that. (She said “colored” until 2019.) My uncle Rick walked out, which, given his politics, I’m counting as a win.

To my critics

People have asked me to stop. Those people include Danielle, my daughter, Todd, a woman at Sephora, the PTA, 4.1 million strangers, and, as of last Tuesday, HR.

HR has formally asked me to stop calling our CFO “hunty” on client calls. I’ve formally responded that this is tone policing. His name is Richard. He’s 71.

Todd says it makes him uncomfortable. I told him discomfort is where the growth happens. He’s been sleeping in the guest room, growing.

My daughter says I embarrass her in front of her friends, three of whom are Black. She’s fourteen, so she has a lot of unlearning ahead of her.

And to the Black creators who stitched my video with nothing but the word “ma’am”: I hear you. I see you. I’m holding space for you. I just wish you’d hold some for me.

So no, I won’t be stopping. I’ll keep using my solidarity voice at Whole Foods, at Sephora, on LinkedIn, and at every Juneteenth brunch I host, until every Black person in America feels seen by me, whether they like it or not.

Chile, anyways. And that’s on tea. 🙏🏾

A glossary for my fellow white allies (do the work before you try these at home)

• Chile (pronounced like the country): An expression of exasperation. I don’t know what the country has to do with it, and it’s not my place to ask.

• And that’s on tea: “And that’s the truth.” Add it to the end of any sentence for a little seasoning, which, let’s be honest, ladies, our community could use. 😂

• Periodt: Like “period,” but final. I always pronounce the T very clearly so no one thinks I’m making fun.

• Hunty: A blend of “honey” and “auntie.” A term of respect for an older woman, or Richard.

• Mother: An icon. You can’t give yourself the title, which is why I’ve asked my children to start calling me it.

• Ate: Did something perfectly. Not to be confused with “ate it,” which is what Uncle Rick said I did on his way out of the funeral, and which I’ve chosen to receive as a compliment.

• Nauseating: The highest compliment in ballroom culture. I tell Danielle she looks nauseating every chance I get.

• Blaccent: A slur. (See also: Karen.)

Editor’s note: This essay has been updated. An earlier version described Danielle as the author’s “best friend.”