“WHAT’S up, my [N-word]?!” When I moved to the Philippines in 2015, one major culture shock I experienced was hearing the N-word being tossed around so carelessly and casually among young Filipinos. The first time I heard it, I remember my shoulders and spine tensed up. I cringed in confusion and shock, and was taken back to the one time I used the N-word.

Rewind to my freshman year of college. My Black American roommate and I were singing along to Trey Songz. And then, with my eyes closed and a big smile on my face, I made the mistake of singing the N-word so loudly and proudly. My roommate stopped the music. “Don’t say that word,” she said sternly. “Why?” I asked, genuinely confused. “Just don’t,” she replied.

Ever since then, the N-word has been completely axed from my vocabulary. When I hear people use the N-word in the Philippines, I feel a responsibility to correct them, to challenge their usage of the word, to say something — but I have always failed to do so. If someone were to ask me, “Why can’t I use the word?” I know that “Just don’t” would not be a sufficient response. I had never looked into the history of the N-word until recently.

Non-Black people should not use the N-word because its origin in slavery has not been lost.

To quote American author and journalist Ta-Nehisi Coates, “Words don’t have meaning without context.” The N-word is deeply entrenched in a long history of suffering and pain. It was used by slave owners to demean and dehumanize Black slaves, and to perpetuate their existence as inferior and inhuman objects being put to use. It is a word that positions Black people as morally, economically and socially disadvantaged. Thus, the N-word echoes a violent system of oppression. Given this context, it is understandable for the word to elicit anger, frustration and annoyance among the Black community when it is actively used by non-Black people.

In an effort to counteract the original word’s hateful history of Black subjugation, Black people have taken ownership of the slur and have successfully divested the N-word of its original meaning, imbuing it with a completely new, approachable meaning when exchanged among the Black community. This new usage of the N-word, primarily the soft version with the hard “r” dropped, has become an expression of solidarity, a symbol of shared healing and a permanent piece of Black culture.

But, that word lacks the same meaning when used by anyone who is not Black. When nonBlack people say the N-word, it is a reminder of the spiteful history associated with the word, and it often incites a strong sense of discomfort among Black people.

“I personally wince every time I hear someone using the N-word here,” said Joshua Poulard, a Black American living in Pampanga. “People who use the N-word in the Philippines seem to do it because they think it is cool. Black American culture is seen as a commodity, as something that is ‘cool,’ but often nonBlack Americans don’t understand the history and the nuance of our culture.”

When questioned about the dichotomy between degrading Black culture and finding it “cool,” Poulard replied: “I do think it is possible for people to find Black American culture to be ‘cool’ while also directly making fun of it. That is what exists in the United States, where people will dance on TikTok to popular songs by Black American artists and, in the same breath, make fun of someone for a stereotype associated with Black Americans, without seeing the issue. When you see Black American culture as a commodity, it allows this type of disassociation to occur.”

The fact that the N-word survives to this day is an act of redemption by Black people. The N-word survives under the conditions that they have inscribed for it, and we must respect those conditions. When non-Black people vocalize the Nword, it cannot logically signify Black brotherhood and sisterhood.

So, to my fellow Filipinos, stop using the N-word. It is not ours to use. I have heard people make similar excuses, saying, “It’s not that deep” or “It’s just a word.” Perhaps, for many Filipinos, it just feels like a simple word because we have not lived the Black experience. And that’s the key to keep in mind: We will never fully understand or empathize with the Black experience because we have not lived the Black experience.

Arienne Calingo is the communications specialist for the Religious Liberty Initiative at Notre Dame Law School and is responsible for strategizing and executing the RLI’s marketing efforts. She has spoken about diversity and inclusion issues at various venues, including Harvard University, Fulbright Thailand, and the British Council. She graduated from Harvard University with a degree in international education policy.