Nels Abbey’s article raises an important debate about the use of racial slurs and how they are interpreted in legal and social contexts (A racist screaming the N-word and a Black person using it in conversation are poles apart. Why can’t the CPS see it?, 24 March). While I understand that intent and context matter, I firmly believe that racial slurs should not be used in public spaces and platforms – regardless of who is saying them.
I am a black woman. But the idea that because I belong to that ethnic group it would be acceptable for another black person to refer to me using the N-word – regardless of context – is wrong. I would be offended. That word is derogatory to me, and its history is rooted in oppression and dehumanisation.
The concept of intracommunal language refers to linguistic practices used in a specific community. Some argue that racial slurs, when used among black people, fall under this category and carry a different meaning. But does this truly apply to words that originated as tools of oppression? Can a slur ever be fully reclaimed when its historical weight remains unchanged? I don’t believe so. Normalising the word in a community does not erase its painful history or prevent others from weaponising it.
On social media, where context is often lost, racial slurs can lead to conflict and division. A total ban on them across public platforms would provide a clear and enforceable standard. It would eliminate debates over intent and ensure that no one is subject to the harm these words can cause. This isn’t about censorship, it’s about creating a more respectful society. If the goal is to reduce racism, we should stop giving power to racial slurs by removing them from public spaces altogether.
Sherri Davis
London
I found Nels Abbey’s use of the example of Marieha Hussain and her placard depicting Rishi Sunak and Suella Braverman as “coconuts”, and saying that the word was a “satirical critique”, deeply offensive. As a British Asian who has spent their life being called a coconut by community and family members, I know how hurtful and offensive it can be. To be called this by someone in your community is to be excluded by the community you were born into and grew up in. I’m not saying the judge wasn’t right to throw out the case, but I found the minimising of this offensive word troubling.
Name and address supplied
Nels Abbey raises interesting points about hate crime legislation. The underlying problem is a persistent misunderstanding. Equality does not mean treating everyone the same. It means taking positive steps to level the playing field. The first steps being to acknowledge that the playing field is far from level and to understand structural inequalities of power such as institutional racism and misogyny, disadvantages based on class, and the unrelenting barriers faced by disabled people.
Of course, those who benefit from inequalities of power are generally resistant to challenges to those inequalities. The liberal state tries to be fair to everyone, so hate crime legislation, while recognising that some groups require additional protection, then offers the same protection to the more powerful groups.
Vociferous (groundless) complaints about two-tier policing, combined with a lack of understanding of the context of inequality, result in the police and Crown Prosecution Service bending over backwards to be seen as fair and impartial. As Nels says, it is time for a conversation about what is fair and what is in the public interest.
Finally, Nels and others should remember that many lesbians and gay men object to being called “queer”. That term too should only be used by those who identify with it, and only to describe or refer to others who identify with it.
Caroline Airs
Newcastle upon Tyne
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