SUZY: I see people having lots of conversations about the liberal use of AAVE (African American Vernacular English) by non-black people, and I especially see people use it a lot to accentuate their “personality”—to give them a sort of edge. But your words should speak for themselves. My test goes as follows: If you wouldn’t say it aloud, or it doesn’t feel natural when you say it aloud, or if you can’t say it aloud without using a ridiculous voice? You probably shouldn’t use it at all!

JAMIA: It always rankles me when I hear white people use terms like “bae”, “turnt up” and “baby daddy” with a minstrel mockery–tinged inflection. In California, I see non-Spanish-speaking people cavalierly using Mexican slang and referring to people as “gringos” and “cholos” in the same way.

SUZY: IT ANNOYS ME. You are the gringo. YOU. ARE. THE GRINGOOOOO.

ESTELLE: I also just wanted to say something more about how people feel when we hear hurtful language. Sometimes it’s just a shock! I remember a man yelled at me and some other friends once, “Go back to your own country!” And I was like, I AM ALREADY IN MY OWN COUNTRY LOL. I thought it was ridiculous and laughed purely out of shock. But there are so many other ways we might respond to such words.

Citizen, the book I mentioned before, is such a devastating document revealing the impact of hateful words and action on a person. Rankine details different instances of racism towards her and others, and it’s a powerful work showing how wearying and helpless-making such experience makes a person feel. There’s even a set of behaviors, called John Henryism, to describe the terrible impact on black people of coping with stressors like racism. Reading the perspectives of diverse people is generally great for learning about what behavior and language might hurt others.

OK, let’s talk about the specifics of calling in. What are the most effective techniques for being heard? I like to think of this in the abstract because I tend to lose all sense of planning when I’m angry or upset. I particularly find heated conversations difficult to navigate in terms of this, because I lose my ability to put ideas together coherently.

JAMIA: I often think the medium means as much as the method. A few months ago, a white activist friend of mine posted a joke about race that turned some people off. I received a text message from a woman of color who knew we were friends asking me to reach out to my other friend to ask her to take it down. She figured that it would be helpful and more impactful for her to hear this critique privately, from a friend, and it turned out to be true. She also was concerned that she might be embarrassed or hurt, since she’s an ally who has a long track record of doing anti-racist work.

By the time I was about to reach out to her, another friend compelled her to take it down and apologize before I reached her. I thought this was a great example of community peer-to-peer accountability that didn’t turn into a shitstorm. Of course, this wouldn’t apply in all situations, nor would it be a reasonable response for something of greater offense, but in this nuanced case, people knew the person in question’s heart was in the right place.

ESTELLE: I like to revisit hairy situations outside of the heat of the moment. The next day, I might say something like, “Do you remember when you said X? It upset me because Y.” I can think about it more logically once I’m not right in the eye of the storm.

LOLA: I always err on the side of saying something even if it’s been a while, even if it’s like, “I know it’s been a couple days, but I like you and I don’t want anything to come into our friendship, so I want to let you know that XYZ.” This also works the other way. One time, I used the wrong pronouns for someone I had just met at a party and they didn’t correct me, and I felt terrible. The conversation continued for a couple hours and at one point I jumped in, “Hey, this is awkward, but I think you’re really cool and want to be your friend. I think I used the wrong pronouns for you before, and if I did I’m sorry, I should have asked. Could you let me know?”

When it comes to my own strategy upon hearing something hurtful, I’ll make a joke if I possibly can—a new friend was talking about how she was liking living in Asheville, North Carolina, because of “the organic grocery stores and coffee houses and unshaven lesbians everywhere.” So I said, “Like me?” and flashed her my hairy pits. She remembered that I’m queer and laughed, and then we just moved on.

ESTELLE: Are there times when we might choose not to call someone out—say, if we’re in a hostile environment, or feel unsafe?

JAMIA: Sometimes it is scary to think about what kind of retaliation may follow calling someone out. I have felt this way in a few circumstances. Once was when I was the only woman of color in a sports bar in the deep South. I was with a lesbian friend who got in an argument with a drunk man who freaked out when she rebuffed his advances. I told the man to calm down and be respectful, but I didn’t really call him out about his offensive language because we were isolated and in a hostile space. My priority was to get us out of the bar and to protect her from him, since he was beginning to get physical.

Another time, I was called a race-traitor and whore when I was riding the train with my non-black then-boyfriend. I didn’t yell back at the jerk who yelled at me until after he got off the train so he couldn’t harm me. I ended up giving him a piece of my mind and I laughed when the doors slammed in his face.

ESTELLE: I am so sorry that happened to you. But I think you were absolutely right not to take it up with those people—if you are in danger of physical harm or psychological harm, it is totally your prerogative not to engage. You can choose not to engage any time you wish, full-stop—that is important to remember.