Black English: An Underrated Bilingualism

Heritage High School in Ashburn is a gorgeous school. The main hallway is reminiscent of a college hall with high ceilings and well-appointed floors and walls. Despite the school’s newness, there’s a sense of weight, a sense of importance to the building, most likely derived from its stately appearance.

When I taught Spanish at Heritage in early 2009, I appreciated how much the school reflected the growing diversity of Loudoun County. The school seemed dynamic. The energy beamed through the students, through their engagement and their appreciation of each other’s differences.

Everyday when I drove off the exit from the Greenway, which I was sure had been completed several minutes before I got there, I knew my Spanish students were there to play ball.

***

During my teacher training, I was told to teach what’s relevant, not what’s interesting. I can appreciate the need to maintain curricular structure, but that doesn’t mean I'm good at it. At Heritage I was a “leave replacement” teacher, so it should come as no surprise that a number of my lessons went astray as we moved towards the end of our 75-minute block.

One class stood out because of its level of energy and cynicism. Having about 27 students, the class often buzzed. As you might expect, students of different ethnicities were well represented. The class kept me honest. If I didn’t come prepared, they let me know.

One afternoon, as our lesson came to a close, we touched on the value of language. I presented an argument I’d heard in my Linguistics 101 class during college: that no one language is any more valuable than another. Spanish, I began, is just as valuable as English, as Arabic, as Chinese, et cetera. I then braced myself as I took my argument to a new level: Black English (BE).

***

Where I went to high school in Arlington, we would have assemblies celebrating diversity. The students packed the auditorium and performed traditional dances or spoke about what America meant to them. The message was a positive one: although we were from different backgrounds, we were one America, united in our culture and values.

Indian culture, Arab culture and Somali culture: these were cultures with a rich history. Assemblies provided a showcase for foreign beliefs and, in particular, languages. Somehow, Black English was always left out.

***

Black English, also labeled African American Vernacular, presents a challenge.

On the one hand, one of language’s most powerful attributes is its ability to identify a speaker with a particular socio-economic group. Language can produce a sense of pride for a culture. Peoples around the world like the Basque, the Welsh and the Native American work hard to preserve dying languages.

Secondly, language sets one culture apart from another. In American public schools, where tests and curriculum are often standardized, language differences create friction. African American young people enter a school system in the United States that’s based on white middle class values. They are expected to adapt, and their language is no exception. But much like Latino students who leave the culture of the school to return to a Spanish-speaking home, African American students return home to Black English. African Americans, in a sense, are asked to be bilingual.

***

In a famous 1979 court case involving the Ann Arbor school district, the parents of BE speakers made just such an argument. They maintained that the school district was labeling African American students as deficient due to their native use of Black English. The ruling for the plaintiff eventually legitimized Black English as a dialect worthy of legal protection, or at least appreciation. The ruling also stated that teachers should use all available resources to support students who speak Black English the way they would other non-Standard English speakers.

Today there are even school districts that provide classes educating Black English speakers in an effort to eventually "mainstream" them. 

***

Black English speakers outside the classroom are no exception. Nowhere am I reminded of this more than at NBA news conferences. Superstar athletes know that much of their earning power depends on reaching a primarily white audience. They adapt.

Take for example Dwayne Wade. Wade grew up in South Chicago under really tough circumstances. Take a look at a video exploring his roots and listen closely to the use of the verb “to be” and the word “seen”. These aren’t arbitrary language patterns isolated to one individual. They also aren’t a product of poor education. They’re part of a pattern of speech that reaches back through history to African languages.

Now listen to his press conference from last week. The difference is subtle, but his speech leans more towards Standard English. He does however slip into BE, “that’s the reason that we here.” It’s only natural, he’s code-switching.

*** 

Back at Heritage High, getting adolescent students excited about academia after sitting for an hour was a challenge. But after I presented Black English as a measurable dialect of English, with characteristics of Caribbean creole dialects by way of African languages, it became apparent I had touched something sensitive.

It's difficult to describe the look that spread across the face of one African American girl sitting front and center for my impromptu linguistics lesson. She reacted as if she'd just been woken up.

“Wait,” she said. “Black people have their own language?”