I have a few observations to offer and maybe a few remarks to make.

Azizi has never been hostile on this or any other thread she's posted. She is a serious researcher and seems to know lots about Black (African-American) history. Her contributions to threads above the line have been scholarly and educating, IMO. So, when one of the few 'people of colour' on the Mudcat starts a thread by saying "As I am defining it here, a "racial no no" is something that a White person says or does that is likely to cause trouble for him or her with African Americans or other people of color and/or other people who are concerned about racial political correctness", I want to sit back and have a good look.

I could tell y'all about living in south Harlem, working with many people of colour over the years, stuff I did to contribute to the civil rights movement, friends and situations that demonstrate I am not racist. However, I cannot tell you about being a Black man in North America because I am not Black. I can speak to my perception of the 'Black experience', but that would be words filtered through the thought processes of someone who has lived the 'White experience'. Azizi knows I use the words Black and White instead of other descriptors, and she's talked to me about that. She also knows you can take the boy out of the country but . . . .

In Grade 3, I went to the washroom one day and Wayne was there at the same time. Wayne was/is black. We found a quarter. ONE quarter: twenty-five cents. In a district where 'share' was not a word that had much currency (it was a verb, but its transitivity changed from moment to moment in that one could share or some other one would decide whose stuff would be shared with whom on one's behalf), we decided the only fair way to decide who kept the money was by going eeny-meeny-miney-mo. I started the little rhyme and got to, "Catch a nig...". That incident took place about fifty years ago and I can remember it today with a clarity that stuns me. I have seldom seen a look of hurt in someone's eyes that came close to the look in Wayne's. I learned at the age of seven or eight that words have incredible power to hurt. So too did Wayne.

At the age of 17 in New York City I had the pleasure--honour might be a better word--to be the warm-up act and emcee for a fellow named Len Chandler. Photo of Len taken in 1969 at a folk festival. . (A right click on the pic will show the site it's from.) Many of you will know Len or at least know of him. He wrote some fantastic songs. Anyway, he asked me who I liked as a songwriter. One of the names I tossed out was Stephen Foster. Len went up one side of me and down the other--this was in 1966. He wanted to know what I found so touching about 'Massa bein in de cole cole groun'. He later taught me his song, "To Be a Man."

I guess what I'm saying is this: The thing at the school in Berkley was ill-considered. Given a context as was noted by Azizi would have provided a raison d'etre for doing that particular song. As it was, they stepped on their cranks. And, Azizi, I recognize that I can learn what is not good to say, and maybe that is part of what sites like this are for. Good thread. Thank you for starting it.