I think that the thing is, unless a word is aimed at you as a minority, you don’t get to decide if it is reclaimable, or not. That means that unless you are a person of colour, you don’t get to make a call on whether it is ok for it to be reclaimed. If “kike” is a word aimed at you then you could choose to try to reclaim it. For exactly the reason that you are the target of it.

Words are not fixed and immutable, they change with time, location and the specific context in which they are used. It is inevitable that this leads to inconsistent meaning and morality of their use, depending when, where and who. If this were not the case language would become stagnant and immutable.

Whether a word is “good” or “bad” is a reflection of the moral and political power we invest in them, is a reflection of the power struggles and imbalances we create as cultures. Words do not have uniform meaning, because we do not have perfect accord. As our thoughts and philosophies diverge and compete, so do our concepts and word meanings used within those structures.

This means there can be empowerment for a discriminated group in taking control of the language for and about them. Particularly in reclaiming a word. In reclaiming a word, a group can remove some of the sting, can start to gain some agency around how they are talked about, especially if that word is taboo when used by someone outside the group. Whether one word becomes reclaimed and another doesn’t is entirely down to the politics within the group itself.

Is it linguistically logical? No. It is politically and socially logical however.

Rebecca – agreed 100% about sticking up for our own. But would that mean, then, that I – in theory! – would be “allowed” to use the word “kike” simply because I can say that I’m Jewish so it’s in reference to my own people?

My point is just that there are boundaries that society tells us we shouldn’t cross – a white person using the n-word with a friendly meaning/tone/conotation/whatever – but those boundaries aren’t consistent. What is deemed okay in one circumstance is completely not okay in another, and I think that’s what you were getting at in the original post, yes? I suppose that none of what I’ve said here answers your question, though; I have no idea how to explain *why* one word is okay and another isn’t… sigh. Good times w/the rambling though, eh?

Likewise, while I agree that it’s not logical or consistent, I think it makes sense – emotionally and socially – that a black man or woman could be offended if a white person says the n-word, and not if another black person does. I’m not saying this is a good thing, but do think it’s an understandable and human thing.

I do agree that’s different, however, from anything remotely logical…

Unfortunately, the n-word has taken on two different meanings (ending in “-er” as the derogatory version and ending in “-a” as the friendly synonym for “buddy”) and that has created confusion along the way. I just don’t believe that it is okay for either to be acceptable for black people to say and then turn around and say that it’s not okay for white people to say. Yes, a black person using the n-word is their perogative and if they think it’s okay to use then I certainly am not going to convince them otherwise. My main point, though, is that I don’t think people can have it both ways. I think that this is a black and white (no pun intended!) situation: either using the n-word (as a friendly greeting!) is acceptable or it isn’t.

I only have my own experiences interacting with the world/society as a white, Jewish woman so obviously that gives me a set perspective. But that doesn’t make it okay for me to abuse that status by making derogatory jokes about being white, Jewish or a woman.

By “quaint” I meant that, in my immediate sphere of experience – school, friends, family, work – I cannot think of an experience I would consider antisemitic. (Or even just mind-numbingly ignorant of Judaism.) I completely agree that this is a result of luck: luck of geography, of the communities in which I exist, luck of the culture in which I grew up and by which I’m surrounded.

I shouldn’t have used “quaint” because it’s dismissive, and that was not my intent. (I tried to narrow my scope by talking about antisemitism as it applies to me, personally, but that wasn’t clear enough.)

I am aware of antisemitism existing in the larger world. I was not trying to dismiss the existence of antisemitism in the modern world and, again, I am sorry that I did so. But it does feel like something that happens to other people, that couldn’t happen to me. Undoubtedly, that’s not true; someone who is antisemitic isn’t going to be interested in hearing about my nuanced relationship with Judaism or whether I “really” identify as Jewish. And I think I understand, intellectually, how antisemitism – other-ing in general – can work. I understand it on an emotional level when it comes to trans issues. But I’m dissociated enough from Judaism, secular enough, and lucky enough, that antisemitism doesn’t hit me in the gut.

I know you weren’t asking for an apology but, again, I don’t think your post came off as harsh. I spoke without thinking through the weight of my words (or lack thereof) and that made me dismissive. I’m sorry, and thank you for calling me out on it.

“Antisemitism” is a totally quaint notion to me personally: I’ve never experienced anything I would possibly call antisemitism, and the idea that people consider “The Jews” the source of any problems seems totally ridiculous to me.

Uh, wow. Well. Consider yourself really, really lucky.

I’ve witnessed, experiences, or been subjected to antisemitism way more times than I can count, from countless stupid questions to babbling gibberish mocking Yiddish to being told that I’m not allowed to have any opinion about Israel because I’m “clearly biased” (I was trying to criticize the IDF, not that he cared to let me finish) to once having a college professor announce, to me and the entire class, that I was the only Jew in the room, which sent adrenaline through my entire body like a bucket of ice water. I’m also the granddaughter of Holocaust survivors. My family is still palpably damaged by the Holocaust. When I was eight years old, my grandmother sat me down to tell me, it detail, exactly what it means to be a Jew.

I’m glad you’ve never encountered that particular brand of hate and ignorance, but (and I’d say this to any who said they thought the idea of antisemitism was “quaint”), you might want to check out some blogs about it to see what you’ve been missing. Have you ever looked at The Debate Link or ignoblus?