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So, What’s The Big Deal With Starting A Sentence With ‘So’?

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SEPTEMBER 3, 20151:22 PM ET But it’s still a thing!

So, What’s The Big Deal With Starting A Sentence With ‘So’?

To listen to the media tell it, “so” is busting out all over — or at least at the beginning of a sentence. New York Times columnist Anand Giridharadas calls “so” the new “um” and “like”; others call it a plague and a fad.

It’s like a lot of other grammatical fixations: Not everybody cares about it, but the ones who do care care a whole lot. When NPR’s Weekend Edition asked listeners last year to pick the most-misused word or phrase in the language, that sentence-initial “so” came in in second place, right behind “between you and I” and ahead of venerable bugbears like misusing “literally” and confusing “who” and “whom.” That’s a meteoric rise for a peeve that wasn’t even on the radar a decade ago.

NPR itself has been singled out for overuse of “so” by both interviewees and hosts. That prompted the NPR head of standards and practices to calculate how many times the hosts and reporters on the major NPR news programs had started sentences with “so” in a single week in August of 2014. When the total came to 237, he urged them to look for alternatives.

But not so fast. When you break that weekly figure down, it only comes to one sentence beginning with “so” every eight or 10 minutes. That isn’t actually very many, particularly when you’re running a lot of interviews. After all, “so” is a conversational workhorse. It announces a new topic, it connects causes to results, it sets up a joke. “So, what’s it like being Justin Bieber?” “So, do the low interest rates help farmers?” “So three gastroenterologists walk into a bar.”

It’s like a lot of other grammatical fixations: Not everybody cares about it, but the ones who do care care a whole lot.

Geoff Nunberg

Starting sentences with “so” isn’t a trend or a thing. However it may strike you, people aren’t doing it any more frequently than they were 50 or 100 years ago. The only difference is that back then nobody had much of a problem with it. When F. Scott Fitzgerald’s editor Maxwell Perkins sat down with him to go over the manuscript of The Great Gatsby, he didn’t say: “Scott — this last line. ‘So, we beat on, boats against the current’ etc. etc.? I think we need to go with ‘thus.’ “

So, why the recent hue and cry about those sentences beginning with “so”? In part, you could blame the quirk of perception I think of as the Andy Rooney effect, where you suddenly become keenly aware of a common word that’s always been part of the conversational wallpaper. Somebody says, “Have you noticed how everybody’s saying ‘OK’ before they hang up the phone?” and all at once the word starts jumping out at you, even though people have been using it that way forever.

Many of the complaints about sentences beginning with “so” are triggered by a specific use of the word that’s genuinely new. It’s the “so” that you hear from people who can’t answer a question without first bringing you up to speed on the backstory. I go to the Apple Store and ask the guy at the Genius Bar why my laptop is running slow. He starts by saying, “So, Macs have two kinds of disk permissions …” If that “so” were a chapter title in a Victorian novel, it would read, “In which it is explained what the reader must know before his question can be given a proper answer.”

Thank you for reading Capturing Voices. This post is public so feel free to share it. It’s taken from a 2015 NPR podcast, here’s the link: https://www.npr.org/2015/09/03/432732859/so-whats-the-big-deal-with-starting-a-sentence-with-so But it’s still so pertinent to capturing the spoken word!

To my ear, that backstory “so” is merely a little geeky, but it rouses some critics to keening indignation. A BBC host says speakers use it to sound important and intellectual. A columnist at Fast Company warns that it undermines your credibility. A psychologist writes that it’s a weasel word that people use to avoid giving a straight answer.

That’s a lot to lay on the back of a little blue-collar conjunction like “so.” But that backstory “so” can stand in for people’s impatience with the experts who use it. When you hear a labor economist or computer scientist begin an answer with “so,” they’re usually telling us that things are more complicated than we thought, and maybe more complicated than we really want to know. That may be why they were called in in the first place, but as Walter Lippmann once said, the facts exceed our curiosity.

That backstory “so” puts me on guard, too, even when I hear it coming out of my own mouth. Usually it just introduces some background qualification that the question calls out for, as in, “So … German isn’t actually a romance language.” But sometimes it announces some nugget of specialized linguistic knowledge that I feel the need to share. If that “so” were a chapter title in a Victorian novel, it would read, “In which the reader is asked, ‘Are you sitting comfortably?’ “

Scientists have been using that backstory “so” among themselves since the 1980s, but its recent spread is probably due to the tech boom. In his 2001 book The New New Thing, Michael Lewis noted that programmers always started their answers with “so.” That’s around the time when I first heard it, working at a Silicon Valley research center. Mark Zuckerberg answers questions with “so” all the time: “So, it comes down to the economics …” “So one of the services that the government wanted to include …” But by now that backstory “so” is endemic among members of the explaining classes — the analysts, scientists and policy wonks who populate the Rolodexes of CNBC and The PBS NewsHour.

To my ear, that backstory “so” is merely a little geeky, but it rouses some critics to keening indignation. A BBC host says speakers use it to sound important and intellectual. A columnist at Fast Company warns that it undermines your credibility. A psychologist writes that it’s a weasel word that people use to avoid giving a straight answer.

That’s a lot to lay on the back of a little blue-collar conjunction like “so.” But that backstory “so” can stand in for people’s impatience with the experts who use it. When you hear a labor economist or computer scientist begin an answer with “so,” they’re usually telling us that things are more complicated than we thought, and maybe more complicated than we really want to know. That may be why they were called in in the first place, but as Walter Lippmann once said, the facts exceed our curiosity.

That backstory “so” puts me on guard, too, even when I hear it coming out of my own mouth. Usually it just introduces some background qualification that the question calls out for, as in, “So … German isn’t actually a romance language.” But sometimes it announces some nugget of specialized linguistic knowledge that I feel the need to share. If that “so” were a chapter title in a Victorian novel, it would read, “In which the reader is asked, ‘Are you sitting comfortably?’ “

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Revisiting Adept’s Style Guide on Ms.

Here at Adept, we use Ms. for all references to women unless her marital status is germane to the topic.

From our friends at Dictionary.com

Beth McLaughlin

3 min ago

Here at Adept, we use Ms. for all references to women unless her marital status is germane to the topic, i.e., Mrs. Colin handed me the DNR documentation for her husband. If the preferred gender of the subject is unknown, we recommend M

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When addressing strangers, authority figures, and in formal situations, it is considered polite to use an honorific, or title, to address them. The most frequently used honorifics are gendered male or female, which may not always be appropriate. In this article, we are going to review the most common honorifics, the alternative Mx., and how and when to use these titles.

What is the gender neutral term for Mr.Mrs., and Ms.?

The most commonly used gender-neutral honorific is Mx., pronounced [ miks ] or [ muhks ]. The first recorded use of Mx. was in 1977, where it was suggested as a less-sexist alternative to the traditional Mr.Mrs., and Miss. These forms are not only highly gendered, but they also link a woman’s status to whether she is married or not.

The honorific Mr., from master, is used for men regardless of marital status. The titles Mrs. and Miss, from mistress, are used for married and unmarried women, respectively. To reduce the emphasis on marriage, the alternative Ms. was coined in the 1950s for women regardless of marital status.

You can learn more about all of these forms and where they come from in the article “Mr., Mrs., Miss, and Ms.: What They Mean And How To Use Them.”

Just as Ms. solved the sexist problem that a woman was described based on her relationship to men, the form Mx. addressed the gendered nature of titles more generally. Although it was coined in the 1970s, it didn’t gain traction until the 2000s as there came to be greater mainstream acceptance of nonbinary or gender-nonconforming people (see A Language Of Pride: Understand The Terms Around LGBTQ Identity).

Mx. is now used as a preferred title for many who identify as neither man nor woman. This is not its only use, however. Like other gender-neutral forms of address, Mx. can also be useful when addressing an audience whose gender is unknown. A good example of this is on forms that use a title (think: Mx. _____).

While Mx. is the most common gender-neutral title, it isn’t the only one. Another alternative for nonbinary or gender-noncomforming people is Misc., short for miscellaneous, from the Latin for “mixed.” Similarly, the alternative title M. does away with all the gendered information that comes after the M in the other titles and is a simple way to express a variety of genders or lack of gender. Another option is Ind., short for individual. As with all titles, pronouns, names, and so forth, one should be mindful to use the language that a person uses for themselves.

Along those lines, professional titles are gender-neutral and may be preferred by people of any gender. The most common of these is Dr., short for doctor, which is used for Ph.D. holders and medical doctors. Captain and coach are also common titles that can be held in a variety of settings. People in the military can be referred to by their ranks, as in General or Sergeant. Members of the clergy in many faiths are also typically referred to by specific honorifics, such as Reverend or Rabbi.

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What does Mx. stand for?

Mx. is a riff on the classic gendered titles Mr. and Ms. It keeps the M and swaps the gendered element of these terms for the gender-neutral XThe letter X has historically been used as a symbol for the unknown or indescribable. In this way, it is perfect for a gender-neutral honorific. Mx. shows respect while leaving the gender unknown or unarticulated. Other examples of words that use the letter X as an indication of gender-nonconformity that you may have come across are folx and womxn.

The purpose of using these titles, whether it’s Mr.Ms.Mx., or anything else, is to convey respect. (They are called “honorifics,” not “ruderifics,” after all.) Because that’s the goal, whatever title someone chooses for themselves is the one you should use for them. And whether you are nonbinary, gender nonconforming, or simply just not interested in being called a gendered title, if Mx. or any of these alternatives don’t feel fitting to you, you can always coin your own!

Throwback Thursdays: Momsen Lung: How Swede Momsen’s Diving Lung Changed Submarine Rescues

An article by Glenn Barnett for Warfare History Network. Read this article and other similar articles at www.warfarehistorynetwork.com.

It is commonly said that war is one of the biggest driving forces for technological advancement. This article tells the story of Charles ‘Swede’ Momsen, an innovator and advocate of the U.S. Navy’s submarine fleet who was inspired by his own experience in submarines to create the first primitive underwater rebreather.

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In July 1943, the American submarine USS Tinosa was on patrol in Japanese waters when she came across an unescorted oil tanker. It was big at 20,000 tons. There were only a few that size in the Japanese fleet, and her sinking would be a huge blow to the enemy. The Tinosa maneuvered for position at right angles to the lumbering tanker and fired four torpedoes. At least two of them struck their target but none exploded.

Alarmed, the tanker raised speed and fled. The Tinosa fired again from an angle behind. This time two torpedoes hit their target and exploded, leaving the tanker dead in the water. The Tinosa moved in for the kill. At 900 yards the skipper of the Tinosa fired eight more fish at the sitting duck. All failed to explode.

It was the last straw. Since the beginning of the war, submarine skippers had complained that the Navy’s new Mark 6 torpedoes failed to explode on target. Thousands of tons of Japanese shipping had escaped unharmed due to the faulty workings of the Mark 6. Yet, the Division of Naval Ordnance claimed that there was nothing wrong with the torpedoes. They claimed that the failure must be attributable to the crews of the submarines.

The Navy’s Torpedo Problem

Adm. Charles Momsen.

Adm. Charles Momsen.

When the Tinosa returned to Pearl Harbor, her skipper complained bitterly to the commander of submarines Pacific, Vice Admiral Charles Lockwood. Yet, when the Tinosa’s last torpedo was examined, no defect could be found. Lockwood had a big problem. He had frustrated and angry submariners on the one hand and an intransigent Ordnance Department in Washington on the other. He turned to his friend, Captain Charles “Swede” Momsen, for advice. Momsen was the commander of a submarine squadron but, more importantly, he was a hands-on problem solver who knew how to get things done.

Unwilling to wait for the ponderous Navy bureaucracy in Washington to solve the problem, Momsen suggested that a target range be set up on the nearby island of Kahoolawe. The island has sheer cliffs rising from shallow water. Momsen suggested that torpedoes be fired at the cliffs and any duds be examined.

The first fish ran true and exploded against the cliffs, but the second was a dud and sank to the bottom 50 feet down. Momsen jumped into the water with his snorkel gear, located the torpedo, and supervised the recovery of the live warhead. The torpedo was gingerly lifted onto the deck of the service ship Widgeon and examined. Even with 685 pounds of explosives in the warhead, Momsen did not hesitate to take the exploder apart. He found that the firing pin had not struck the primer cap hard enough to cause an explosion.

The workshops at Pearl Harbor modified the firing pins, and submariners found new lethality in their long, lonely vigils at sea. The Ordnance Department sheepishly admitted to the defect.

Momsen received the Legion of Merit for his successful efforts at discovering and fixing the torpedo problem that had plagued the submarine fleet for a year and a half. It was not the first or the last time that Swede Momsen would save the day.

Requesting Transfer to a “Pigboat”

Born in New York and raised in Minnesota, Momsen was appointed to Annapolis from his hometown of St. Paul. He was commissioned in 1919. After spending two years on the battleship Oklahoma, he requested a transfer to submarines. His commanding officer advised against it. Despite the path of destruction made by German U-boats in the Great War, the Navy was still the realm of the battleships and their advocates. “Pigboat” was the derisive name given to the submarine. Their officers and crews inhabited the lower rungs of the social ladder.

In the 1920s, submarines were cramped and uncomfortable. Duty aboard was primitive with no showers, no toilets, and no refrigeration. Meat spoiled rapidly. Fruit and vegetables lasted little longer. If a submarine should sink, her whole crew could be lost.

In 1925, that is just what happened. In September of that year, the S-51 was inadvertently rammed and sunk by a passing ocean liner. Momsen, in command of her sister ship, the S-1, was the first on the scene of the disaster and the first to find the sunken sub. There was nothing he could do to help the men trapped below, many of whom were his friends. Still living when their sub reached the bottom, the men slowly died when their air ran out.

Innovation Against Naval Bureaucracy

A diving bell rests on the deck of the USS Falcon as the effort to raise the USS Squalus gets underway.

A diving bell rests on the deck of the USS Falcon as the effort to raise the USS Squalus gets underway.

The feeling of helplessness at the loss sparked an idea. He began to think about how such a tragedy could be averted. He came up with the idea of a diving bell that could be guided down to the deck of a sunken sub. If flat plates could be welded as rings around the fore and aft hatches of all submarines in advance, the descending bell, or rescue chamber, could form a seal with the plate, the hatch could be opened, and survivors brought safely to the surface.

When he had fleshed out his ideas, he presented them to his base commander, Captain Ernest J. King, who later served as chief of naval operations during World War II. King endorsed the idea and sent it on to the Navy Bureau of Construction and Repair for evaluation. It was Momsen’s first experience with a hidebound naval bureaucracy. He heard nothing for a year. He thought his idea had been rejected out of hand as unworkable.

Toward the end of 1926, Momsen was due for a transfer to shore duty. To his surprise he was assigned to the Bureau of Construction and Repair to the very desk where he had sent his rescue chamber idea. On his first day of duty he rummaged through the “in” basket on his desk. There at the bottom, untouched from the day it had been received a year earlier, was his submission. He was furious.

His rage gave way to renewed determination. He began to push for the evaluation of his idea and was met with disdain and derision. It was impudent of him to be so pushy about an idea, his own idea at that. His design was summarily rejected.

The Momsen Lung

Then fate intervened. Shortly after his proposal was turned down, another submarine was inadvertently sunk. The S-4 lay on the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean near Cape Cod, 110 feet down. Her crew was still alive as their ship lay there. They were able to tap out messages to the surface as they slowly consumed all of the breathable air and one by one died in their watery tomb.

There was outrage from Congress and the public alike. Something had to be done to save the crews of submarines. In the meantime, Momsen had another idea, which he would pursue without going through official channels. He wanted to avoid bureaucratic interference. It was a simple idea that did not require official evaluation or approval for construction of a prototype.

Seaman A.L. Rosenkotter aboard the submarine V-5, later named USS Narwhal, demonstrates the use of the Momsen Lung and the after escape hatch aboard the sub in July 1930.

With a group of volunteers, he began work on a personal breathing bag that a man could strap to his chest and use to ascend from a sunken sub. The device would contain breathable air that on the surface could be used as a flotation device. The inflatable bladder soon earned the nickname, the Momsen Lung.

Enlisting a civilian engineer, Momsen began work on a prototype. The finished product, made of discarded inner tube, looked for all the world like a hot water bottle. Tests were begun in diving tanks with volunteer divers. Momsen always dove first at each new depth. By late 1928, he decided to demonstrate his lung. He chose a spot in Chesapeake Bay that was 110 feet deep, the same depth that the S-4 had sunk, and was lowered to the bottom in a modified bell. He rose to the surface by breathing the air in his Momsen Lung and proved the validity of his design.

All of this work had been done on a shoestring and outside of official Navy channels. The brass learned of Momsen’s success the same way that the rest of the world did, in the newspapers. Embarrassed by his success and yet anxious for it as well, the admirals now gave their blessing to his research on the lung and the rescue chamber.

Momsen next demonstrated that he could ascend from 200 feet down using the lung. The Momsen Lungs became standard equipment on submarines, and all personnel had to be qualified in their use before becoming submariners.

The Rescue Bell Sees Action

Momsen then turned his attention to the rescue bell. Five feet wide and seven feet tall, the bell was designed to winch its way down to a stricken sub along a line that a deep sea diver had attached to the hatch of the sub. The chamber formed a watertight seal against the flat plates that were welded around the hatches of all new and existing submarines.

Momsen was continually testing and improving the design of his inventions with a small crew of dedicated deep-sea divers. While in the midst of testing, with a diver in the tank on May 23, 1939, he got a phone call. The newest submarine in the fleet, the USS Squalus, was missing and presumed lost at sea. The Navy turned to Swede Momsen as the only man capable of rescuing survivors at the bottom of the ocean.

Following the tragic loss of the submarine USS Squalus, U.S. Navy deep sea divers don suits during rescue and salvage operations.

Following the tragic loss of the submarine USS Squalus, U.S. Navy deep sea divers don suits during rescue and salvage operations.

The Squalus had been in the midst of a shakedown cruise when her captain ordered a dive. When a ventilation valve failed to close, the Squalus rapidly filled with water and sank to a depth of 240 feet off Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Thirty-three members of her crew of 59 were able to close themselves into the control room and forward torpedo room but could not raise their ship. The captain considered it too great a risk to allow his wet and shivering crew to use the Momsen Lung in the frigid waters.

Momsen and his deep-sea diving team were rushed to the scene. A buoy from the stricken sub bobbed on the surface marking its location, but an accident snapped the cable. Communication with the sub was lost. Worse, so was its location. One of Momsen’s divers located the sub on the bottom and attached a cable to the forward hatch. The rescue chamber slowly winched down with two of his crewmen to effect the rescue.

Meanwhile, aboard the Squalus the surviving crewmen shivered against the wet and cold of their undersea prison. They had been down for over 24 hours by the time the bell came to rest on the forward hatch. The rescue chamber’s crew brought sandwiches, coffee, and blankets for the crew who would not be able to make the first ascent. The most exhausted and weakest men went first. When they reached the surface they were taken aboard Momsen’s rescue ship, the Falcon. The chamber descended again to fetch more crew members. The captain of the Squalus was the last to leave.

Resuscitating the Squalus

The rescue of the crew of the Squalus was a worldwide public relations windfall for the Navy, and Momsen was a hero. His success was punctuated by the fact that other nations were losing submarines around the same time and had no way to rescue their crews. For “the Swede” there was no time to celebrate. The next task for his intrepid crew of deep-sea divers was to raise the Squalus from its watery grave.

It was the deepest salvage job ever attempted at that time, and it too was successful. The Squalus was brought back to port, refurbished, and recommissioned as the USS Sailfish. She would fight and survive the upcoming war with 12 missions to her credit.

The USS Falcon and the submarine USS Sculpin take up position during the effort to raise the sunken Squalus from the ocean floor.

The USS Falcon and the submarine USS Sculpin take up position during the effort to raise the sunken Squalus from the ocean floor.

Swede Momsen continued his work on deep-sea diving and rescue techniques. He experimented with a breathable mixture of oxygen and helium to give divers a longer effective work time in the deep while continuing to perfect the rescue chamber and the lung.

He was stationed at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, as an operations officer when he had an early morning call. A destroyer, the USS Ward, reported sinking an unidentified submarine. Without consulting his superiors as protocol demanded, Momsen dispatched another destroyer, the Monahan, to investigate. The Monahan reported excitedly that she had rammed another unidentified submarine. But by that time all hell had broken loose as Japanese planes launched their dastardly attack. The Monahan was the only American warship ordered into action before the air raid began. From his office, Momsen watched helplessly as the battleship USS Arizona blew up.

Revolutionizing the Silent Service

Crewmen aboard the stricken submarine USS Tang put on Momsen Lungs as they attempt to reach the surface, 180 feet above, in October 1944. Only eight members of the Tang’s crew survived.

As the war progressed, Momsen was given command of a submarine squadron based in Hawaii. It was in this assignment that he risked his life while swimming over the live torpedo.

Following a stint at a desk job in Washington, D.C., Momsen returned to Hawaii and his beloved submarines. The Germans had successfully used wolfpack tactics in the Atlantic, but American submarines acted alone. As more subs came down the ways, it was feasible to start thinking about using them to hunt together.

Momsen gave himself the assignment of developing tactics unique to the Pacific War. In the Atlantic, the Allies were able to put together large convoys from a growing number of new ships. The Japanese suffered from a dwindling amount of shipping. Their convoys rarely amounted to more than a dozen or so freighters and tankers.

Momsen reasoned that for such a small target only three submarines would be necessary. Two would attack on either flank of a convoy, and one would trail behind, finishing off damaged ships. In October 1944, he got to put his theory to the test when he led the first American wolfpack against Japanese shipping. The three submarines under his command sank five ships and damaged eight others on their first patrol. The new strategy became commonplace for the rest of the war. This time Momsen was awarded the Navy Cross. With reliable torpedoes and improved tactics, the Silent Service soon swept Japanese shipping from the sea.

Silk Bags: The Static Danger

As a reward, Swede Momsen was given a plum assignment, command of his own battleship, the USS South Dakota. Under his command the mighty battleship supported operations on Iwo Jima and Okinawa. One day while the ship was taking on ammunition there was a series of explosions in the forward turrets as the forward magazines ignited, killing several sailors and threatening to destroy the ship. Timely flooding of the remaining magazines prevented the South Dakota from blowing up.

At the time, powder was stored in silk bags and housed in steel drums. Momsen concluded that friction between the steel casing and the silk bags caused a spark of static electricity, which ignited the disaster. His old nemesis, the Bureau of Ordnance, refused to believe it. He had burned them over the torpedo warhead incident, and he was not their favorite officer. But Momsen had enough clout to conduct his own tests on the matter. When simulated handling of powder proved that the rubbing of silk against steel could cause a spark, the Navy ceased using silk for the storage of powder.

Momsen After the War: Returning to his Submarines

After the war, Momsen was reassigned to his first love, submarines. He wanted to come up with a design for a submarine that would optimize speed. Yet he knew that if he went through official channels to design such a boat he would be constantly scrutinized, second guessed, and discouraged. So, he proposed to head a design team that would develop a submarine target, something for surface ships to shoot at. The ploy worked, and the Navy left him alone.

Meanwhile, he instructed his designers to sacrifice every consideration for the sake of underwater speed. “When in doubt, think speed,” he told them. The result of his clandestine project was the bullet-shaped hull of his prototype, the USS Albacore, in 1953. She could reach underwater speeds of 30 knots in short bursts and turn on a dime. The hunter-killer surface ships that went after her were helpless against her speed and maneuverability. When Swede Momsen’s design was married to nuclear power, the submarine achieved an exalted place in the Navy’s offensive capability.

When Vice Admiral Momsen retired from the Navy, he was considered by many, not including those whose toes he had stepped on, to be the nation’s foremost submariner. He died of cancer in 1967 at the age of 70, and an Arleigh Burke-class guided missile destroyer, USS Momsen, is named in his honor.

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From Suffrage To Sisterhood: What Is Feminism And What Does It Mean?

From Dictionary.com: https://www.dictionary.com/e/womens-movement-what-does-feminism-actually-mean/

I love starting with the definitions of the terms you’re arguing about.

“In 1851, [Sojourner} Truth gave an impassioned speech at the Women’s Convention in Ohio, arguing against the then-popular argument that women’s suffrage would de-feminize women, explaining that slavery exposed her to the same backbreaking labor and mistreatment as any of the male slaves.”

March 1, 2024

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Held on March 8, International Women’s Day celebrates the progress women have made over the last century, and the inspiring women who helped make that progress happen. From the suffragist movement of the 1800s to the 2017 Women’s March in Washington, women have used the power of language and oration to inspire countless people.

Early inspiration: the Enlightenment

Early feminism was heavily influenced by the Enlightenment in Europe during the late 1700s. The movement focused on reason and equality for all, and it ultimately inspired the American and French Revolutions. Think of the Declaration of Independence: “We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

Of course, that whole all men are created equal thing didn’t apply to women or people of color at the time. That was a problem and a great source of tension for early feminism.

In the UK, Mary Wollstonecraft, an early feminist, published A Vindication of the Rights of Women in 1792, promoting the then-radical idea that women be educated on the same level as their male peers.

The word feminism itself was first coined in 1837 by French philosopher Charles Fourier (as féminisme). It originally referred to “feminine qualities or character,” but that sense isn’t used anymore. Toward the end of the century, the word came to refer to equal rights for women and became inextricably linked to the suffragist movement.

Women’s suffrage: men and women are created equal

The Seneca Falls Convention in July 1848 marked the official beginning of the American Women’s Suffrage movement and, arguably, of American feminism in the United States. Around 300 women and men came together from across the country to discuss the status of women in the United States. Together, they wrote the Declaration of Sentiments, which opened with these words:

We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men and women are created equal; that they are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Sound familiar? By purposefully mirroring the language of the Declaration of Independence, the writers compared the injustice of women’s status with the injustice faced by the American colonies in 1776. The document protested laws that denied women access to property rights, labor rights, or education, and it famously called for women to be given the right to vote (i.e., suffrage).

Many women’s suffrage leaders were also abolitionists, including Frederick Douglass and Sojourner Truth. In 1851, Truth gave an impassioned speech at the Women’s Convention in Ohio, arguing against the then-popular argument that women’s suffrage would de-feminize women, explaining that slavery exposed her to the same backbreaking labor and mistreatment as any of the male slaves.

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The Nineteenth Amendment: the spirit of protest

The Woman Suffrage Parade of 1913 was the first and most significant march for the cause. Occurring the day before President Woodrow Wilson’s inauguration, which women were barred from attending, the parade saw thousands of suffragettes marching down Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, DC.

This early spirit of protest continued in the form of the Silent Sentinels, who picketed silently in front of the White House six days a week between 1917–1919. The constant presence of these women was a daily reminder to President Wilson that America’s women had their eye on him. The protesters even used Wilson’s own quotes against him: “We shall fight for the things which we have always carried nearest our hearts—for democracy, for the right of those who submit to authority to have a voice in their own governments.”

In 1872, Susan B. Anthony was arrested for trying to vote. During her trial, she argued that as a citizen of the United States, she had a constitutionally protected right to vote. The court ruled that citizenship didn’t equal voting rights. Almost 50 years later, in 1920, the Nineteenth Amendment was passed, proclaiming, “The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex.” Notably, 2020 marked the 100th anniversary of the Nineteenth Amendment.

Women’s liberation movement: the second wave of feminism

Tracing a history of feminism leads us to what is known as the second wave of feminism—or the Women’s Movement or Women’s Liberation—that stretched from the early 1960s–1980s. (In this sense, liberation is “the act or fact of gaining equal rights or full social or economic opportunities for a particular group.”) When the Kinsey Reports, the first academic studies of human sexuality, were published in 1948 and 1953, the taboos surrounding sex and sexuality–taboos felt largely by women–began to fade. And then, in 1963, Betty Friedan published her national bestseller, The Feminine Mystique.

In 1961, President Kennedy’s Presidential Commission on the Status of Women found that American women had far fewer rights or economic opportunities than men. They were paid less for the same jobs, experienced more (unpunished) harassment, and they could be fired or denied a job for becoming pregnant. Domestic violence was an unaddressed issue at home, and it was very hard to divorce, especially if there were children in the picture. All of that is just scratching the surface.

Around this time, Women’s Liberation activists used language to further their social goals. They began using the ambiguous Ms., rather than Miss or Mrs., to hide their marital status (the way Mr. already did for men). This was also the time when the terms sexism and sexual harassment were coined, highlighting the similarities between discrimination against women and racism.

A lot of the legislation of these decades focused on the aspect of equality the Equal Pay Act, the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, the Equal Credit Opportunity, etc. These all helped to promote the joint interests of women and people of color in the struggle for equal rights. (The Women’s Strike for Equality in 1970 was another reflection of this struggle.)

Language is empowering, especially when you’re creating the words for your empowerment. Check out these important terms coined by women.

Third-wave feminism and intersectionality

Today, we live in the era of third-wave feminism. This generation is much more focused on the intersections of gender, race, sexuality, and income inequality. Rising in the 1990s with the Riot Grrrl movement and Anita Hill’s very public sexual harassment case against incoming Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas, this era continues the work of Women’s Liberation while also breaking new ground for future generations.

No movement is without its internal struggles, however. The Women’s Liberation Movement represented numerous different groups with different priorities; as a result, third-wave feminism has sectioned off somewhat to reflect these differing priorities and politics. Although those lines can blur, this intersectionality (“the theory that the overlap of various social identities, as race, gender, sexuality, and class, contributes to the specific type of systemic oppression and discrimination experienced by an individual”) is becoming a prominent feature of today’s feminism.

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Understanding Black History: 10 Terms That Illuminate The Black Experience In The US

More from Dictionary.com on the beauty and utility of language

Migration has been a pattern of human societies for millennia. Even forced migration is nothing new. The language of people struggling to understand their new circumstances, their new geography, their sudden juxtaposition with people from different cultures is the story of people. We all came from Africa 10s of thousands of years ago, so essentially, we’re all migrants.

Black history is American history, but it’s also bigger than that. The reach and influence of Black culture is global. Black history is too vast to be covered or contained in a single month, or a single article.

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Black History Month is nevertheless a reminder to engage in a year-round, lifelong celebration and exploration of Black history and its many facets.

It’s an opportunity to deepen our understanding of the events introduced in history class, and to explore the countless ones that were not—including those that have been erased, obscured, or ignored because of anti-Black racism and the teaching of history in a way that has been historically dominated by a focus on white culture.

Content warning: This article includes some detailed content on chattel slavery, lynching, and other forms of anti-Black violence.

🔑 Key purpose

In this article, we will enter into Black history through words. Using 10 key terms as focal points, we’ll explore some of the significant events, figures, movements, places, and other aspects of Black history. Along the way, we’ll note terms that are newly emerging, newly entering mainstream awareness, or newly relevant to a history that is continuously unfolding. Some of these terms include:

Diaspora

Black history is US history, but Black history and culture begin and are rooted in Africa. Black people have lived in Africa for millennia, establishing a staggeringly diverse range of thriving cultures and civilizations. That history stretches back far before colonization by white Europeans.

A key term that highlights the ancestral origins of Black people who live outside of Africa is Diaspora (or African Diaspora). In this context, the term collectively refers to the descendants of Africans who were forced from their traditional homeland during the period of trans-Atlantic chattel slavery. As a historical event, the centuries-long enslavement and murder of millions of Africans by white Europeans, North Americans, and others is often referred to as the trans-Atlantic slave trade, but many scholars consider this term inappropriate and inadequate in its encapsulation of the atrocities it entails. Increasingly, the event—and its lasting impacts—are referred to as the Maafa, which comes from a Swahili word for “great disaster” or “great tragedy” and serves a function very similar to the word Holocaust (which has become the established term to concisely refer to the systematic mass murder of Jews by the Nazis).

For many, identification as a member of the Diaspora plays a crucial role in personal identity and culture—one shaped in many ways by the culture that enslaved Africans brought with them to the places they were forced to labor in the Americas.

In the territory that became the United States, the institution of slavery was centered in the Southern region and was primarily conducted through the route known as the Middle Passage.

Many scholars date the arrival of the first enslaved Africans to the year 1619. Use of the date as a historical landmark has been popularized by the 1619 Project, a journalistic, historical, and educational initiative of The New York Times that was created by journalist and scholar Nikole Hannah-Jones. (It was published in 2019 to coincide with the 400th anniversary of this date.)

The 1619 Project and related works have been described as a way of reframing the discussion of US history to emphasize how the institution of slavery influenced the nation’s founding and how its legacy has continued to impact countless aspects of modern American society.

As awareness of this date and its historical significance has increased, so has its use as shorthand for the beginning of slavery in America. The next term we’ll discuss is now commonly used as a way to refer to—and celebrate—the end of slavery in the US.

Juneteenth

On January 1, 1863, President Abraham Lincoln signed an executive order known as the Emancipation Proclamation. The proclamation, issued two years after the start of the Civil War, is often hailed as having ended slavery in the US, but its effect and intent was more narrow: it specifically freed the people enslaved in the territories still in rebellion against the Union. In Union border states and in Confederate territories captured by Union forces, slavery remained in place. Of course, it also remained in place in Confederate states, where the proclamation was rejected and ignored until it was able to be enforced by Union forces.

For that reason, it took much longer for many Black enslaved communities to learn of their freedom. Some of the last enslaved people in the US to be informed that slavery had been abolished were those who received the news in Texas on June 19, 1865. The anniversary of this date is now celebrated as Juneteenth (a blend of June nineteenth).

Along with commemorating the specific event, Juneteenth is also often observed as a time to commemorate the end of chattel slavery in the US. While Juneteenth has been long observed by African Americans, widespread observance and recognition of the day has grown in recent years. In 2021, Juneteenth was adopted as a US federal holiday, officially called Juneteenth National Independence Day (a name that brings to mind the belief among some that Juneteenth represents a more appropriate and inclusive celebration of true American independence than the one celebrated on July 4).

Why is February Black History Month? Learn more about the history behind Black History Month.

The full, legal abolition of slavery across the US came with the 13th Amendment, which was ratified on December 6, 1865, after the Civil War ended.

But the end of slavery did not end widespread anti-Black racism and oppression. Since the post-Civil War period known as Reconstruction, racist laws and policies have taken many forms, both official and unofficial, and have been known by many names.

Jim Crow

After the Civil War, not only did the Black Americans who had been enslaved not receive any reparations, their new freedom was suppressed in a number of ways, including violence and a systematic denial of rights that was often implemented on an institutional level.

In the years immediately following the war’s end, the ex-Confederate states passed laws known as Black Codes to suppress Black Americans’ rights, including limits on freedom of movement intended to ensure that former enslavers continued to have access to cheap labor.

In 1890, the Louisiana General Assembly passed a law requiring that Black and white citizens use separate cars when traveling on a train, which was upheld by the Supreme Court in 1896 in Plessy vs. Ferguson, notorious for its “separate but equal” ruling.

This decision opened the doors to a wave of restrictive laws all across the South designed to deny the rights of Black people in numerous ways—including, crucially, their ability to vote. Such laws came to be known as Jim Crow laws. (The term Jim Crow comes from the name of a minstrel show character based on a racist caricature of a Black enslaved person.)

In tandem with racist laws, white supremacy was also upheld throughout the Jim Crow era with violence. Particularly widespread was the form of murder known as lynching, often carried out by white mobs and with the cooperation of law enforcement. It’s estimated that nearly 6,500 Black people were lynched between 1865 and 1950.

The Jim Crow system of legalized segregation and discrimination didn’t officially end until the Civil Rights Act of 1964, but its legacy persists alongside other forms of injustice.

Discussion of many of these forms of injustice—and the terms for them—continues to be relevant today.

Legislation has been introduced to make lynching a federal crime, and there is a continued focus on well-known cases, including the murder of Emmet Till, whose case helped to spur the Civil Rights Movement. The term lynching has been applied to recent cases of racist violence, including the 2020 murder of Ahmaud Arbery.

The term Jim Crow is now sometimes used in terms like the new Jim Crow and Jim Crow 2.0 to refer to the persistence of systemic anti-Black discrimination, particularly in the contexts of the suppression of voting rights and the mass and disproportionate incarceration of Black men in the US.

Looking back to the past, it was in part the atmosphere of Jim Crow in the 20th century that led millions of Black people to migrate to places where they believed their opportunities would be better.

The Great Migration

Beginning in the early 1900s and particularly around the time of each World War, Black Americans left the South in massive numbers to relocate to cities and other areas in the North, West, and Midwest. Approximately six million migrated from roughly 1910 to 1970—a population shift that shaped the longstanding demographics of many areas of the US.

During this time, many of the Black people who worked as sharecroppers and in other agricultural jobs in the rural South left to pursue industrial work in Northern cities, motivated by the possibility of a better life. In many cases, there were better wages and educational opportunities.

But while the North did not have the widespread Jim Crow laws of the South, Black people were nonetheless targeted by Northern whites with racist policies and discrimination, such as redlining and de facto segregation. Redlining is a discriminatory practice by which institutions like banks and insurance companies refuse or limit loans, mortgages, or insurance within specific geographic areas, especially certain urban neighborhoods. This practice and similar ones are often cited as a factor in the persistent wealth gap and the lack of generational wealth among many Black families. (The suppression of rights in such ways—those not explicitly encoded in law but that are nonetheless allowed by the law—is one of the realities implied by terms like systemic racism and structural racism.)

More recently, the term Great Migration has been used in discussions of similar relocation trends and demographic shifts involving Black Americans moving from Northern and Western states to Southern states, especially Southern cities. This movement has been called the new Great Migration in some reports about it.

While many Black people remained in the South and moved to cities there, the Great Migration resulted in significant Black population increases in many Northern cities and the formation of Black communities there. These communities are often considered to be the basis of Black urban culture and the growth of Black arts movements.

The Harlem Renaissance

The Harlem section of New York City is perhaps the most well-known of the Black communities formed within American cities during the 20th century. Beginning around the 1920s and continuing into the ’30s, Harlem became the center of a renewal and flourishing of Black literary, musical, and artistic culture.

Many of the writers associated with the movement are among the most recognized  of all Black writers, including Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston. Other notable literary figures include Arna Bontemps, James Weldon Johnson, Jean Toomer, and Dorothy West.

The artists of the movement shared in common a celebration of Black traditions and ways of life and a centering of the Black voice in explorations of the many aspects of the Black experience. But their works, perspectives, and disciplines were incredibly diverse.

Musical luminaries associated with or whose careers coincided with the Harlem Renaissance include Duke Ellington, Bessie Smith, and Ma Rainey. The widespread cultural influence of the movement’s musical elements can be seen in the name often applied to the 1920s: the Jazz Age.

The movement also included visual artists, like photographer James Van Der Zee and graphic artist Aaron Douglas. It also included performers, such as actors Paul Robeson and Josephine Baker—who was not based in Harlem but was still associated with the widespread reach of the movement.

The era was marked by the intersection of the arts and the growing movement for Civil Rights, including the association of many artists with organizations like the NAACP and the Urban League.

Thinkers of the time expanded on and transcended the work of predecessors like Booker T. Washington and W. E. B. DuBois, focusing on the distinct identity of Black people in the US.

The movement had major, long-lasting influences on Black art and thought. These influences can be traced to later artists and writers, notably the generation of James Baldwin, Toni Morrison, and Maya Angelou—and many since, including those working today.

The Harlem Renaissance wasn’t the only Black artistic movement, nor was it the only center of Black innovation.

Black Wall Street

Black Wall Street is the name that was given to the Black residential neighborhood and business district of Greenwood, in downtown Tulsa, Oklahoma. In the late 1800s and early 1900s, the oil in the area generated a huge amount of wealth, and some Indigenous and Black landowners were able to share in the boom. Greenwood became one of the wealthiest Black communities in the US. The community had its own extensive infrastructure and was able to build and thrive to a level that other Black communities were often prevented from reaching.

In 1921, a confrontation erupted between white and Black Tulsa residents after the arrest of a Black man on dubious charges. After a white mob looted and set fire to Greenwood businesses, the governor declared martial law. The National Guard arrived and pursued the mass arrest of Greenwood’s entire Black community, detaining thousands of people for several days. During that time, white mobs—including some individuals deputized by Tulsa police—killed as many as 300 Black people and burned thousands of homes and businesses, utterly destroying the Greenwood district.

The anti-Black persecution continued in the aftermath: the perpetrators of the destruction were never prosecuted; insurance companies denied claims; and efforts to rebuild were suppressed by the local government.

The term Black Wall Street and the place it refers to have long been known to Black scholars but have only recently entered more mainstream awareness—even among many Tulsans and Oklahomans. The event that became known as the Tulsa Massacre wasn’t made part of the curriculum in most Oklahoma schools until the 2000s. This is just one example of how Black scholarship and journalism have documented and revealed both Black triumphs and tragedies that have been whitewashed or excluded altogether from the dominant narrative of US history.

Civil Rights

We tend to think of Civil Rights as a general term, but it can have a few very specific meanings, including the “rights to personal liberty established by the 13th and 14th Amendments to the US Constitution and certain Congressional acts.”

Perhaps the best way to define Civil Rights in this context is to define them as the goal of what became known as the Civil Rights Movement. The Civil Rights Movement grew out of long-held efforts to gain equal rights for Black Americans, but it is particularly associated with the movement in the 1950s and ’60s to legally establish and protect such rights.

In 1954, the Supreme Court’s decision in Brown vs. Board of Education paved the way for racial integration in schools (a reversal of the earlier “separate but equal” decision in Plessy vs. Ferguson). In 1955, Rosa Parks engaged in her now-famous act of protest, sparking the Montgomery Bus Boycott. The success of the boycott gave momentum to the movement and helped some of its organizers rise to prominence as the movement’s leaders, including Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

One of the defining moments of the Civil Rights Movement came in 1963 when Dr. King delivered his iconic “I Have a Dream” speech to 250,000 people on the National Mall during the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom.

Get inspired by taking a closer look at the artistry and effects of King’s “I Have a Dream” speech.

Continued marches and protests—and violent resistance to them by whites—brought continued attention to the movement and pressure for legislative reform.

The passing of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 outlawed discrimination on the basis of race, color, religion, sex, or national origin in voter registration, employment, and public accommodations. It officially put an end to (legally sanctioned) segregation in schools.

In 1965, protesters marched from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, as part of a voter registration drive and a call for voting rights. Despite violence against the marchers by police and white mobs—including the killing of four activists—the march continued to Montgomery. National outrage over the violence led to additional pressure for legislation, and the Voting Rights Act of 1965 was passed months later. Notably, it eliminated various policies traditionally used to restrict voting by Black people, such as literacy tests.

The next major piece of Civil Rights legislation came three years later in the form of the Civil Rights Act of 1968 (also known as the Fair Housing Act), which was aimed at addressing discriminatory housing policies.

Like the other Civil Rights laws, pressure to pass the Fair Housing Act increased after a tragedy—this time, the assassination of Dr. King on April 4, 1968. It was yet another brutal act of violence against a Civil Rights leader: Malcolm X was assassinated in 1965.

These tragedies were a reminder that despite significant victories in the form of Civil Rights legislation, the fight for Civil Rights was not over. Even today, such legislation (and its shortcomings) is often discussed in the context of calls for new rights protections for Black people—and all Americans—including voting and housing rights.

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Black Power

The movement of nonviolent resistance embodied by Dr. King—and for which he won a Nobel Peace Prize in 1964—is credited in part with achieving legislative victories in the 1960s. But the continued racist violence and systemic oppression not addressed by such legislation inspired greater participation in what became known as the Black Power movement, whose members were most active in the 1960s and 1970s.

Growing out of and in parallel with the Civil Rights Movement and inspired by Black leaders like Malcolm X, the Black Power movement was based on a focus on the political and economic power of Black Americans and the independent development of political and social institutions. The movement and its symbolism were intended to embrace Black pride and to counter white supremacy.

Early leaders associated with the movement included Huey Newton and Bobby Seale, who founded the Black Panther Party, and Kwame Ture (formerly known as Stokely Carmichael), the head of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC).

In Chicago, Black Panther leader Fred Hampton formed a coalition of marginalized groups with a focus on working to combat poverty and rights abuses by police, among other things.

Members of the movement were often more radical in their views and strategies, including in terms of armed resistance and anticapitalism. Such views often brought increased surveillance and intimidation from law enforcement. Beginning in the ’60s, the FBI targeted Black Panther leaders for arrest and assassination, and is widely believed to have helped coordinate the murder of Fred Hampton by police.

Today, the legacy of the Black Power movement continues in many ways, including with a sustained focus on the transparency surrounding cases of police violence against Black Americans.

Black Lives Matter

In February 2012, George Zimmerman was acquitted in the shooting death of Black teenager Trayvon Martin. In the aftermath, Black organizers Alicia Garza, Patrisse Cullors, and Opal Tometi created the hashtag #BlackLivesMatter to mobilize against racist violence and to spotlight the failure of the justice system to successfully prosecute such cases.

As greater attention was focused on police brutality and the shootings of Black people by police, such cases continued to spark outrage, bringing greater scrutiny and, in turn, greater momentum for the national and then global movement that Black Lives Matter became.

In 2020, protests spread worldwide in response to the killing of George Floyd, a Black man, by white police officer Derek Chauvin, who was later convicted of Floyd’s murder after a highly publicized trial.

All of these events and movements have impacted the language used in the context of antiracism and social justice (both of which are terms that have become more prominent in recent years).

Notably, the names of the victims of police violence and mistreatment—George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Sandra Bland, Tamir Rice, and too many others—have become a focal point in the efforts to secure justice for them, their families, and for Black communities and all People of Color. This focus is reflected in slogans like Say their names.

Similarly, there has been a renewed call among victims’ advocates to refer to police brutality trials with the name of the defendant, rather than the name of the victims (which can suggest that they are the ones on trial). This is related to the fact that in many cases such victims are demonized as an attempt to justify their killing.

Additionally, as a result of the movement for racial justice and the attention it has brought to many different issues, there is now greater awareness of terms for topics that Black scholars and activists have been discussing for decades.

The evolution of this vocabulary—and the increasing awareness and use of it—is reflected in the addition of many such terms to this dictionary, including many new additions in 2020 and 2021 (with more being added as they emerge and grow in use).

These include terms like systemic racism, white privilege, implicit bias, microaggression, race norming, and intersectionality, which was coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw, the prominent Black scholar who is also credited with naming Critical Race Theory.

Critical Race Theory (often abbreviated CRT) is an academic theory used to analyze systems through a lens of race and racism and their history in the US and the world. Though it is largely applied in legal research and discussed at the university level, it has become a flashpoint in the context of elementary and high school curricula. In particular, it has been attacked by those who disagree with the idea that many institutions are built on and enforce systemic racism. Proponents, on the other hand, accuse the theory’s critics of frequently misrepresenting it, the ideas behind it, and the ways in which it is taught or used as the basis for programs or policies.

Read more about Critical Race Theory and its origins.

The focus on the impact of language in social justice contexts has also led to a shift in terms related to slavery, particularly the use of the adjective enslaved in terms like enslaved people in replacement of the word slave, which can result in a desensitization to the horrors of slavery by implying that status as an enslaved person is somehow inherent to a person’s nature. There are many related shifts, such as the avoidance of words like master and owner, including in contexts other than slavery.

Even more fundamental than many of these changes is the evolution of the terminology used to refer to Black people by themselves and others.

Black, with a capital “B”

In recent years, calls to capitalize the word Black, when it refers to Black people, have been adopted by many publications and style guides, including this dictionary. This capitalization is intended to reflect and respect the distinct culture and identity that the word represents. It is this culture and identity that Black History Month celebrates.

Black history is sometimes presented in the form of a timeline of Black excellence and “Black firsts”—individuals breaking barriers in various fields: George Washington Carver in agriculture (and peanuts!); Jackie Robinson in baseball; Gwendolyn Brooks in literature (as the first Black winner of the Pulitzer Prize); Thurgood Marshall on the Supreme Court; Mae Jemison in space; Barack Obama and Kamala Harris in the White House; Misty Copeland in ballet; Simone Biles in so many ways. The list is long and growing as we continue to witness barriers being broken.

It is important to acknowledge and celebrate such firsts—especially as examples for the next generation of firsts. But it is also important to acknowledge that historical “Black firsts” have also come in the form of entire art forms, scientific breakthroughs, and other contributions to society that transcend individuals.

Notably, the Black origins of and influences on many aspects of art and pop culture cannot be overstated. This is especially the case when it comes to several quintessential forms of American music that have become some of the greatest US cultural exports: blues, jazz, rock, soul, Motown, funk, and hip-hop have all had global cultural influences.

Hip-hop in particular has had worldwide influences not only on music but also fashion—and language. Black slang (including the slang rooted in popular musical genres) is constantly being adopted (and, in many cases, appropriated) by mainstream culture.

The influence of Black culture also applies to food: many of the now globally popular staples of American cuisine originated in and have been influenced by African American dishes. In addition, Black cinema has entered a new era of expression and popularity, including recent milestones across multiple genres and exploring different facets of the Black experience.

The Black experience—and Black history—intersects in many ways with the history of other marginalized communities, including solidarity with Indigenous Peoples and other People of Color, as well as the prominence of Black figures in movements for LGBTQ+ rights, to name just a few examples.

Despite so many Black firsts and so much Black excellence, Black history is often depicted as synonymous with struggle, particularly due to the history and prevalence of anti-Black racism—a reality that should not be minimized. But as we explore Black history during Black History Month and beyond, it is also important to recognize that Black history is often personal.

Positivity-focused terms like Black joy, Black excellence, and Black girl magic (all of which are commonly used as hashtags) celebrate moments of joy and greatness in everyday Black life. They can also serve as a form of resistance—and as a way to make space for joy apart from the pervasive depictions of Black trauma and tragedy in media and discourse.

Such terms are reminders that Black history begins in the past but it is still unfolding daily. Black history is happening now. We are living in it.

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FOR THE LOVE OF SENTENCES

Frank Bruni Reflections on the mess (and magic) of politics and life. Sign up for Frank Bruni’s newsletter, for Times subscribers only. https://www.nytimes.com/column/frank-bruni?campaign_id=93&emc=ed

Frank Bruni’s addendum to his column, For the Love of Sentences, is worth the price of a subscription to NYT. I can only dream that someday you’ll see one of my sentences here.

Jennifer Lopez in “This Is Me … Now: A Love Story” Prime, via Associated Press

Jennifer Lopez released an ego-smooching tandem of new movie and new music titled “This Is Me … Now,” and Lopezologists were ready.

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Wesley Morris in The Times: “When Beyoncé explored love-pain, she called her project ‘Lemonade.’ When Lopez does it, heartache becomes cardio, lots of sweating and suffering and boxing and panting and heaving. You admire the shape of her body as much as you mourn her emotional discontent. It’s ‘Lululemonade.’” (Thanks to Josh Futterman, Manhattan, and Allen Tarlow, West Hollywood, Calif., among others, for nominating this.)

Anne Branigin in The Washington Post: “It will certainly take home the trophy for The Most J-Lo Thing J-Lo Has Ever Done. In it, she’s the magnetic center of the universe: She sings, she dances, she channels all of her rom-com superpowers — she even raps. It is her Magnum Lopez.” (Virginia Matish, Chesapeake, Va.)

Wesley also weighed in recently on a very different kind of performer in a very different kind of movie, appraising Paul Giamatti’s Oscar-nominated performance in “The Holdovers” as a profoundly — but not hopelessly — embittered prep school teacher: “You can measure the emotional magnitude of his righteousness by the creases, lines and squiggles that striate Giamatti’s forehead. What he’s after is richer than plain fury. Yes, he can give you Vesuvius. But here, in the most deeply inhabited, most sharply etched use to which that brow has yet been put, Giamatti has also located Lake Placid and charts a course toward it.” (Bonnie Oberman, Chicago, and Doug Sterner, Fort Lauderdale, Fla., among others)

Sticking with The Times, John McWhorter had some translingual fun with the first person plural: “In the Kwaio language of the Solomon Islands, the word for ‘we’ differs depending on whether you mean yourself and the person you’re talking to or yourself and someone else. There are also different words for ‘we’ if you are talking about yourself and three people including whom you are talking to or three people not including whom you are talking to or more than three people. Kwaio can leave an English speaker with we-ness envy.” (Sheldon Seidenfeld, Teaneck, N.J., and Keith Friedlander, Lloyd Harbor, N.Y., among many others)

Dwight Garner marveled at the writer Carson McCullers’s daily pharmaceutical intake as described in a new biography of her: “The lists of pills fill entire paragraphs. She must have rattled when she walked.” (Sally Hinson, Greer, S.C., and John Jacoby, Cambridge, Mass.)

And in a letter to the editor, Larry Stein of Glendale, Calif., observed: “President Biden would be an awful contestant on ‘Jeopardy!’ Instant recall and exact phrasing are not his strengths. But presidents do not play Foreign Policy for $200. They play it for real.” (Tim McFadden, Encinitas, Calif.)

To return to The Washington Post, Robin Givhan checked in on Senator Tim Scott’s stumping for Trump and saw “someone who has stared directly into the blinding sunlight of ambition and is trying to convince folks that he can still see clearly and accurately.” “Truth,” she continued, “floats around him like afterimages, those dark spots that bob in and out of focus.” (Betsy Snider, Acworth, N.H., and Robert Meadow, Los Angeles, among others)

In USA Today, Rex Huppke reviewed the shimmering gold sneakers that Trump recently branded and brandished: “They’re the go-to athletic shoe for people fleeing responsibility.” (Jon Rasmussen, Honolulu)

In Jacobin, Alissa Quart explored the disappearance or shrinking of many publications: “Pitchfork, long my go-to for tart and encyclopedic endorsements or takedowns of music, has been folded, in a much-reduced form, into GQ — two media entities that, if they were people, would have never spoken to each other in high school.” (Jazmyn Strode, Brooklyn, N.Y.)

In JoeBlogs, Joe Posnanski noted the significance of the baseball coach Don Mattingly’s rearing in the Hoosier State: “Don obviously grew up playing basketball; this being Indiana, after all, where both parents have to make consecutive free throws in order to take their baby home from the hospital.” (Perry Sailor, Longmont, Colo.)

In The Spokesman-Review of Spokane, Wash., Ammi Midstokke reacted to the latest compliment from her husband. “I was struck by a realization: Either I am perfect or my husband enjoys the relative peace that reigns when we both pretend I am,” she wrote. (Blake Albretsen, Spokane Valley, Wash.)

And in Bloomberg, Howard Chua-Eoan mulled the cheapening of “influence” as a concept and word: “The influencer culture has, for all practical purposes, blandly redefined influence as a commercial subset of social media. Its purpose is ever more followers and the monetization of those numbers, a frothy kind of circular prosperity. But real influence is made of sterner stuff — soul and sinew and heat and love. That’s what you see in the legacy of a truly influential American, restaurateur David Bouley, who died this week at the age of 70. Much more than a mountain of likes, he’s legend.” (Michael Costa, Bristol, R.I.)

To nominate favorite bits of recent writing from The Times or other publications to be mentioned in “For the Love of Sentences,” please email me here and include your name and place of residence.

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