Deprived of opportunities for advancement in mainstream society, [black ghetto] teenagers elevate their personal style into a philosophy of life. Their exemplars are pimps and gangsters…. Gangs develop to bolster self-identity through psychological control of the streets; hip “threads” and “freaked out” cars also serve as outward signs of inner creativity. Both sexes consider coitus (“doin’ the do”) a natural and desirable part of adolescence; soft drugs, primarily marijuana (“tea”), also offer a temporary alternative to the harsh reality of ghetto existence. But embracing all of these is the vernacular itself – in its grace, flexibility, and strength it is a valuable tool for “gettin’ down,” for “blowin’ fire,” ultimately for staying alive… (Anderson 1981:233-234).
Edith A Folb is a white woman who threw herself into the depths of one of America’s most notorious ghettos for nearly nine years of fieldwork on the language and culture of African-American teenagers.
She left the University of California, Los Angeles in 1964, midway through an increasingly dissatisfying Ph.D. program, to involve herself in a variety of community-based activities in the hopes of determining the future course of her life. After two years of working amongst the predominantly black inhabitants of South Central Los Angeles, Folb returned to school with a better subject of focus for her studies. She had found her calling in the last place most people would think to look; in the heart of the ghetto. “So, in 1967, [she] began the systematic study of black teenage vernacular vocabulary” (Folb 1980:viii).
In 1980, Edith A. Folb’s first book, runnin’ down some lines: the language and culture of black teenagers, was published.
The book is based on her extensive first-hand research on the teens of South Central. She spent over eight years operating within the community, interviewing many teens and conversing less formerly with countless others. Folb feels that these youths are representative of an aspect of American society both disregarded and misunderstood by the white majority. She even goes as far as to refer to the ghetto as a “country” of its own within the boundaries of the United States (Folb 1980:2).
Her goal is to shed some light on the otherwise dark subject of inner city culture. Folb believes that the manner in which the teens of South Central speak may “tell those who would listen what it means to be young and black and live in a ghetto community” (Folb 1980:4).
To open the book, she describes her experiences as a white female participant observer in an area where both white females and either of the words participant or observer are highly uncommon. As the book progresses, she explains how studying the teens’ vocabulary serves as a means of examining their lifestyles. The book has chapters on “name terms in the black community”, street sense and values, “male-female interaction”, drugs in the community, and “the dynamic nature of black teen jargon” (Baugh 1981:475-476).
Although she may lack substantial evidence for some of her conclusions and empirical evidence for some of her generalizations (Scott 1981:189), the book does present the reader with an interesting analysis of the African-American teenagers of South Central Los Angeles. In defining her goal, Folb writes: “It is my hope that this book will begin to acknowledge the significance of lexicon in understanding a groups concerns, values, and expectations” (Folb 1980:4).
Give me a black goddess sister I can’t resist her.
No stringy haired, blonde hair, blue eyed, pale skinned buttermilk complexion. Grafted, recessive, depressive, ironing board backside straight up and straight down. No frills, no thrills, Miss six o’clock, subject to have the itch, mutanoid, caucazoid, white cave bitch… (Ice Cube 1993).
As the words of Dr. Khalid Muhammed from rapper Ice Cube’s 1993 song Cave Bitch indicate, the white woman is not the most sought after or respected individual in South Central Los Angeles.
Ice Cube, or O’Shea Jackson to his friends (Hobson 1997:1), is one of the many rappers in the music industry who have claimed South Central as their stomping ground of old, therefore his feelings may reflect those of the some of the teens involved in Folb’s study. Especially since runnin’ down some lines is a book about “black teenagers between the ages of fifteen and twenty who live primarily in the South Central Los Angeles black community and its immediate environs” (Folb 1980:2); a group likely to be familiar with the likes of Ice Cube. No matter how ignorant one may be of lexicography, Muhammed’s message should be easily deciphered as a negative statement concerning white women. Folb was well aware of the “intruder” label that she would surely sport the moment she stepped on her subjects’ “turf”. She explains her concern as follows: “I was white, I was female, and I was asking personal questions of residents in the community. That description fits any number of white ‘intruders,’ including social workers, parole officers, teachers, or the police” (Folb 1980:9-10).
However, in order to pursue her goal of better understanding black ghetto teens, she was going to have to face the adversity and earn their trust. Fortunately, the work she had done during her time out of school lessened the weight of this task greatly. It was those earlier efforts within the community that got her foot in the door. From there, she simply spoke to anyone who would listen concerning who she was and why she was there. “The success of this honest field strategy is further confirmed by the frank and colloquial nature of the data presented throughout the book” (Baugh 1981:475).
Folb held three hundred interviews; half of which were taped, with the other half being quickly transcribed.
These recorded “voices” serve as the basis for her research and “[tell] a vivid story for those who would listen” (Folb 1980:15).
I’m a cold player, I can’t lie. They call me Playboy $hort, and I told you why. I’m a mack, so get back. I put my tape in the deck in my Cadillac. Makin’ people dance all over the floor.
Lovin’ that rapper named Sir Too $hort. You got my bank, little girl, no time to act silly. I’m dynamite, baby, and my name ain’t Willy (Too $hort 1989).
When it comes to name terms or identity labels, the voices in question transcend the boundaries of those names imposed upon us at birth. Less formal names are often and expression of an individual’s personal characteristics. These name terms or identity markers are used to characterize a person’s perceived behavior, appearance, or relationship to the speaker.
Because they are not permanent labels and because they are intimately tied up with personal perceptions, they tell us a great deal about the attitudes, expectations, and values of those who use them (Folb 1980:18-19).
Such name terms could serve to negatively characterize people in the form of a racial or ethnic slur, or by calling to attention a weakness in their personality. They may also positively characterize acquaintances in terms of friendship, sexuality, or mutual racial identity (Folb 1980:19-20).
Attaching family-related names to those outside one’s immediate or extended family is a sign of camaraderie. Folb sees this practice as a reflection of Roger D. Abrahams’ notion that while the white middle class family teaches their children the beliefs of the nuclear family model of staying off the streets and developing meaningful relationships with a limited number of their peers, the “black mothers teach their children to get out of the home and onto the streets…to develop relationships of a conventional nature with a potentially large number of their peers” (Abrahams 1963:18).
This larger number of peers acts as a super-extended family, watching over the younger children and providing them with a more varied, although typically ethnocentric, social education.
Hence the references to one’s peers as one’s “brothers” and “sisters”. Folb feels that this notion of the widely extended family is the source of strong bonds within black communities wherein members will use the expressions “blood”, “folks”, and “their people” to refer to the figurative “black family” (Folb 1980:26).
Needless to say, the name one uses to characterize another is representative of their feelings towards that perso ….