Black Gay Slang Explained to Suburban White People

We are a multi-lingual household. Josh and I speak English, and sometimes we speak Yiddish and  French.  Sometimes I speak Spanish, but not as well as I used to. James came into the household speaking another language—black gay slang—some of which I already knew, and some that I've been hustling to learn.

On a lark, I decided to google the phrase "to give shade" which has become standard lingo in our household. I knew what it meant, but I wanted to see what the interwebs would say about it. Imagine my delight when my first hit was this: Black Gay Slang Explained to Suburban White People. So maybe I'm not suburban, but I'm still the target demographic for this website. Maybe more than most, since I have high motivation to learn the language.

I recommend skipping the videos and just reading the text. In fact, I'll put the text right in here for you. And if any of you need a tutor, or just want to come over for remedial BGS lessons, the door is open.


Phrase #1: Read, e.g. Bitch I will read you!/Oooo was that a read?
Explanation: You may think you’re the cat’s meow, but let’s see how you feel after I tell you about yourself.

Phrase #2: Yaassss! (It’s not “yes” — it’s yaaaassss.), e.g. To a friend: “Honey I just landed a job at Vogue!” The friend says/texts: “Yaassss!”
Explanation: Wow, that’s amazing!

Phrase #3: Girl, what’s the tea/T?
Explanation: How was your day? Would you care to gossip?

Phrase #4: Worrrkkk!!! Work/werq/werk (See also “Yaassss!”) I’m about to WORK/WERQ/WERK this final paper Miss Honey, yaassss.
Explanation: You are incredibly good at what you do. What a great idea! I’m going to pursue this task to the best of my abilities.

Phrase #5: _______ gives me LIFE! E.g., Honey, Beyoncé’s performance on the VMAs last night gave me my life!
Explanation: I had a particularly riveting time/the experience was rather sensational and/or transformative.

Phrase #6: I’m not featuring that, e.g., His busted ass tried to talk to me at the bar last night. I’m not featuring that.
Explanation: I’d strongly prefer not to have anything to do with him.

Phrase #7: No tea, no shade, e.g., I would wait for you, but bitch the last time I did your ass was 40 minutes late — no tea, no shade!
Explanation: I know you don’t care to hear this because the truth hurts, but allow me say it anyway.

Phrase #8: Don’t come for me, e.g., That racist lady tried to insult me, but child I have a Ph.D. from Harvard. Don’t come for me.
Explanation: You have no clue just what you’re getting into, do you?

Phrase #9: Throwin’ shade, e.g. Girl why you throwin’ shade?
Explanation: Are you upset with me or something? Have I done something in particular to wrong you?

Phrase #10: Coin, e.g. Girl that job better pay me a cute coin. A bitch needs her coins! Bitch where my coins at, gur!
Explanation: I certainly hope the salary is up to par.

Phrase #11: I’m giving/serving you ___________ realness, e.g., I’m giving you Soul Train realness, honey. I’m serving you some serious suburban-bedroom realness.
Explanation: You couldn’t possibly tell the difference between me and people who were on actually Soul Train/in a suburban-bedroom.

Phrase #12: Gurl! (The “U” is crucial.)
Explanation: I think you might have lost your mind!

Phrase #13: Trade (a more old-school terminology), e.g., He always chasing a piece of trade.
Explanation: Why isn’t that puzzling — he seems to only be attracted to straight guys.

Phrase #14: OVAH!, e.g., Girl that look is OVAH!!
Explanation: That’s amazing!

Phrase #15 Gagging, e.g. As soon as I walked in the room they were all gagging, honey.
Explanation: They just couldn’t take their eyes off me. They’d never seen anything quite like it before, and they were completely stupefied.

Phrase #16 Girl/Gurl/Gur (a term of endearment) e.g., Hey girl! Bitch where you at gur!
Explanation: Hello you awesome person you.

Red Hook love affair, part two

I wanted to cook my kid some brisket, and I realized that I could get some meat at Fairway and I could do it first thing in the morning and put it in the slow cooker all day and it would be ready for us at night. So I dashed down to Red Hook at 7 AM, thinking Fairway was already open, but it opens at 8, so I got a surprise morning walk/run all to myself on the empty streets of Red Hook. My love affair continues. (I am especially proud of this first photo, which is a mini-golf course as seen through the slat in a weathered wooden fence.) Also, dinner at the end of the day with my kid? Delicious all around.

Putting the FREE back in FREElance, Red Hook

Ah, the freelance life!

I had a bunch of stuff to work on—a couple Jewniverses, some theater festival producing, a film job, some health insurance maintenance, the very end of my JCC work—and it was gorgeous out, and I could exercise the FREE part of FREElancing, and I could make the world my oyster. So I headed over to Red Hook, settled down in BAKED for an afternoon of work, and cranked it out. I mean, I CRANKED it out. Four hours in a cafe with wifi and pear something or other iced tea totally did the trick. And when I got done, I took a walk around the neighborhood, which felt strangely western to me. It reminded me of Olympia in 1986, when I spent a summer there, and it reminded me a little bit of Portland in the 1990s. It might have been the weather—cool, clear, and dry—and the proximity to the water, and it might have been the funky/artsy/entrepreneurial spirit of post-Sandy Red Hook, but I became simultaneously nostalgic and enamored. I'll be back Red Hook.

Malang Jobarteh

I adore kora music, and Malang Jobarteh plays gorgeously. I've passed him playing before, but I've never come across him when I had time to stop. But this time I did. I just stood and listened in the Union Square subway—his interwoven rhythms and melodies carrying me to a place of years past, when I used to pay a lot of attention to African music. And also carrying me forward, rooting in my mind and sticking with me when I needed to hear them. And also delighting me there in the moment, with the swirl of New York rushing around me.

That's all. Just the gift of noticing I could STOP and LISTEN to a musician of this caliber.

Air conditioning

Talk about selfish. Three of us live here. We own one air conditioner. It is now installed in my office. Not only that, but I didn't even carry it upstairs; Josh and James did. Not only that, but I didn't go to the hardware store to get the extra screws and parts we needed to install it. Josh did. Not only that, but I didn't even really install it. Josh did. I just helped a couple times.

Talk about joy. When the rest of the house was 90 degrees, my office was 72.

Selfish joy. 'Nuff said.

Far From Heaven

I almost missed it. The trains had signal problems (well, the tracks did) and the Q train was backed up in every station from DeKalb to Newkirk. I waited on the tracks for 20 minutes before they told us that, and then I ran out of the train, up the stairs, and as fast as I could in the insane heat, over to the 2 train on Nostrand. (I know this is a very Brooklyn-centric post so far.) On my way, a bus came, and I got on that, but then the bus got detoured because of road construction on Church. When I got to the 2, I dashed down the stairs, just in time for a train, which I got on at 7:20. I had an 8 PM curtain at Playwrights Horizons. It was not at all clear I would make it. But there were no train delays, and I arrived at Times Square at 7:50, and I ran the whole way to Playwrights, and I sat down in my seat at 7:59. And that's when the joy started. Because you know what it's like when you are running late, but you're sort of ambivalent? You don't really care that much if you make it to the thing you're going to? This is NOT how I felt. I was completely looking forward to making it to this. Far From Heaven, the new project by the creators of Grey Gardens (plus Richard Greenberg) starring the absolutely riveting Kelli O'Hara, and also featuring Nancy Anderson, who was flawless in her role as the conflicted best friend. (Side note. Nancy played a small but unforgettable part in this satirical media spot Josh and I made with Eric Ward, about the ways the anti-immigrant movement is trying to influence the environmental movement.)

I love seeing new musicals. I love seeing them when they work. I love seeing them when they don't. I love the process. I love the first passes. I love the glistening finished products. I love the interplay of music, lyrics, dancing, plot, character, and set. It's a complex organism, and I love it.

(I just got interrupted in my writing by something as opposite as my love for musicals as possible, and I am having a hard time getting my flow back. Please accept any shifts in tone you might notice.)

So it's 7:59, and the lights are about to go down, and I just LOVE that moment. Full of anticipation. I know the story, because I saw the movie. I know the themes are ones that matter to me. A picture perfect marriage. White middle class people from Connecticut. A society page gossip mill all around. The man in the perfect marriage actually gay. The woman actually likes black people. A society page gossip mill all around. Things unravel. Their heavenly corner of the world is much more complex than originally portrayed to be. But then again, we knew that was the case, didn't we? Because it's no longer 1957. And lots of people in 1957 knew that was the case, didn't they? Because they weren't white and middle class. And lots of white and middle class people in 1957 knew that was the case, didn't they? Because they had their eyes open. Or their husband was cheating on them. Or they didn't really have enough money. Or their wife was taking pills. Or their kid was getting beat up. Far From Heaven.

So it's 7:59, and the lights are about to go down, and I just LOVE that moment. And then the lights go down. And the unexpected comes right away. Photo projection on the screen. And immediately I am transported to Connecticut in the Fall. And the townspeople filter in, and eventually Kelli O'Hara comes center stage, and starts to sing, and I'm transported again, by the fluidity of her voice, and as my friend Jesse put it, by her hidden sadness.

So much more I could say, but that's enough. Sitting alone in the theater, 15 feet from Kelli O'Hara singing, with a stellar supporting cast without one sour note in the bunch.  Heaven. Not far from. Just heaven.

The Timeless Torches

I tried hard, I really did, to get pure and selfish joy from my yoga class. But a presumptuous teacher annoyed me to the point of leaving class in the middle. I moved on from that, and sweated my way through a work day in Brooklyn and Manhattan, and got myself to the World Trade Center PATH train at the end of the day, experiencing post traumatic stress from the years in Jersey, the years on PATH, but then my friends arrived, and then we were on the air conditioned train, and then we were in Newark, and then we were walking over to see the New York Liberty opening game of the season, and then there were some hoops set up outside and lots of young people were shooting, and then I was shooting with them too, and sinking free throws - swoosh, and then we were inside the air conditioned Prudential Center, and arriving just in time to hear the announcer say AND NOW. YOUR. NEW YORK LIBERTYYYYYY! And on cue, I get all teary because I get all teary when stadiums full of fans cheer for women athletes. And then we see Jay-Z on the court floor, and I'm happy he's also cheering on the women (and then later we see Rasheed Wallace and some other Knicks), and then the game is on and the women are good, and the Liberty take a strong lead and it looks like it will be a blowout, but it turns into a real game, and then the moment comes. The halftime show. A bunch of people run out onto the court, and I see that they are the Timeless Torches -- a group of dancers of size and of age, and they start to shimmy and shake, and that's my moment. Seeing a fat, fit, 63 year-old wonderful dancer shake it shake it baby, shake it shake it baby. And not just one, but a whole troupe. Sometimes corporate (sports) America gets it so right.

The game went into overtime, and then came down to the final seconds. With 11 seconds, down by 2, we got possession and evened the game back up. With .5 seconds on the clock, the Shock got the ball, inbounded and scored! Looked like we were heading into another overtime, when the refs overturned the basked because it had actually gone in after the buzzer.

We went down onto the floor—not to meet the players, but to meet the Torches. Here we are meeting Gloria. Gloria, I can only aspire.