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Race & Ethnicity

Reflections from a token black friend

"In the past, I've usually stayed quiet on these issues. Often, the pain of diving deep into them was too much to regularly confront."

Reflections from a token black friend

I am regularly the only black kid in the photo. I have mastered the well-timed black joke, fit to induce a guilty "you thought it but couldn't say it" laugh from my white peers. I know all the words to "Mr. Brightside" by the Killers.

I am a token black friend. The black one in the group of white people. This title is not at all a comment on the depth of my relationships; I certainly am blessed to have the friends that I do. But by all definitions of the term, I am in many ways its poster child. And given the many conversations occurring right now around systemic racism, it would feel wrong not to use my position as a respected friend within a multitude of different white communities to contribute to the current dialogue. I believe my story speaks directly to the covert nature of the new breed of racism — its structural side, along with implicit bias — and may prove helpful to many I know who seek a better understanding.


. . .

Growing up, I lived in the inner city of Boston, in Roxbury. I attended school in the suburbs through a program called METCO — the longest continuously running voluntary school desegregation program in the country, which began in the late 1960s. My two siblings and I attended school in Weston, Massachusetts, one of the nation's wealthiest towns. The place quickly became our second home, and alongside Boston, I would count it equally as the place I was raised. All three of us did very well by all standards. We had all been co-presidents of the school, my brother and I were both football captains, and all three of us went on to top-end universities.

For those wondering about the structural side of systemic racism, I'd ask you to consider a few questions. First: Why does METCO still exist? Segregation ended more than 60 years ago, yet there is a still a fully functioning integration program in our state. We haven't come very far at all. Many of our schools remain nearly as segregated as they were in the 1960s.

Second: What is the point? Weston improves its diversity. Without us, most of Weston's students would go through all those years seeing possibly three or four local black faces in their schools (and that's the reality for many white people in this country). As for the Boston students, most of whom are black, they receive a much higher-quality education. Property taxes, a structural form of racism meant to allow segregation to endure, have ensured that while schools have grown increasingly better in our suburbs, the inner-city schools continue to struggle with resources, attendance, and graduation rates.

Lastly: Why was I able to be so successful? A major criticism of the METCO program is that it doesn't produce better outcomes for its students than the city schools, so it just acts as a brain drain from the city. I am an exception. I held leadership roles in the school, was an accomplished athlete and student, and went on to what was, at the time, the best public university in the country. What's easily overlooked, though, is how my circumstances differed from the average student of color coming from the city. I came from a two-parent household. My mother was able to work from home our entire life, so she could take us places when we needed. Compared to other black families, we were relatively well-off financially, which afforded me a car in high school and thus allowed me to be highly involved. I had a stable church and home life and food security. This combination is uncommon for a young black kid in America.

In a piece my brother wrote reflecting on the current situation, he considered whether black privilege was real. He and I have both considered how our differences from the common story of black people made us "privileged." For instance, our immersion in the white community, our success in school and now in the workforce, and the fact that we grew up in a middle-class black household (highly uncommon in Boston) led us to believe we had somehow transcended the plight of the black man. Yet, what scared us both so much as we watched the videos of Ahmaud Arbery and George Floyd is that we clearly had not. In both cases, it could have been us. There is no escape. There is no level of success that will spare you. We are black men, and that is all that matters to some.

. . .

In the past, I've usually stayed quiet on these issues. Often, the pain of diving deep into them was too much to regularly confront. College changed many of my attitudes, but none more so than my full acceptance that racism is alive and well around me.

In college, I sought out more black friends, choosing to room with three people of color because I wanted to grow more connected to that side of my identity. The room afforded me a space to appreciate aspects of black culture and share stories of anger with people who looked like me. Many of my clearest interactions with racism occurred in college. It was there that I began to confront knowledge that roused more frustration within me, such as the war on drugs and its history as a weapon against black communities — although on every college visit, I watched people ingest more drugs and smoke with more impunity than I ever saw in the hood.

The length of my journey makes me inclined to be more patient with others in this process, as it's taken me this much time to wake up. We should all be reasonably patient with one another, but I would encourage individuals to not be patient with themselves and to treat these issues with the urgency they deserve. The anger on display over the past week should exhibit the need for change.

. . .

So many of my experiences growing up speak to implicit biases against black people. I think of how quickly others in school assumed I had a single mother, simply because my father, much like many of theirs, didn't visit school often. Or the number of times I've heard "you are so articulate" in a conversation where all I've shared is my name and other small personal details. Standing alone, each instance may seem insignificant or merely a compliment to my upbringing and education. However, the frequency with which I've received that comment tells otherwise. It reveals how a black kid speaking properly is surprising, and further, how it makes me appear worthy of sharing the person's company.

I also realized that the token black friend is not spared the realities facing a black kid from the hood. One morning, while getting ready for school, I heard my mother scream outside, followed by my brother sprinting down our stairs. In our 150-year-old home, every quick step down the stairs resembled a drumbeat. I followed my brother to find my mom standing at her car, visibly shaken, telling us, "He's running up the street. He took my phone." My brother and I, both barefoot, sprinted up our street and two others until we caught the culprit. I jumped on his back to stop him until my brother caught up, at which point Raj chewed him out and we took our stuff back — both too young and inexperienced in the ways of the streets to know we probably should have beat him up. The point is, though, we still had to go to school that day. And I remember being too embarrassed to tell any of my friends about what occurred that morning, thinking it would change for the worse the way they thought about me or where I came from every day.

I started carrying a knife during my junior year of high school. It quickly became a running joke among my core group of friends — whenever someone would say something out of pocket or stupid, we'd say, "Get the knife," and I'd comedically lay it on the table. What those friends definitely didn't know is that I carried the knife because I was afraid I might get jumped making my daily walk from the train station to my house late most evenings. How could my white friends from suburbia ever understand that?

. . .

In the wake of the past week's events, I've reflected on my interactions with the police. These interactions lifted the veil of black privilege I thought existed, though it was likely only afforded to me because of my military affiliation.

I was once pulled over in a cemetery, less than one minute after getting back into my car after visiting a friend's grave, only to be asked, "What are you doing here?" The cop had been parked right by me the entire time, so he obviously just seen me out at a gravestone alone.

"Visiting my friend's grave before heading back to school tomorrow, sir," I said.

The officer's aggressive demeanor changed only after I told him I went to the Naval Academy, at which point we entered a friendly conversation about his days at Norwich. What stuck with me is what he could've done in those cemetery back roads without another living person in sight — no witnesses, no cameras.

Another time, when I'd walked back to my best friend's empty house after a party, I accidentally set off the alarm, bringing the cops buzzing to his door. I wonder if the only reason it went so smoothly is because I quickly identified myself as a member of the military, opening their ears to hear the full story of what was happening. I think of what might've happened if they'd mistaken me, holding my military ID in my hand as I walked out the door, for something else.

It's tough to realize how rarely these possibilities occurred to me when I was younger. When I was pulled over numerous times, often without cause, driving to a hockey game in Weston or parked talking to my white girlfriend, I didn't consider that the cops might have had it against me. When I did witness these biases, I quickly brushed them off as insignificant.

Early in middle school, I arrived to our high school's football game with a group of friends, all white, to find three or four policemen standing by the entrance. I greeted them with a "Good evening, officers," and then quietly said to my friends, "You gotta befriend them so they are on your side later." My buddies thought it was hilarious, and I had succeeded in making the boys laugh. Looking back, I realize they didn't understand that I was speaking to something legitimate. I was no older than 12 or 13, and I already understood that the police would not be inclined to help me. It was only funny to my friends because they'd never had those sorts of conversations.

I think back to when my friends never understood why I wasn't allowed to play with water guns — or any toy guns, for that matter — when I was a boy. I'd be so excited to visit a friend's house and use their airsoft gun in the backyard. I used to get so frustrated when my mom told us it was "too dangerous" for black boys to do that and that someone would mistake it for a real gun. When I was 16, 12-year-old Tamir Rice was shot and killed while playing with a replica toy airsoft gun. I realized my mom was right.

I think of the way the black girls were treated as second rate in high school. Guys rarely tried to talk to them romantically, and if they did, others discussed it with an undertone of comedy. I never felt this way, personally, but didn't realize until college that my silence was compliance. I was participating in denying dignity to the black women around me.

This attitude from my white friends didn't end in high school, either. This past year, I was at a bar in Narragansett, Rhode Island, where I'd quickly befriended one of the guys my friend had brought with him. At one point, I expressed my interest in a girl who had just entered the bar. He asked me to point her out, so I did, also noting that she was black. He responded, "Yeah bro, she's cute, but you could have one of the white girls here!" I questioned his statement, and he realized it didn't fly with me. We eventually moved on and continued the night, but I couldn't get it out of my head. He truly didn't think anything of it when he said it. And he assumed that I would agree with him. To him, the preference for white women was undisputed, so he suggested it unapologetically. It was especially hard for me because, outside of that statement, there was nothing to suggest he was racist. He had treated me with nothing but love and admiration and accepted me into his crew. It was simply ignorance, which had probably been reinforced countless times. That was difficult to wrestle with.

. . .

These attitudes directly contribute to and maintain systemic racism within our society. Our disparate relationships with the police, along with messages sent to the black males when they "speak properly," or to black girls about their inferiority (spoken or unspoken), paint an inaccurate picture of what a black person is supposed to be. These attitudes foster the ignorance and apathy that is so rightly being called out right now. They ensure the survival of this corrupt system.

I think of times when my own ignorance let me buy into the insensitivity shown toward the black struggle, often to induce laughs. During a visit to a Louisiana plantation during my sophomore year of high school, I shamefully recall posing for a picture with a noose around my neck. I remember walking around downtown New Orleans later that evening with it around my friend's neck, me jokingly walking him like a dog. Two black guys on the street, a bit older than us, said to me, "That's not fucking funny, bro." I immediately filled with guilt upon recognizing my stupidity, and I struggle even today to understand what made me think either were permissible at the time. Sharing that story relieves some of the guilt, yes, but it also speaks to how being wrapped up in white teen culture led me to buy into, and even spearhead, the insensitivity that is often exhibited toward issues of black struggle that are incorrectly categorized as "in the past."

If you don't agree, why did none of my white friends call me out for it? Yes, we were young at the time, but I'd ask: Why didn't we know any better? We assumed the pain of that type of racism was dead, but we all just witnessed a modern-day lynching on camera.

Then there are the instances most white people will recognize, though they probably never knew how damaging their words were. Every token black friend can recall the times when a white friend chooses to dub you "the whitest black kid I know." It's based on the way I speak or dress or the things I'm into, and it's a comment on me not fitting the image they have of a black person. When I resist accepting such a title, the white person claims it's a compliment — as if the inherent superiority of whiteness should leave me honored to be counted among their ranks.

More impactfully, it suggests that my blackness is something that can be taken from me. That my identity as a black man fades because I am into John Mayer or I've visited the Hamptons. And further, it assumes that my black identity is not something I am proud of. It ignores the fact that the acculturation and assimilation I experienced growing up with all white friends was not voluntary. It suggests that my blackness is a burden, when in fact, minimizing my blackness was most often my burden. Another example: when I am criticized by my white friends for code-switching when I am with my black friends, just because they don't understand the slang and how it connects black people to a common culture.

The biases are evident; you just need to pay attention. Believe me, because I wasn't spared from buying into them myself. It wasn't until I got to college that I began to realize how much subconscious effort I'd put into being as unstereotypically black as possible. Whether in my choices concerning the way I dress, speak, or even dance, I noticed that, without realizing it, I'd habitually quelled aspects of my black identity. And based on that ability, I consistently inflated my self-worth and considered myself superior to my fellow black brothers. I had unknowingly bought into the very biases set out against me.

. . .

I'd emphasize that most white people do not understand their level of ignorance — especially the good ones, who mean well, and that negligence is part of the problem.

Many of the white people I know have no concept of the role they've played, passively or actively, in perpetuating these conditions. They have no idea how much we long to hear them speak up for us and to embrace some of the discomfort around these issues with us. Furthermore, the good ones are oblivious to the level of overt racism still out there. I have been among my white friends each time I've been called "nigger" by a stranger. And every time, my white friends seemed shocked. They had been misled to believe that kind of overt racism only happened in the past (or in To Kill a Mockingbird). Comfortingly, they always verbally leaped to my defense, and the savior complex within them encouraged them to seek retribution.

In one vivid case, at a bar in Cape Cod, after I'd just finished a conversation with a friend, one guy, not realizing I was still in earshot or aware of my relationship with this friend, came over to him and asked, "You really talking to that nigger?" My friend was stunned but immediately came back at the guy, his anger for me visible. He then came to me, boasting that he has black friends as if that should warrant him a pass.

As much as each situation ruined my night, everything after went well, and I was embraced by a group of allies who wanted to fight for me when they heard that word. I had no further reason to be upset. Yet, probably only the friend who walked ahead of the group with me knows I cried my eyes out the entire walk home, unable to explain how that word garnered so much control over me.

The problematic result of these overtly racist situations is that good white people feel liberated from any responsibility concerning the privilege, structural racism, and implicit biases that do not make them racist themselves, but that they do benefit from. This moment is one of the first times I have felt it was not only okay but encouraged to share these things.

If there is one thing every token black friend knows, it is that we are not to provoke serious discussions of racial issues among our white crowd. We should only offer an opinion on such matters when invited to do so by our white peers. Further, we should ensure that the opinion is in line enough with the shared opinion of our white friends, as to not make it too awkward or ostracizing.

It doesn't need to be, and shouldn't be this way. Many of us are eager to share our stories, and we have been waiting for the invitation to do so.

. . .

I am comforted when I see white people call things out for what they are. When my friends and I rented a 16-passenger van for a New Year's Eve trip to Montreal, we found ourselves held up at the border coming back. The older agent, surveying the passengers, asked how we all knew each other, to which we answered, "We all went to high school together." The officer then followed up by singling me out, "And how do you fit in here?" What he was suggesting about my place in the group of all white guys was telling enough, and the guys I was with were quick to support me and point it out to their parents when debriefing the trip once we arrived home. If only they knew how often I'd experienced situations like that one. White people should know that we need more conversations about little things like this. It's not our job to heal the world, but if we can start by getting people to question small interactions and beliefs, we can begin moving toward progress.

The white friends I grew up with have shared with me how thankful they are to have had me in their lives during their developmental years. They wonder what attitudes they might harbor if they hadn't had a black best friend their entire lives. They arrived at college to befriend kids who had never met a black person in their lives, and they encountered countless out of pocket statements from those individuals.

I am constantly thankful that I grew up with genuine white friends, unlike many of my extended family members. My cousin said to me once, "I don't like being around white people… I always feel like they hate me." I was able to learn that, more often than not, that isn't the case. Still, my cousin points to the overwhelming sentiment that black lives are not accepted or celebrated by white people.

Recent events present a unique opportunity to begin conversations that have been waiting to happen for far too long. To both black and white people, I'd write that understanding is a two-way street. To my white friends, I'd tell you that while that's true, white people have a longer journey to get to where we need to meet. It is time for white people to muster the courage to call out those comments you hear from your parents or uncles and aunts. The pass has been given for far too long, and every time you don't speak up, you enable far worse words and behaviors. For those of you who think an old dog can't learn new tricks, I'd point to the numerous white adults who have texted me this week noting that they have been in their bubble for too long, and asking me to keep sending them content. It's time to pop the bubble.

My experience as the token black friend has allowed me a unique lens into many of the gaps that currently prevent mutual understanding between white and black people. I have spent so much time in the white community and enjoyed the privileges that come with that, yet I am still affected by these issues. Despite my story's obvious differences from that of the average young black man, I believe it speaks to the immediate need for change. Additionally, it serves as an example of a genuinely meaningful relationship between a black person and white people and emphasizes the ability of white people to be either allies or enemies.

I will never turn my back on the black community. You'll bump our music and rep our athletes, but will you stand with us when it's not convenient? The pain is real. The stories are real. Our call for help is real. My uncle posted on Facebook yesterday, "When the dust settles, I wonder if anything will actually change?" To be honest, I'm not sure how quickly or how much things will change. But I know that one thing is directly within our individual control. You can celebrate black lives by making a choice to inquire about them, to educate yourself, and to question many of the norms around us. You no longer have the excuse of being unaware of your own ignorance. I'd reword my uncle's post to a question that we should all ask ourselves: "When the dust settles, I wonder if I will actually change?"

"No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite." — Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom

This article originally appeared on Medium and was first shared here on 6.19.20. You can read it here.

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5 ways people are going all in this week

From the silliest to the most sentimental, there are so many ways people are going “all in” on the internet this week. Here are our five favorites.

5 ways people are going all in this week
5 ways people are going all in this week
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What does it mean to go “all in” on something? We’ll tell you: Whether it’s an elaborately-themed birthday party for your dog (like this one) or a guy learning Mandarin to propose to his girlfriend, going “all in” means total commitment. There’s no holding back, no second guessing—just full-throttle enthusiasm, with some flair and creativity thrown in. When people go “all in,” something truly special happens as a result.

In this roundup, we’ve scoured the internet for the best examples of people going “all in”—moments where passion, creativity, and commitment take center stage. Some are silly, some are sentimental, but all of them are a reminder that giving 100% is the only way to truly leave a mark on this world. Buckle up: These folks didn’t just show up, they went all in.


This guy's passion for lip syncing 

@pokemonmasterzo every time I see an edit to this mix it’s almost guaranteed tears #beyonce #tyrant #allnight #fyp ♬ original sound - dannyvarr

We all lip-sync from time to time. Sometimes we even get a little bit into it. And then there’s this guy: TikTok creator Pokemonmasterzo, who goes viral every other week re-enacting passionate lip-syncs of trending songs. No matter what song people are listening to this week—a Beyonce mash-up, an old Radiohead hit, or a celebratory rendition of “Love Story” in honor of Taylor Swift’s recent engagement—this guy goes completely all in with hand gestures, dance moves, and quite often even a shot of his face superimposed on the screen (also singing!). His picture is basically next to the definition of “enthusiastic” in the dictionary. We can't get enough.

This trading experiment, brought to you by All In

Remember that story about a guy who traded a paperclip for a house? In a nutshell, Canadian blogger Kyle MacDonald started a year-long project back in 2025 to take one red paperclip and keep exchanging it for things of increasing value until he ended up with a house. With the paperclip, MacDonald traded for a pen. With the pen, he traded up for a hand-sculpted doorknob. With the doorknob, he traded up for a Coleman camp stove (with fuel included). On and on it went until 2006, when he finally traded a role in a movie for a two-story farmhouse in Kipling, Saskatchewan. It’s basically a testament to what you can accomplish if you just have dedication, creativity, and vision (aka, you go absolutely all in).

This week, our friends at All In are starting their own version of the paperclip trend, starting with an All In bar and trading up to see what they get. (Though we have to say the phrase “trading up” is debatable, because these bars are delicious.) Check it out and see where they end up!

Another thing you should check out: This incredible deal where you can get a free(!!!) box of All In organic snack bars. Just sign up with your phone number on Aisle, grab two free boxes of All In bars at Sprouts, snap a pic of your receipt and text it through Aisle. They’ll Venmo or PayPal you back for the cost of one box, and that’s it! Enjoy.

This "chicken jockey" ice skating routine 

@k.and.miss.congeniality 🐓⛸️🌟Chicken Jockey from Minnesota 🌟⛸️🐓 @U.S. Figure Skating #nationalshowcase ♬ Holding Out for a Hero - yourmusic4ever💯

If you have children over the age of, say, preschool, you’ve likely heard the words “chicken jockey,” a term from Minecraft, a popular video game in which players can build, create, and interact with others in a 3D world made up of blocks.

A little background: A “chicken jockey” in the Minecraft universe is when, in the course of the game, a baby zombie will randomly spawn onscreen, riding a chicken and attacking the players. (I don’t get it either, I just had to have a child explain this to me just now.)

Anyway, in the Minecraft movie, which premiered earlier this year, there’s a scene where a chicken jockey drops into the arena and Jack Black’s character shouts “Chicken Jockey!” The moment quickly became a fan favorite and turned into something of a movement, where moviegoers would scream “Chicken jockey!” and erupt in chaos, throwing popcorn and just generally going wild (you could even say they were going all in).

Fast-forward to today, and chicken jockey is still a popular term among kids—so much so that this young performer created an ice-skating routine to honor the chicken jockey moment, complete with a full-body costume. That’s right—she ice skated in an inflatable chicken jockey costume. Talk about dedication. The creativity, the enthusiasm, and the cultural relevance truly make this a performance to behold.

This woman's transformation—an entire year in the making

@tiszfit.cpt And I always made sure I was on incline 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 Was it hard in the beginning? Hell yeah sometimes I would only sprint for 10 secs at a time But I knew if I kept doing it I would get faster , stronger & build my endurance And quess what I did ! Keep going sis !! It’s possible with consistency! #gymtok #motivation #fypシ ♬ Otis nola bounce part 2 - VIP

There’s something beautiful about a person who shows up for herself, day in and day out. In this viral TikTok, creator @tiszfit.cpt recorded herself running on a treadmill in her garage every day, ultimately reaching a goal of eighty (!!!!) pounds lost. Going all in to achieve your goals is one thing to celebrate for sure, but it’s just as meaningful to watch her confidence gradually grow throughout the video. As she continues to run, her garage door opens little by little, until she’s working out unashamedly in open view of her neighborhood. You can’t help but be incredibly proud.

The most tear-jerking college send-off you've ever seen

Finally, here’s one of the most thoughtful (and meaningful) college send-offs we’ve ever seen. In this video, Ben (@its_benzram) walks into the hallway of his parent’s house and finds all of his childhood toys lined up along the walls leading to the staircase. The reason? They’ve all come to “say goodbye” and wish him well as he goes to college. Not only are all his stuffed animals there, his family made handmade signs (“We Love You”) and created a collage of pictures of Ben throughout the years alongside his childhood toys. Parents: Get a box of tissues before you watch this. Not kidding.

Snag your free (!!) snack bars here while this deal lasts.

Some American names sound really funny to Mandarin speakers.

When you see a list of the year's most popular baby names, what you're really looking at are the most common baby names in a specific country or culture. If you live in the U.S., you likely know a whole lot of kids named Olivia, Emma, Liam, and Noah, but if you live in Thailand or Kyrgyzstan or Botswana, you probably don't.

Simply saying common names in different countries can sometimes result in hilarity. A name that sounds beautiful and has a lovely meaning in one language might sound odd and mean something very different in another. For instance, Odd is a common name in Norway, but it sounds…well, odd to and English ear. The former president of Vietnam had the last name Phuc, which surely led to some awkward moments for Americans who had to address "President Phuc." (The "u" is pronounced more like the "oo" sound, but if you'd never heard it said, you wouldn't know.)


Chinese language and culture instructor Dr. Candise Lin is sharing American names that sound funny to Mandarin speakers because of what they mean when pronounced with Chinese phonetics, and it's a hoot.

- YouTube www.youtube.com


1. Robin (pronounced Luo ben) = Running Naked

2. Robinson (pronounced Luo ben shen) = God of Running Naked

3. Nelson (pronounced Niao shen) = God of Pee

4. Benson (pronounced Ben shen) = God of Dumb

5. Mason (pronounced Mei shen) = God of Beauty

6. Nicholas (pronounced Ni kou si le) = You Are So Stingy

nicholas cage, names, surprised, language, translations Surprised Nicolas Cage GIF Giphy

7. Isabella (pronounced Yi sheng bei la) = The Doctor Got Arrested

8. Dylan (pronounced Di neng) = Low IQ

9. Nancy (pronounced Nan si) = Difficult to Die

10. Robert (pronounced Luo bo) = Carrot

11. Ashley (pronounced Ao si ni) = Wear You Down to Death

12. Logan (pronounced Nao geng) = Brain Stroke

13. Tiffany (pronounced Ti fa ni) = Kick Your Ass

tiffany, names, translations, chinese, mandarin Tiffany Darwish GIF by New Kids On The Block Giphy

14. Martha (pronounced Ma hua) = Fried Dough Twist

15. Jeff (pronounced Jie fu) = Brother-in-law

16. Daniel (pronounced Da niu) = Big Shot

17. Gordon (pronounced Gou dan) = Dog Balls

18. Melanie (pronounce Mei ren li) = Nobody Cares

A few of these names actually seem pretty rockstar in Mandarin. Mason as "God of Beauty'? Nothing wrong with that. Nancy being "Difficult to Die?" Heck yeah. But some are particularly unfortunate. God of Pee? Yeesh. Low IQ? Ouch.

Of course, the names in Chinese are based on transliterations that aren't exact. English and Mandarin have different sounds, so many of them are just the closest approximations that there are in terms of pronunciation. (But then along comes Tiffany, kicking ass as clear as day.)

chinese characters, china, mandarin, language, english Chinese characters aren't phonetic in the way that English letters are.Photo credit: Canva

Naturally, people who have some beef with people who bear some of these names are having a heyday, with comments like "Ashley actually makes a lot of sense," or "Not Gordon Ramsay actually being called Dog Ballz Ramsay." But mostly people are just delighted to see how names they see as totally "normal" mean hilarious things in Chinese.

As one person wrote, "This was awesome and about time! Chinese names get a lot of humor attention in English circles. It’s nice to know English names can also be a bit ridiculous in Chinese." It's likely that many of us have never thought about how American names might sound in other countries.

But names not translating well is truly a universal phenomenon, and as long as we're all laughing about it together, finding the funny when things—even our names—get lost in translation can be a fun way to connect across cultures.

Image via Canva

Millennial mom shares why Boomer grandparents are the worst with grandkids.

Every generation has taken a different approach to parenting. From Gen X to Boomers to Millennials, each generation has brought up their kids different than the generation before. And for Millennial parents with Boomer grandparents, some have a bone to pick.

TikTokker Phyllis (@motherphyllis) pointed out three of the biggest reasons why she thinks Millennial parents (like herself) think that Boomer grandparents are *the worst* when it comes to helping take care of their grandchildren. The first reason she is calling out Boomer grandparents is because in her experience, they don't really want to help out if needed, and throw a "you need to raise your own kids" argument if asked for help.


"I’m not raising your kids. They’re your kids take care of them yourself even though trust us we don’t want you raising our kids. No thanks 🤣," she captioned the post.

@motherphyllis

I’m not raising your kids. They’re your kids take care of them yourself even though trust us we don’t want you raising our kids. No thanks 🤣 #fyp #fypシ #grandparents #millennial #boomer #mom #sahm #fypage #honest #truth #foryoupage #fyppppppppppppppppppppppp

In the video, she says, "Because y'all couldn't wait to have grandbabies. You were so excited about it. And then when they get here, you *maybe* stop up at the hospital, *maybe* stop over to the house. You stay for 45 minutes, snap a picture, upload it to Facebook and then you gotta get home to the dogs. And then you might not see the baby again until their first birthday."

She goes on to add that Boomer grandparents also like to add in that they are "not raising your kids. 'They're your kids. I raised my kids. Sorry but I'm not doing that'," she says, adding that when Boomer grandparents are asked to do a small favor like watch their grandkids for a doctor's appointment, they use that argument. "Us Millennials are like, 'Wait! We weren't asking you to raise them. We were asking you to keep them for maybe like, an hour or two."

Her second reason why she thinks Boomer grandparents are the worst is that they are irritated/agitated easily with grandkids. "Honestly boomers are so agitated with the grandkids. My grandma would never 🤣😩," she captioned the video.

@motherphyllis

Honestly boomers are so agitated with the grandkids. My grandma would never 🤣😩 #fyp #fypシ #foryoupage #fyppppppppppppppppppppppp #mom #millennial #momlife #boomer #generations

She goes on to explain that Boomer grandparents do "weird sh*t", like "they won't see the kids for a year, maybe because they're long distance, and they come around and are instantly irritated with the kids. They can't even stand it," she says. "It's like, 'Quit talking! Quit jumping! Quit doing that!' It's like, what are they doing? They're just eating Goldfish. 'The crunching is giving me a headache, it's just annoying.'"

Then she gives another scenario, with Boomer grandparents who live 45 minutes away who "act like it's a total inconvenience to see the kids like, I don't know, once a month or once a week even...Boomers be so irritated with the grandkids these days."

@motherphyllis

Just calling to chat about myself… #fyp #fypシ #foryoupage #fyppppppppppppppppppppppp #sahm #mom #millennial #boomer #generations #funny #honest #truth

Finally, she shares that the third reason she thinks Boomer grandparents are the worst is because when they call to check in, they only want to chat about themselves. "Just calling to chat about myself…," she captioned the post.

"You think they're calling to see how you're doing or how the kids are doing or something of that matter besides themselves, but nope...they're just calling to talk about themselves," she says. "They want to talk about the new beach house, they want to tell you about how they're furnishing it. They might start the conversation with, 'How's everyone doing?', and then when you start to explain how everyone's doing they're like, 'Okay well that's enough! I didn't want the whole story. I was just calling to talk about myself.'"

via Mattew Barra/Pexels
There's one word you can't say on a cruise ship.

There are some things you just don't say. You don't yell out "bomb!" on an airplane, make jokes about carrying weapons while going through security, or, as Michael Scott from The Office knows, loudly proclaim that a boat you're currently on is sinking.

Those are all pretty obvious examples, but sometimes etiquette and decorum are a little more subtle. If you're not experienced in the ways of the venue you're in, you might not know all the unspoken rules. And you might find out the hard way. Cruise ships, for example, have their own very specific set of rules and regulations that guests should abide by.


On December 10, 2023, Royal Caribbean’s Serenade of the Seas set sail on the Ultimate World Cruise—a 274-day global trek that visits 11 world wonders and over 60 countries.


cruise, 9-month cruise, Marc Sebastian, cruise life, vacation, titanic, unspoken rules, etiquette, cruise etiquette, royal caribbean 9 months is a very long time to be aboard a boat, even a giant cruise ship. Photo by Peter Hansen on Unsplash

This incredible trip covered the Americas, Asia Pacific, Middle East, Mediterranean and Europe with a ticket price that ranges from $53,999 to $117,599 per passenger.

With such a unique and incredible offering, it's understandable that Royal Caribbean wanted to invite plenty of influencers to help them get the word out.

Aboard the Serenade to the Seas was popular TikToker Marc Sebastian, who documented his experience throughout the journey. In one video with over 4.3 million views, he revealed what he’s learned over his first few weeks aboard the ship; the biggest was the one word you’re not allowed to say.

"So here's [what] I've learned about cruising since I've spent 18 nights on this floating retirement home with a Cheesecake Factory attached. First, number one, you're not supposed to talk about the Titanic," he says in the clip.

Titanic! It's the ultimate taboo when you're on a giant ship traversing the ocean. Even after all these years, it's still too soon to make even lighthearted comparisons or jokes.

@marcsebastianf

someone get whoopi on the line girl i have some goss for her #ultimateworldcruise #worldcruise #serenadeoftheseas #cruisetok #cruise #9monthcruise #titanic

“Who knew that? I didn’t,” Sebastian said. “I brought it up to an entire room of people having lunch that our ship is only 100 feet longer than the Titanic — when I tell you that utensils dropped. Waiters gasped. It’s dead silent.”

Sebastian was flabbergasted. "It wasn't in the... handbook," he joked. "Not that I read the handbook, clearly."

After the unexpected reaction, his cruise friend told him, “You’re not allowed to talk about the Titanic.” It makes sense.

Who wants to be reminded of the tragedy that killed around 1,500 people while sinking one of the most impressive engineering feats of the era? More experienced cruisers chimed in that they were familiar with the unique piece of etiquette.

cruise, 9-month cruise, Marc Sebastian, cruise life, vacation, titanic, unspoken rules, etiquette, cruise etiquette, royal caribbean Pro tip: Don't ask the band on board to play "My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion Giphy

"When I went on a cruise, my mom told me saying Titanic was equivalent to screaming ‘bomb’ at an airport," Mikayla wrote in the comments.

"It’s like saying Macbeth in a theatre, it’s an unspoken rule" another commenter added.

"I’m sorry you’re telling me you had a Harry Potter like experience saying Voldemort at Hogwarts but it was the titanic on a modern day cruise I’m cryingggg" joked another.

Later in the video covering little known cruise facts, Sebastian admits he was surprised to learn that cruise ships have godmothers and that the pools are filled with seawater.

In an update from June of 2024, Sebastian explains that he only stayed on the cruise for 18 nights. He was not booked to stay throughout the entire voyage, and for him, that was a relief.

He initially jokes that he was kicked off the boat for saving a penguin that had jumped aboard. But in the end, he admits he was more than happy to deboard early.

"I walked off that ship not a happy man," he said, saying the ship was overstimulating and stressful. In another video, he films as the ship navigates the Drake Passage, one of the most notoriously dangerous and choppy stretches of water in the world. It looks stressful indeed, to say the least.

Cruising isn't for everyone, let alone for 274 days straight! But now Sebastian knows the golden rule for his next cruise.

This story originally appeared last year. It has been updated.

Teachers are quitting in droves for a variety of heartbreaking reasons.

When I was a child, I used to line up my dolls and stuffed animals on my bedroom floor, pull out my mini-chalkboard and in my best teacher's voice, “teach” them reading, writing and arithmetic. Pretending to be a teacher was my favorite kind of imaginative play. In college, I majored in Secondary Education and English and became an actual teacher. I loved teaching, but when I started having kids of my own, I quit to stay home with them. When they got to school age, I decided to homeschool and never went back to a traditional classroom.

I kept my foot in the proverbial school door, however. Over the years, I’ve followed the education world closely, listened to teacher friends talk about their varied experiences and written countless articles advocating for better pay and support for teachers. I've seen a teacher burnout crisis brewing for a while. Then the pandemic hit, and it was like a hurricane hitting a house of cards. Teachers are not OK, folks. Many weren’t OK before the pandemic, but they’re really not OK now.


education, classroom, elementary school, students, teachers, teaching An empty classroomCanva Photos

A recent poll from the National Education Association found that 90% of its members say that feeling burned out is a serious problem, 86% have seen more teachers quitting or retiring early since the pandemic began and 80% say that job openings that remain unfilled have added to the workload of those who are still teaching. And more than half of teachers say they will leave the profession earlier than they had planned. Some surveys show that being a teacher is even more likely to drive burnout and anxiety than being a healthcare worker, and that's saying something.

I checked in with several dozen teachers who have quit recently or are close to quitting, and the response was overwhelming. Over and over I heard the same sentiments: I went into teaching because I enjoy working with kids and I want to make a difference. I love teaching. I love my students. These are teachers who throw their whole heart into their work.

So why are they quitting? The reasons are plentiful—and heartbreaking.

Low pay is an issue many of us think of when it comes to teachers, but it's not the main thing pushing teachers to quit. One teacher told me that in his school district, garbage collectors make $10K more per year and have better benefits than teachers with graduate degrees and a decade of experience, but that wasn't his primary reason for wanting to leave. There’s no question teachers deserve to be paid more—a lot more—but teachers don’t choose to become teachers for the money, and most don’t quit because of the money, either. It’s the issues that make the wages not worth it.

(Many school districts are adopting 4-day school weeks in an effort to entice more teachers to join up and stay. It helps with pay-related issues, but doesn't solve many of the other problems.)

teachers, teacher pay, teachers quitting, education, public education A teacher holds an "I quit" signImage via Canva

One of those issues is a lack of recognition that teachers are actually highly skilled professionals. “Paying teachers like we are professionals would go a long way,” says Bonny D., an educator in Idaho, “but really it's about trusting us to be able to do our work. Many teachers have Master's degrees or have been teaching for many years, but still aren't listened to or considered experts when it comes to helping students succeed.”

Jessica C. has taught middle and high school English in three different states and resigned in December. She says she loved working with kids and designing curriculum, but she finally left after seeing more and more teacher autonomy get stripped away as standardized testing became the primary focus.

“Despite my years of experience across multiple states and my two graduate degrees in education, I felt like nobody with any real power believed I was actually competent at my job,” she says. “I saw evidence that my students were growing as readers and writers, but at the end of the day the only thing that mattered was hitting a certain number on those state assessments. It was really disheartening to feel like nothing else mattered but that test, and that even though the test itself doesn't resemble any real-world reading or writing skills in any way, it was supposed to be the focus of all of my instruction.

teachers, teacher pay, teachers quitting, students, tests, standardized test, education, public education students taking a testImage via Canva

“But let's not forget,” she added, “I also wasn't allowed to look at it at all or even really know what was on it or how it would be scored.”

California elementary school teacher Ann B. shared a similar sentiment: “Teaching over the past decade has lost its charm and sparkle. So many mandates, broken systems, top-down management from people who haven’t spent much time in the classroom made it difficult.“

Sarah K. teaches high school history and AP psychology in Tennessee. Unlike most of the teachers I spoke to, she is having one of the best school years of her career, but she shares concern for the state of public education in general. “I think a lot of teachers feel attacked and are afraid and are feeling like the job can't be done anymore,” she told me. “As a society, we have lost our ability to trust each other, and it is manifesting itself in not trusting teachers to teach, do their jobs and follow our hearts to love and inspire kids.”

In addition to micromanagement from administrators, classroom control from legislators and demonization from parents, I had two teachers share with me that they’d been through a school shooting. ESL teachers from different states shared that their school districts refused to put resources toward programs that would help their students succeed and basically told them that those students didn’t matter. Other teachers feel like their own lives don’t even matter.

students, teachers, teacher pay, education, teachers quitting, school administrators A teacher talks with a school administrator Image via Canva

“A teacher passed away from COVID in January in a different building,” says Jenn M., a 14-year veteran teacher from Pennsylvania. “The kids had the day off. The teachers came in and had no directive of what to do. We got tested for COVID, and that was it. I literally feel like if I die, nobody in the district would care about me. I want to feel important and impactful at work.”

And then there's the mental load that has always existed for teachers but has definitely been exacerbated by the pandemic. Teaching is not 8:00 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. with the summers and holiday breaks off. That’s just not how it works; not for any teacher I’ve ever known. And it's taxing work on every level. You’re working with dozens if not hundreds of kids every day. You care about them and their well-being, you’re trying to teach them whatever your subject is but also helping nurture them into fully functional human beings. You have constantly changing expectations coming from every side.

teachers, teacher pay, teacher exhaustion, schools, students, teachers quitting An exhausted teacherImage via Canva

“Teaching is all-encompassing,” says an elementary school teacher from New Mexico who wishes to remain anonymous. “It is seriously draining emotionally and physically. It's not just a job that is easily turned off at the end of the day when you go home.

“Everything falls on the teachers,” she adds. “We are stuck in a no-win situation in the middle of a societal crisis. Schools have been pushing higher academics at earlier ages and the need to teach basic social skills, norms and niceties is higher than ever. Our roles and the demands on us are just increasing.”

Bonny D. agrees. “There is a mental load that goes with teaching,” she says. “It's very difficult to specifically identify. It's the workload, it's the constant changing of what's required of us as legislation changes, it's the restrictions on what we can teach, the expectation that we will work outside of the paid contract hours, the fact that it's easier to go to work sick than make sub plans, it's micromanaging teenagers, doing extra things in the school with no extra pay, the low morale created by parents who want to dictate what we do in the classroom without ever discussing it with us or volunteering in the classroom themselves.”

teachers, ross geller, friends, education, gif, students Ross Geller from Friends gets it!Giphy

And so much of what's expected of teachers is self-contradictory, as Jessica C. points out in a bullet list summary of what teachers have been asked to do over the past few years:

- Differentiate your instruction for every child, but don't deviate from what the textbook says to teach.- Teach directly from the textbook, word for word and page for page whenever possible, but also spend hours of your time designing a unit plan (even though one is provided in the textbook company's supplementary materials).

- Turn in detailed weekly lesson plans, even though we really just want you to turn the page and read what it says every day.

- Hold every child to high expectations and keep all your instruction and assessment on grade level, but make sure none of them fail, even if they come into your room drastically below grade level.

- Attend regular PLC meetings, but the principal is going to set the agenda and run the whole meeting and you won't really be asked to contribute anything at all. (Again, we're going to ignore that year-long training you got in your last district about the PLC model and just assume you don't know that we're deviating from the model completely.)

- You should be focusing on instruction, not wasting a minute of class time, but we're also going to expect you to collect T-shirt order forms, and fundraiser money, and take your kids down to the cafeteria for school pictures, and fill in for colleagues on your planning period. Oh, and you'll have to stay late several times a grading period so that you can work the gates at athletic events, because your professional performance review will be based on how much you gave to the school above and beyond your job description and contractual obligations.


The pandemic, of course, has made everything worse. Teachers have borne the brunt of all the upheaval in education, not only in having to completely change the way they teach and implement new technologies overnight, but also in dealing with the emotional and developmental challenges their students are facing throughout all of this. The pandemic has also exacerbated and highlighted issues of inequity in education that were already there.

Catlin G. is an intervention specialist who has taught for 18 years, primarily in schools in under-resourced communities. She says that what many districts are now dealing with—attendance and staffing issues, high variability in children's academic growth, a lack of resources—are all too familiar to her and the students she has worked with.

teachers, students, classrooms, teachers quitting, teacher pay, education, public education An empty classroomImage via Canva

"The pandemic drew a lot of attention to the role of education, but much of it has been focused on issues such as CRT or masking, which have deflected from bigger, long-term problems in schools, such as low literacy rates and crumbling infrastructure. I hope that people don't simply forget about education issues once their kids no longer have to wear masks to school, and begin to think about how we can make education better for all kids."

Some teachers cite student behavioral issues as contributing to their burnout, but most of the teachers I heard from held on in the classroom as long as they felt they could for their students' sake. After all, teachers generally go into teaching because they love kids and want to work with them.

“I never wanted to leave," an elementary school teacher from Washington who quit this year told me. "I cried with my students during my last week in the classroom. Their outpouring of love and understanding melted my heart. I had never felt so conflicted in a decision because I loved the students and my job.”

Between the pandemic throwing classroom teaching into chaos, parents and legislators dictating how and what teachers teach, and increasing assessments and top-down administration creating micromanagement issues, teachers feel like they aren't able to do the jobs they love and signed up for. They're not quitting because they hate teaching—they're quitting because they can't teach under these conditions. It's tragic, truly, and it's up to all of us to throw our support behind educators to stem the crisis a mass exodus of teachers will lead to.

This article originally appeared four years ago.

via KGW-TV / YouTube

NBC correspondent Maggie Vespa

One of the major differences between women and men is that women are often judged based on their looks rather than their character or abilities. "Men as well as women tend to establish the worth of individual women primarily by the way their body looks, research shows. We do not do this when we evaluate men," Naomi Ellemers Ph.D. wrote in Psychology Today.

Dr. Ellers believes that this tendency to judge a woman solely on her looks causes them to be seen as an object rather than a person. "As a result of focusing on their outwardly visible features, we are tempted to overlook their inner states, ignore markers of their intentions, beliefs, and desires, and less likely to empathize with their plight," Ellers continued.


Women in the spotlight are constantly being judged based on their looks rather than their performance in a given field. Serena Williams once won the French Open but all the press was about what she wore on the court.

For example, Hillary Clinton has been constantly being criticized throughout her political life for what she wore or her hair style rather than her accomplishments.

Maggie Vespa, a news anchor at KGW-TV in Portland, was criticized for how she dresses by a male viewer, so she brilliantly took the incident and used it as a way to talk about the double standards women face.

Maggie Vespa, Portland, NBC, Chicago, sexism, twitter, X The sexist message Maggie Vespa receivedTwitter

"Just wanted to let you know that the clothes you've been wearing, especially those crazy pants that ride half way up your torso, are not cool looking, in any way!," Jeffrey, a male viewer, wrote to Vespa on Facebook. You're way too pretty to look so foolish."

The next day, he sent her another message. "OMG, you really looked uncomfortably tonight. Try dressing like a normal woman. Doesn't KGW pay you enough for a wardrobe makeover?" Jeffrey wrote.

Maggie Vespa, Portland, Chicago, sexism, twitter, X Another sexist message sent to Maggie VespaTwitter

Vespa posted about the emails on social media and received hundreds of responses, so she carved out a few minutes to discuss the situation on the news.

"Let's just get this out of the way at the top. This is dumb," Vespa responded.

There was no way she was going to start dressing for the male gaze.

"These are my pants. I like them. I bought them."

Maggie went on to show photos of five different pairs of high-waisted pants that she wore in the week following Jeffrey's messages. Maggie's colleagues also got in on it, donning high-waisted pants to show their support.

Maggie Vespa, NBC, Portland, Chicago, Twitter, sexism Maggie Vespa in her previous newsroom via KGW-TV / YouTube

Vespa said the harassment "hit a nerve" with people on social media who used it as an opportunity to discuss "the pressure women obviously face, especially those in the public eye to embody the epitome of physical attractiveness at all times."

"If we don't, it's somehow seen as a sign that we're less credible or less capable and, by and large, guys don't have to deal with this," Vespa continued. " As my awesome male coworkers can and have attested to."

Vespa then brilliantly spun the harassment into an empowering message for women.

"Our goal here is to send a message, to women, to girls, to everyone: Dress how you want, look how you want, and if anybody tries to make you feel less than because of that, that's their problem, not yours," Vespa said.


This article originally appeared six years ago.