In my 21 years of existence I’ve been called almost every name under the sun. Some of the names were warranted, others are too foul to even mention in this blog post. Nevertheless, I always clung to what my Mom told me as a child: “it’s not what they call you, but what you respond to.” However, of all the monikers people have graciously or hatefully bestowed on me, the name that still makes my hair stand up on the back of my neck is “articulate”. Yes, “articulate”. Many of you are probably wondering why I have such qualms with a word that generally carries positive connotations. I’m glad you asked. To me being called “articulate”, especially by an elderly white person has always seemed to be very patronizing and demeaning. In fact, being called articulate at times seems oxymoronic, because those who call me this tend to be more surprised that I can put together a coherent sentence without stumbling over my words, rather than the eloquence of my oratory.