
Black culture is the backbone of contemporary popular culture. It is also deeply embedded in the brand voice and marketing strategies of hundreds of companies across North America, often without accountability to the communities these expressions come from.
Black language, fashion, music, and aesthetics are frequent sites of cultural appropriation: the adoption of a marginalized culture by a dominant group without context, credit, or accountability for socioeconomic gain. Meanwhile, the communities that originated these cultural expressions continue to face stigma or punishment for using the very same language and styles.
While public awareness has grown around the harms of appropriating Black aesthetics, one of the most widely misunderstood and commodified aspects of Black culture remains its language.
Black American English (BAE), sometimes referred to as African American Vernacular English (AAVE), is more than slang or style. It is an authentic language variety shaped by history, resistance, and community. In workplaces and professional settings, dismissing or misusing BAE reinforces racial bias, while respecting it requires rethinking whose language is treated as “professional” and why.
BAE is a culturally rich language variety developed and spoken by Black communities in the United States (U.S.), with related but distinct Black English varieties in other regions. It has roots in African dialects and Caribbean Creole English.
While BAE and Black British English both emerged in response to racialized linguistic exclusion within white, colonial societies, they should not be conflated. Black British English has its own distinct development, with documented roots in Jamaican Patois, West African Creole languages, and localized Black British speech communities.
BAE should not be treated as a substandard version of “Standard English,” which is itself a socially constructed norm used in formal institutions such as schools, media, and workplaces.
As R.L. Trask writes, “Standard English is in no way intrinsically superior… it is not ‘more logical,’ ‘more grammatical,’ or ‘more expressive.’ It is, at the bottom, a convenience.”
In any culture, language is the basis for connecting and communicating ideas. It shapes a shared sense of community and identity. BAE linguistic patterns are part of a cultural legacy that traces back to the plantations of the American South, where enslaved people developed distinct ways of speaking as a means of survival, connection, and resistance under conditions of extreme control and surveillance.
Language is not perceived equally across social contexts. It can be used to empower, oppress, and marginalize. Being thoughtful about how language is used in professional and public settings is one way to avoid reinforcing existing inequities. Learn more in Feminuity’s Inclusive Language Guide.
Despite the persistent stigma that frames BAE as lacking professionalism or decorum, many Black people have embraced it as a symbol of cultural identity and resistance. At the same time, many non-Black people and media platforms have adopted BAE to appear relevant or relatable, often for social or financial gain.
Words and phrases such as “slay,” “lit,” “woke,” “bae,” “ratchet,” “sis,” “hella,” “deadass,” “on fleek,” “it’s giving,” and “turn up” have become common across social media, GIFs, and platforms like TikTok and other short-form and algorithm-driven content platforms. The use of Black cultural expressions for engagement without context or credit is not new.
Marcello Hernández’s recent SNL skit highlighted something brands rarely acknowledge: what’s often called “Gen Z speak” or “internet voice” is frequently Black American English rebranded for mass appeal. Language historically dismissed as “unprofessional” is also used to signal relevance and cultural fluency online, often while Black people continue to face real-world consequences for using it. This contradiction exposes how easily BAE is celebrated in marketing while remaining stigmatized in institutions. For brands, the issue isn’t adoption alone. It’s whether attribution, investment, and representation follow, ensuring the people who create culture also benefit from its value.
Beyond language, Black people are also notably overrepresented in reaction GIFs and image-based responses across digital platforms. While these images may seem harmless, repeatedly using Black people’s likeness to express emotion or humour can reinforce caricature and reduce lived experiences to entertainment. This includes the use of emojis that do not match a user’s skin tone, often referred to as digital Blackface.
In professional and digital spaces, from Slack messages to branded social content, these choices matter. The words we use and the images we select communicate whose expressions are seen as acceptable, humorous, or marketable.
Companies also frequently use BAE in advertising and marketing to appeal to younger audiences. When BAE is reduced to a branding tool or a trend, it is stripped of its cultural meaning and treated as a fad rather than a legitimate, living language. This reflects a broader pattern of profiting from Black culture while disconnecting it from the people who created it.
BAE is often criticized for sounding “unintelligible” and “unprofessional.” It has long been considered inferior to “Standard English.” This prejudice has led some Black people to be denied jobs and access to higher education for their use of BAE.
However, Black people aren’t speaking improperly when they use BAE. This belief is inherently anti-Black and can result in Black people feeling bad about their culture, internalizing racism, and code-switching.
Code-switching is commonly defined as “the alternation between two or more languages, dialects, or language registers in the course of a single conversation or exchange,” according to Glottopedia. Black people may code-switch between “Standard English” and BAE to appear “professional” by (anti-Black) Western standards, particularly in written communication, digital platforms, and AI-mediated workflows, and to avoid feeling denigrated for their language.
Code-switching is less of a preference and more of a method of survival in certain environments.
Indeed, Black people must regularly self-police their use of BAE to navigate daily life and remain safe. In contrast, when non-Black people use BAE or a “blaccent” to gain social relevance or achieve a certain level of desired success, they do so without facing the same societal, economic, or institutional consequences. A “blaccent” refers to the imitation of BAE speech patterns, often by non-Black people, to appear trendy or humorous. This form of linguistic appropriation reduces identity to performance.
Modern drag culture in the U.S., particularly as it appears in mainstream media, draws heavily from Black ballroom culture in New York City, and, sometimes, BAE is mistakenly labelled “gay slang.”
Terms like “yas queen,” “throwing shade,” “spill the tea,” and “voguing” were first used in the NYC drag scene, specifically in Black ballroom culture, but were later introduced to mainstream media through shows like RuPaul’s Drag Race, Pose, and Queer Eye.
There are many options in the GIF library that push the stereotype that Black women are “sassy” and “extravagant.” Ultimately, these images are relied upon to express fury, annoyance, shade, or celebratory moments. These representations are more than punchlines and reflect deeper design biases within digital platforms and algorithmic systems. In fact, when users search for "happier" GIFs, the common search results are non-Black people. Typically, users would have to specify when they want a Black person represented.
Non-Black people might consider the words they use to describe Black people that have become so normalized. We all need to be cognizant of what we share, how we communicate, and to what extent our digital footprint reinforces racial biases already present offline.
Language-based resistance is not limited to spoken or written forms. Black American Sign Language (BASL) is a distinct form of American Sign Language (ASL) that is used primarily by African Americans who are deaf or hard of hearing. It has its own unique grammatical structure, vocabulary, and cultural norms. Its emergence was primarily influenced by the racial segregation of schools in the American South, creating two language communities among deaf signers (Black and white). BASL is another demonstration of how Black people resisted oppression through language gatekeeping in segregated institutions. It allowed Black people to maintain their identity while protecting their communities and heritage.
As technology increasingly shapes communication norms, it is important to ask which language forms are prioritized and which are erased. People are both optimistic and wary about the potential of generative AI technologies like ChatGPT. Will these tools challenge existing power structures, or reinforce them? As workplaces rely more heavily on digital communication and automated systems, language bias has become easier to scale and harder to see.
While ChatGPT can read, analyze, and generate content in many languages, including BAE, “Standard English” remains the default. As AI tools are increasingly embedded in email drafting, performance feedback, hiring processes, and internal communications, these defaults quietly shape what is considered clear, professional, or acceptable at work.
Whether it appears in the interview room or in a company’s internal or external communications, BAE should be taken seriously in workplace decision-making, including hiring, performance evaluation, and the use of AI-supported communication tools.
For non-Black individuals, it is our responsibility to keep our biases in check and recognize how propping up Standard American English as the smartest and most professional language variety is part of a broader colonial hierarchy of language. We must also be conscious of the ways improper use of BAE can appropriate culture and reinforce harm. For people who craft professional communications meant to represent more than just themselves or speak on behalf of their company or a diverse team, these complexities must be handled with extra care.
When non-Black people use BAE, it feeds into appropriation that continues to harm Black people. Rather than exploiting or commodifying BAE, we should strive to create a society where all forms of language and expression are valued and respected.
Activist and educator Sierra Nicole Malbroux recommends that non-Black people ask themselves the following before using words originating from BAE.
By recognizing BAE as an authentic language variety, we can work toward environments where many cultures can coexist and be appreciated. When workplaces embrace diversity of language, practice, and thought with intention and care, fewer people feel shame or pressure to change how they express themselves to fit in.
This blog is not meant to be static, but rather a compilation and reflection of our learnings to date. Everything changes - from technologies and innovations to social norms, cultures, languages, and more. We’ll continue to update this blog with your feedback; email us at hello@feminuity.org with suggestions.
This blog was written collaboratively by members of the Feminuity team.
If you wish to reference this work, please use the following citation:
Feminuity. "Why Black American English Is Marketable, but Marked Unprofessional"