Who Owns Slang? The Complexities of Linguistic Gentrification in the Digital Age

You’ve seen it happen in real-time. A word, a phrase, a certain cadence bubbles up from the vibrant corners of Black Twitter or a viral TikTok video. It’s fresh, it’s funny, it’s powerful. First, your coolest friend starts using it. Then, you see it in a Buzzfeed listicle. Before you know it, a fast-food chain is using it in a tweet to sell tacos, and a politician is awkwardly dropping it into a speech to seem relatable. The word has officially gone mainstream.

Words like slay, on fleek, periodt, spill the tea, and bae all share a similar journey. They were born within specific communities—overwhelmingly, from African-American Vernacular English (AAVE)—only to be picked up, polished, and repackaged for mass consumption. This process, where language is stripped of its cultural context and commodified by the dominant culture, has a name: linguistic gentrification.

It raises a complicated question: Who gets to own slang? And what happens when the language of a community becomes a trendy accessory for everyone else?

The Birthplace of “Cool”: AAVE is Not “Internet Slang”

Before we can talk about gentrification, we need to be clear about the source. Much of the slang that defines modern internet culture is not “Gen Z slang” or “TikTok speak.” It is, in fact, AAVE. African-American Vernacular English is not a collection of incorrect or lazy grammar; it is a legitimate, rule-governed dialect of English with a rich history rooted in the African-American experience.

Developed over centuries, AAVE has its own distinct phonology, grammar, and vocabulary. It has served as a powerful tool for identity, community-building, and sometimes, survival. Its linguistic innovations are often born from a unique cultural perspective, expressing ideas and emotions that standard English cannot capture with the same precision or flair. Terms like “throwing shade” aren’t just about insulting someone; they describe a specific art of delivering a subtle, elegantly crafted critique. “Woke,” before it became a political buzzword, was a call for social and racial consciousness within the Black community.

When these terms are lifted from their source, this entire history is flattened. They become just another piece of internet ephemera, their origins conveniently forgotten.

From Community to Commodity: The Digital Pipeline

Social media has put linguistic gentrification on steroids. Platforms like TikTok and Twitter act as a super-pipeline, accelerating the journey of a word from a specific community to the global mainstream in a matter of days. Black creators innovate, their content goes viral, and almost immediately, non-Black influencers and brands replicate it—often without credit.

The classic case study is “on fleek.” In 2014, Peaches Monroee posted a Vine video describing her eyebrows as “on fleek.” The clip exploded. Soon, the phrase was everywhere. Ariana Grande sang it, Kim Kardashian used it, and corporations like IHOP, Taco Bell, and Forever 21 plastered it across their marketing campaigns. But what did Peaches Monroee get? A brief flash of internet fame, but no royalties, no brand deals, no compensation for the millions in value she created. She was the originator, but she was written out of its financial and cultural legacy.

This is the core of linguistic gentrification: the extraction of cultural capital from a marginalized group for the benefit of the dominant one. Brands use AAVE to perform authenticity and connect with younger audiences, monetizing a culture they have no part in creating or sustaining.

Why It’s More Than Just “Borrowing Words”

Some might argue, “But language is always evolving! English borrows from everywhere!” This is true, but it misses the crucial element: power.

Linguistic gentrification mirrors urban gentrification. A powerful outside group “discovers” a neighborhood (or, in this case, a lexicon), sees its value, and moves in. The process drives up the perceived “worth” of the area, but it also displaces the original residents and erases the very culture that made it attractive in the first place.

The consequences are significant:

• Decontextualization: Words are stripped of their nuance. “Slay” becomes a generic term for doing something well, losing its specific cultural resonance within Black and LGBTQ+ ballroom culture. “The tea” becomes simple gossip, detached from its roots in Black queer communities.
• Erasure: The creators are forgotten. The language is misattributed to “stan culture” or simply “the internet,” erasing the Black people, particularly Black women and queer people, who are its primary innovators.
• A Harmful Double Standard: This is perhaps the most damaging aspect. A Black person using AAVE in a professional or academic setting may be judged as “uneducated,” “unprofessional,” or “ghetto.” Yet, a white person or a corporate brand using the same language is often seen as “cool,” “funny,” or “relevant.” The very same words are penalized in the mouths of their creators and celebrated in the mouths of outsiders.

Appreciation vs. Appropriation: How to Be a Better Linguistic Citizen

So, where is the line? No one is calling for language policing or suggesting that non-Black people can never use words that originate in AAVE. Language is fluid. The key lies in the distinction between appreciation and appropriation.

Appropriation is taking without understanding, context, or credit, often for personal gain (social capital or actual money). It’s performing a culture without respecting it.

Appreciation is about respect, credit, and understanding. It involves a willingness to listen and learn. Here’s how to practice it:

1. Listen and Learn: Before you adopt a new piece of slang, get curious. Where did it come from? What does it really mean? Following and listening to creators from the communities where this language originates is the first and most important step.
2. Give Credit Where It’s Due: If you’re a content creator or writer, credit the source. Acknowledge that a term comes from AAVE. Don’t let it be passed off as just “internet slang.”
3. Amplify, Don’t Co-opt: Instead of mimicking a trend started by a Black creator, use your platform to share and amplify their original content. Drive traffic to them, not a watered-down version of their work.
4. Check Your Context: Ask yourself why you’re using the word. Is it to make a quick joke? To sell a product? Is your usage reinforcing a stereotype? If you don’t understand the cultural weight of a word, it’s often best to sit back and listen.

Ultimately, the conversation about who owns slang isn’t about building walls around words. It’s about dismantling a system that repeatedly extracts culture from marginalized communities while penalizing them for it. It’s about ensuring that in our increasingly connected digital world, we move with awareness, respect, and a commitment to giving credit where it is profoundly and consistently due.