Happy Black History Month! Every year, the month of February invites us to celebrate Black culture, honor Black history, and keep doing the work of learning how that history shows up in our lives and in our professions. What better time than today for us to examine how history continues to shape whose voices society chooses to value and respect? What better moment than right now to discuss African American English (AAE) as the living history that it is?
Why Are We Talking About AAE?
Before diving in, it’s important to note that although many African American individuals speak African American English (AAE), not all do—and not all AAE speakers are African American. AAE is rule-governed and systematic: The large stigmas around this term should not distract from its legitimacy.
Communication sciences and disorders (CSD) students are trained to think critically about language, how it supports participation in everyday life, and how to evaluate communication through frameworks of effectiveness and function. Somewhere along the way, we’re also taught (whether implicitly or explicitly) that certain ways of speaking are more “correct” than others.
Historically, Black or African American students[1] have been overrepresented in special education, making up approximately one fifth of the special education population despite representing less than 15% of the general student population.
What Is “Effective” Communication and Language?
“Effective” communication simply means that needs are met and messages are understood. And here’s the part we don’t always say out loud: “Effective” is subjective. What works in one space may not be necessary—or even appropriate—in another. Consider the passage below that defines language—not just the term itself but also the broader concept—and explains its complex but integral role in history, society, and culture:
“Language is a complex and dynamic system of conventional symbols that is used in various modes for thought and communication. Contemporary views of human language hold that: (a) language evolves within specific historical, social, and cultural contexts; (b) language, as rule-governed behavior, is described by at least five parameters- phonologic, morphologic, syntactic, semantic, and pragmatic; (c) language learning and use are determined by the interaction of biological, cognitive, psychosocial, and environmental factors; and (d) effective use of language for communication requires a broad understanding of human interaction including such associated factors as nonverbal cues, motivation, and sociocultural roles.” (ASHA, 1983, p. 44)
In clinical and educational settings, Black language is often framed as a “difference” that must be measured against a “standard.”
But Black language is not a language difference: It’s language—period.
When we wrap bias in diagnostic terminology, we risk validating racist and ableist ideas under the guise of objectivity. As future clinicians, we need to ask ourselves: Who decides what “correct” sounds like, and who benefits from that decision?
What Is AAE?
African American English (AAE)[2] is not an idiosyncratic or careless way of speaking English. It is a systematic, rule-based dialect with its own grammatical structures, phonological patterns, and pragmatic norms.
Beyond having a set structure and firm rules, AAE carries with it culture and identity.
AAE is how many Black Americans communicate with one another, although it varies widely across states and regions. For example, someone who was raised in Oakland may sound different from someone who was raised in Atlanta or Chicago—just as regional variation exists in any other dialect of English. That variation doesn’t make the language itself any less valid.
Language is culture and identity. And, for many Black Americans, AAE is inseparable from both.
A Brief (and Incomplete) History
Whether you call this language AAE, or AAVE, or Ebonics (the name has changed over time), the origins remain connected. The African influence on the English language is often minimized, ignored, and ridiculed in academic spaces.
Although no single origin story exists for AAE, linguists have traced its development back to the forced displacement of enslaved Africans brought to the United States more than 400 years ago. During the 17th century, enslaved people were systematically forbidden to speak their native languages. This erasure of an entire language and culture was not accidental—it was a strategy of control that people and systems of power and privilege used as a means of preventing communication, organization, and resistance.
In response, enslaved Africans did what humans have always done when survival depends on it: They adapted.
A new way of speaking—a blending of English with African linguistic structures—emerged. Much of this communication was layered and coded. When so much of an enslaved person’s life was dictated, the ability to have agency over language mattered. Communication became one of the few spaces where control, resistance, and identity could exist.
Later, during the Jim Crow Era and the Great Migration, Black Americans relocated from the South to other regions of the United States, carrying their language and culture with them—and AAE evolved.
Examples of Rule-Based Features
One of the most persistent misconceptions about AAE is that it’s “bad grammar.” In reality, it follows consistent linguistic rules—just not the arbitrary ones that we’re used to in standardized English. Consider the four examples discussed in the subsections that follow.
Example 1: Verb Conjugation
For example, take verb conjugation: In AAE, verbs may shift from third-person singular to plural in ways that still preserve meaning and function:
- “She’s my friend.” → “She my friend.”
- “He doesn’t want it” → “He don’t want it.”
- “They are going to the store.” → “They going to the store.”
Notice how the message doesn’t change, and the function stays intact.
Example 2: The Habitual “Be”
AAE also uses the habitual “be,” which signals that something happens regularly and not just in the present moment. “She be working” doesn’t mean that she’s working right now; it means that she works often. That distinction doesn’t really exist in standardized English, but it does in several African languages.
There’s also metathesis, a linguistic process where sounds are rearranged within a word (for example, “ask” becoming “aks”). This feature exists across languages and dialects worldwide, yet it’s often singled out in AAE as evidence of error rather than difference.
Expressions like gonna, gon’, finna, and ’bouta also follow predictable patterns, as well as the use of opposites for emphasis— i.e. calling something “bad” with a positive intention/intonation — is not random. These patterns reflect intentional strategies of linguistic reappropriation rooted in cultural resilience.
Why This Matters for Us
As future clinicians, we will be asked to assess, diagnose, and intervene. When we lack knowledge of AAE, the risk of misdiagnosis increases— especially for Black children who are disproportionately labeled with language disorders.
Many clinicians want to do right by their clients, but without adequate training, difference gets mistaken for disorder. Therapy goals end up targeting dialectal features instead of functional communication. And over time, that contributes to the erasure of over 400 years of linguistic and cultural development.
One dialect is not more correct than another. Prioritizing one as the default reflects how arbitrary language standards can be. Many Black speakers navigate multiple dialects through code-switching, which is adjusting language based on context. This is a skill that is often confused as a deficit. Supporting bi-dialectalism should never mean teaching someone that their home language is inferior. Choice and agency matters!
The Work Ahead
Black History Month invites us to look back. Reckoning with the systems still shaping whose voices are valued and whose are dismissed is a long-winded road that will not be without its challenges.
For CSD students, knowing AAE is not optional, or some form of cultural trivia. Rather, it is cultural humility and ethical practice in action. If we’re serious about accountability, we have to be willing to unlearn, and stay curious.
Colorful, adaptive, and resistant— language lives in the diaspora, shaped by history and carried forward. Let’s honor that legacy by continuing to listen to, learn from, and center Black voices.
References
Hamilton, M.-B. (2021). Culturally responsive assessment for African American English-speaking students [Continuing Education Video]. SpeechPathology.com. https://www.speechpathology.com/slp-ceus/course/culturally-responsive-assessment-for-african-9949
International Center for Language Studies. (2024, April 30). African American Vernacular: Why it matters in language learning. https://www.icls.edu/blog/african-american-vernacular-why-it-matters-in-language-learning
Kelly, J. (2022, April 11). The misconceptions of AAVE. https://1956magazine.ua.edu/the-misconceptions-of-aave/
Nunnally, M. (2017, July 26). AAVE in literature: The bad, the good, and the great. BookRiot. https://bookriot.com/aave-in-literature-the-bad-the-good-and-the-great/
Scott, D. M. (n.d.). The origins of Black History Month. https://asalh.org/about-us/origins-of-black-history-month/
Wilson, S. (2012). African American English: Dialect mistaken as an articulation disorder. McNair Scholars Research Journal, 4(1), Article 11. https://commons.emich.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1044&context=mcnair
[1] Usage of “Black” or “African American” varies, depending on how each individual chooses to self-identify. For this reason, we use the phrase “Black or African American” throughout this article.
[2] Also referred to as African American Vernacular English (AAVE), Black American English, or Ebonics.