Donna-Michelle St. Bernard - Thought 8 - PRETTY

My name is Donna-Michelle St. Bernard and this is my eighth thought.  I rarely use the word "pretty" without irony.  It's like "nice."  Essentially positive but so banal as to be back-handed.   Lately I think it's curve-related: The air is so thick with hyperbole that if you're pretty, you're several levels below drop-dead gorgeous – so attractive that you could literally end someone's life, aesthetically.  And we don't even know what the top of that scale is yet, but pretty ain't it.  We've gone so high that pretty is about one up from plain.   I understand that language evolves.  I just don't like when words get taken away in bad faith.  Not over time, with usage, but in front of our eyes, with malice.  Which is happening. It's probably the thing I appreciate most about African American vernacular – a survivance tongue that can't be taken:  it's resistance to codification, it's improv-adeptness, both in creating and interpreting new configurations of old symbols, old syllables, the reuse of existing expression invested instantly with new meaning by context.  It's verdant, sprawling and variegated.  It's complex and alive, and I love it.  It's pretty.   (photo by Desmond Cole.  Sounds from zapsplat)