When I was little, my older sister and I would play with dolls. Complex and fantastical stories of elephants, castles and business executives would roll off her tongue in monologues and dialogues.
One day her wicked queen doll called my doll a slave. She went on, I never said a word, but the aura of power in her voice and diminishment of my doll was so complete and jarring that I never forgot.
From that moment, I've hated the thought of calling a person a "slave."
(PS. appreciate your respect and honesty. I just thought it would be interesting to include why a White woman who grew up in very White rural America is really feeling this. I am so relieved and celebrating that this particular language lesson is finally happening.)