The events of the last few weeks relating to racism, police brutality, and criminal justice have been horrifying; and yet, at the same time there’s something really uplifting about seeing so many people talking about racism and taking positive steps to do something about it. I have so much admiration for the people that are in the streets, risking their health and safety, to bring about positive change. It feels like people are starting to see that racism isn’t just a series of incidents, but systemic: that housing, employment, education, and criminal justice are all part of a system that elevates some people and oppresses others.
Since last week I’ve felt a combination of: (1) horrified by police actions; (2) optimistic and inspired; (3) guilty for not doing enough; (4) inspired to do more; and (5) thoughtful about what doing more actually means (for one example, see this list of 75 things you can do).
I’ve read quite a few articles, blog posts and tweets on the subject of reading about racism and anti-racism. There’s genuine interest in the subject, which is great, but also a fair amount of criticism. I realize that reading about racism is a luxury that white people have. I was struck by this recent Washington Post editorial with the headline, “When black people are in pain, white people just join book clubs.”
Definitely something to think about. Here are some of my thoughts (or the thoughts of others I’m hearing at this time):
- If we don’t read authors of color regularly, but suddenly we’re picking up books on anti-racism, that’s hypocritical (although maybe, it’s a place to start).
- If we think writers of color only write on the subject of race, that’s problematic.
- If we see authors of color as having a responsibility to enlighten white people about racism, that’s a problem.
- And if we fail to recognize that novels like Beloved or The Bluest Eye are not just books about racism, but are also amazing works of literary fiction, we’ve missed something really important (see this article in Vulture).
I admit, I’m a white person who’s terrified to talk about race because I’m sure I’ll say the wrong thing. A lot of these books that are so popular right now, like White Fragility, are clearly aimed at people like me. I mean well, but I know I have biases that are based on race, that I benefit from systemic racism, and that I perpetuate that system. I also know how much I don’t know about what others have experienced.
In 2016, I began tracking the number of books I read by authors of color. So far this year I’ve read 24 books by authors of color, out of 57. Nearly half, which is definitely growth, considering that before I started tracking I barely read any. Though I completely realize that congratulating myself for reading diversely is ridiculous when black people are being murdered in the streets and disproportionately dying from COVID.
If I read a bunch of books just to make myself feel better, I’ve failed. I get that. But I have to think that this sudden interest in reading about racism must be a good thing — because it’s one thing to talk about race, but another thing to read a really informative, thoughtful book by someone who knows what they’re talking about, like Bryan Stevenson’s Just Mercy or Ta Nehisi-Coates’ We Were Eight Years in Power. Reading helps us to make connections, to see the big picture, to understand that whatever ideas we internalized as children might not be right.
For example, I used to think civil rights in this country always moved on an upward slope, by which I mean that we get better over time. We went from slavery to the civil rights movement to a black president, right? But from many of the books I’ve read, I’ve seen a very different picture. Like how after emancipation, the criminal justice system found ways to put black people back into forced labor. Like how confederate memorials were erected not to honor war heroes but to remind black people of their oppression. Like how lynching increased after World War II because black men came home from military service feeling empowered.
I hope we’ll look back at this time and see that it was a turning point. I hope it means something that confederate statues are coming down and that institutions like NASCAR are banning confederate flags. I hope we’ll start, as a country, to connect the dots between our history and what is happening today. I know reading books is not enough. But I have to think it’s something.
For myself, I plan to come up with some concrete actions I can take to make things better, beginning with finding out more about my local police department. I already give to organizations like the Equal Justice Initiative, ACLU, and NAACP. I already vote. I’ll be thinking about other ways I can do something to address systemic racism in this country.
The writer in the Post, Tre Johnson, says this:
The right acknowledgment of black justice, humanity, freedom and happiness won’t be found in your book clubs, protest signs, chalk talks or organizational statements. It will be found in your earnest willingness to dismantle systems that stand in our way — be they at your job, in your social network, your neighborhood associations, your family or your home. It’s not just about amplifying our voices, it’s about investing in them and in our businesses, education, political representation, power, housing and art. It starts, also, with reflection on the harm you’ve probably caused in a black person’s life. It may have happened when you were 10, 16, 22, 36 or 42. Comforting as it may be to read and discuss the big questions about race and justice and America, making up for past wrongs means starting with the fact that you’ve done wrong in the past, perhaps without realizing it at the time: in the old workplace, neighborhood, classroom, softball field.
I’ll admit I’m not sure how to do some of the things he’s asking for. I don’t have clear answers. But I’m giving it a lot of thought, for what that’s worth.
