Between the World and Me

Though short, this book packs a punch to the gut. We're only a couple of weeks into 2016, and I can already tell that this book will be one I recommend over and over again throughout the year.

It's not an easy book to read. It's challenging not only in the style of writing and the diction, but also in the message. It's the type of book you will probably see paired with Orientalism or The Autobiography of Malcolm X in future college classes.

“What I wanted for you was to grow into consciousness.”
“‘Race' itself is just a restatement and retrenchment of the problem.”

Really damn powerful. The prose is calm and melodic, yet impassioned; the sentiment is powerful and disheartening and hopeful; and overall, the message is clear that the capital d “Dream” is a narrative that does not apply to black people in our country. Reading this felt like a dream, though; not just because of the beauty of the language, but because the struggles of the author and countless others are not my struggles. It feels like a world away, and while I'll never understand, reading this piece is certainly an exercise in trying. Absolutely recommend it, and I know I'll be reading more Ta-Nahisi Coates.

I've known about the author for quite a while now and have listened to his interviews and speeches, always leaving very impressed by what he had to say. When his first fiction novel The Water Dancer released recently, I decided I wanted to read his award winning prolific nonfiction works first, to truly experience his voice. And what a revelation this book is.

Falling just around 150 pages, this book in the form of letters to his son may feel small but the words it contains are profound, unapologetic, visceral, and give us a window into a world that we'll never truly understand because we have not been born Black and grown up in a country where our existence revolves around fear and survival right from our birth. As a reader with an outside perspective, this book is at times uncomfortable to read, but if one is open to listening to experiences that one has never had, then anyone reading this book will realize the inherent brutal truth behind the author's words. It is the truth of America's violent history and it's present, the truth that is the daily life of a whole community terrorized by the system that is supposed to protect its citizens, even when all of us with privilege can never fathom the toll of living like that.

The main audience for this book maybe the Black community, but I think it's far more important for everyone else to read it. We may never understand the fears of every Black parent who have to teach their sons how to survive from an unimaginably young age, but we all have the responsibility to learn about it and acknowledge our privilege and be an ally in whatever way possible. I say this as a brown woman who grew up with privilege in my own country, and while I do get terrified at a traffic stop in the US, I also understand that the so-called “model minority” myth might accord me some safety. This is a powerful book and I highly recommend it to anyone who wants to read more about the inescapable systems of oppression in the country.

My husband asked me what this book was about and I burst into tears. I cannot believe it took me this long to read this book. It took me a day- one because it's short and two because it is enthralling. He's a brilliant writer with a devastating and insightful store of life experience and intellect. This book is a blood letting. His fear for his young son, to whom he writes this, is palpable. His wisdom and rage both feel like living things. What a triumph.

What did I think? That's almost the wrong question. What did I feel seems like a better question. I feel tired and empty. This book was written, this book was published, the whole public conversation about this book has been completed and moved on from but wounds keep getting inflicted, new rending in the fabric of our sense of national selfhood. I have been reading Coates for nearly 10 years, and even the darkest of his writings in those years did not prepare me for the bleakness of the ending of this book.

It's my greatest hope that one day we will be able to read this as a cry of despair from a very poisonous moment in history, but I am a lot more hopeful than Ta-Nehisi Coates and I have nothing to stand upon except a faith in beauty and light.

Unless you've been living under a literary rock, you've heard of or better still even read the works of Ta-Nehisi Coates. A journalist/writer for The Atlantic, his longform essays on race relations in today's turbulent times are the perfect recipe for those trying to sift through the jingoism. His profound understanding of African-American history is a revelation for someone who didn't grow up here. Heck, I'm sure people who were even born here are aware of much of the sordid history of race and how it permeates American society to this day.

This book is a long open letter to his teenage son who reads and sees the troubling news today and gets distressed. Coates doesn't sugarcoat his words on how ‘his body' i.e. that of an African-American is not really in his control and is subject to abuse not by a racist cop but rather by institutions that've thrived on subjugation of minorities and adds that history has been replete with such injustices. Perhaps we hear about them more often now than before thanks to the tech social networks. He doesn't proffer violence as the solution but his tone is of resigned anger that has festered over years thanks to countless incidences of being unfairly profiled.

Coates talks about the other side of white privilege which any non-white person doesn't need any explaining. The norms that have been set that we constantly try to fight against are dictated by what is expected of you. I cannot imagine what it is to be a black man or a Muslim in America as much as a white person can't imagine what's it be to a brown person trying to board an airplane just to get home.

Be warned that parts of the book will make you angry. Very angry. But it also instills you in a finer understanding of the world around you and all you can hope is to make it a slightly better place. As Obama often says, we strive to make it a more perfect union. But I don't think we're there yet. Far from it, in fact. But someday.

Listening to one another's stories without judgement is the most powerful agent for change that we have within our grasp. His story is vastly different from mine and so this is an educational story. It is an emotional story.
I don't know that I can assume this is everyone's story, but it is his story and could be the story of others. It is clearly stated without a manipulation of emotion. It is honest in its assessment of self and place. He gives language to feelings and observations.
The only exception that I take is his language to discuss religion. He doesn't believe in anything and he doesn't have to, but his words take away from those who do. He doesn't leave room for other possibilities. This is a letter to his son and every parent wants to pass on their beliefs systems, so my reaction to those parts might be misplaced.

The Must Read of our Generation

Every couple of years, a book comes along that perfectly encapsulates the cultural issues of a generation. This is that book. It was one of the most powerful books I have ever read. It is a small book, but every sentence seems to pack its own punch.
Coates tackles the idea of race and racism in the wake of the recent public displays of police officers murdering black people. This book is brutally honest . It does not glorify black history, it does not speak of faith or the belief in equality. It tells you what it is like to be “them” in the Us vs. Them world of the United States. It tells you why a kid in an impoverished neighbourhood run by gangs doesn't see the value of learning French in school. It tells you why the author is not at all surprised to find that the officer who killed Trayvon Martin would not be charged and would receive a pension.
Perhaps the reason I found this so powerful was that because he was raised without religion, he does not look to God for answers or believe in an ultimate justice. Instead, he questions the “Dreamers” and wonders why Black people are taught to idolize nonviolence in a country founded on violent revolutions. His perspective is just so raw, so open and so clear, it is as if his consciousness is tangible.
I recommend this to literally everyone. I can only hope this becomes a book that everyone reads in school some day, because it is vital for every person. Whether you are a privileged white man like me or someone who for whatever reason feels like they're less than their peers, this book is crucial to understand the world we live in.

I don't have much to add that hasn't already been said here. It's a fantastic book, written by a fantastic man, about circumstances that shouldn't exist. I'm not the key demographic this book is aimed at, but I still walked away with something, even if that something is a vague sadness at how we ended up here at this point.

Written in the form of a letter to his 15 year old son, this book is about the author's experience and understanding of growing up and living as a black man in America. As such, reading it had the quality of listening in on a conversation I wouldn't otherwise have a chance to hear as a middle aged white lady.

Coates writes beautifully and thoughtfully about the grim subject of violence against black people throughout American history and comes to the conclusion that this is actually the tradition of America, built in from the start and taken as a birthright by those who “think they are white” and those who are aspiring to “the Dream” of upward mobility, a nice home in the suburbs and an unlimited stream of material belongings. He doesn't offer any solutions, other than clear-eyed, undeluded struggle, yet this book comes across as a very kind, loving communication from father to son.

The blurb on the front of my copy says, “‘This is required reading.' – Toni Morrison.” I agree. Let all with eyes to see, read.