I'm Still Here

I had some lightbulb moments while reading this - it definitely has some important things to say. As a white woman I was particularly struck by the author's description of two different white high school teachers who were trying to be allies - one of them had a positive impact on her but the other ended up causing harm (because of white guilt). The only reason I'm giving it 4 stars instead of 5 is because it is very much written from an evangelical Christian perspective for other evangelical Christians and for that reason I'm likely to recommend/gift other books on race to my friends and family, who mostly come from other religious backgrounds.

This one is kinda touchy to review, so right off the bat, I want to point out that I did like aspects of this book and think it will have value to a lot of people. It was quite short though, and so the things that didn't work for me detracted more because it was a larger part of a short book. Some of the things that didn't mesh with me are just entirely because of me, not the author, so others will likely not have issues with those parts. A few things the author wrote I did have problems with, however.

What I didn't like, because of me:
-I've read a fair amount of books on the black experience already, so a lot of her personal experiences are repetitive. This is obviously not her fault at all, but the relevatory factors of “oh wow, I can't believe she was treated that way” was just not there. Because a large part of this book was relaying those experiences, a part of me was just like, “yep, not surprised” over and over.
-My big blind spot in terms of “things I care about” is the Christian Church. This is entirely on me. Whenever people talk about their church experiences, my eyes glaze over. A lot of this book dealt with her interactions with church, so inherently I was less enthused.


Things I didn't like, related to the author's writings:
- Over generalization of white people. This one is tough, and inb4 people tell me to read White Fragility, that wasn't the problem. The vast majority of what she said I agree with. And she DID sometimes use qualifiers like “white people usually” or “most white people”. I don't feel attacked or defensive. I just think her point would be better made if she didn't resort to weird levels of generalizations. “White people want to turn everything into a debate, and black people don't usually have the time or energy to educate them”. I understand and agree that the main point here is “don't expect black people to educate you on what you're doing wrong”. I can only imagine the levels of exhaustion it would bring to have all the white people around you trying to debate racism. But the people she's describing are just doing asshole things, not white things. I love debating about lots of things, and am one of those people who thinks discourse is the way forward for most issues, but I also recognize most people are usually NOT in the mood for a debate, especially a debate thrust upon them. Not just about race, about anything. So when I want to debate about something, I take social cues and back off if the other person isn't receptive. I don't think that makes me special; it just makes me considerate of how other people are feeling. People who don't do this are being asses, or self-centered, or oblivious, or obnoxious, but not “white”.
That's just one example, because it's near the end of the book. Another time, she mentions how white murderers are treated like people who made a mistake and black drug dealers are treated like sub human. I agree that black criminals are treated abhorrently, but I'm just not sure where she's getting that white murderers are not also villainized. I'll chalk this one up to different life experiences.
-At the beginning of the book, she talks about how upset people get when they expect her to be a white man based on her name. But then she gave a bunch of examples where people were just mildly confused. Names are signifiers, that's just the way names work. There's no law saying you have to follow them, but names do give certain expectations. If she was still discriminated against because of her name, that'd be one thing. But I would absolutely be unsure if I had a meeting with someone named Austin, and a black woman was sitting in the lobby. I would also be confused if I had a meeting with a person named Fatima and it was a white man, or if I had a meeting with a person named Sangmin and it was a white woman. But then I would adjust after a brief moment of confusion? This was SUCH a weird thing to start your book on, it makes her seem like she has a chip on her shoulder about something really asinine.

But that was a lot of writing that makes it seem like I really disliked this book, and I didn't. The things she discusses are absolutely things that people need to hear, and I particularly liked the parts about her dealing with cousin being in jail, as well her experiences in school with good and bad teachers, and also about “nice white people”, because man, do I know a lot of those, and I'm sure I've been one at some point in my life too. I just can't believe so many people come up to her and look to her for absolution for their racist pasts. I would lose it. But I guess that's the point, isn't it? She can't lose it. She has to deal with it, simply because white people can't manage their own guilt.

2.5/5 stars, but I probably would have given a higher rating if I had read it a few years ago.

This book speaks of moving forward regardless of overwhelming despondency. This is another book that highlights my complete lack of experience in the hopelessness of being black in white supremacist America. The author says, “Perfection is demanded of Blackness before mercy or grace.” Why is it so much easier for black individuals to call out their own minute privileges than it is for white people to call out their many? Every black author I have read that has described any part of their existence in blackness has added a disclaimer of how their life has been privileged in some way. And I know they aren't qualifying this for their black readers, because their black readers aren't expecting them to have checked off a certain amount of disadvantage to be black enough to speak on their experience. This book is in the same category of necessary reading as Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates. While the experience of racism is similar between these books, the female vs. male, and Christian vs. atheist perspectives make them equally necessary in my opinion. Regardless of your worldview and religion, black lives matter and representation in positions of power matter. Read this.

Short Review: Read it!

Slightly longer review: I'm Still Here is a memoir about the experience of a Black Woman within predominately White cultural spaces. She grew up in mostly White neighborhoods, going to mostly White schools. She didn't have her first Black teacher until college. She has mostly worked for Christian non-profits that were also mostly white. But being saturated in White culture does not change her appearance or make those that are inclined to judge her based on her gender and skin color any less likely to judge her.

Part of what has been assumed by many is that if we just get kids a good education and help them ‘speak white' or even give them White sounding names as Austin's parents intentionally did, that integration will be made easier. But Austin is here to say, racism is still real.

This is a book that needs to be read. Not just by Black Women, although I think that is the primary audience, but by everyone else that is not a Black Woman because those of us that are not Black Women need to hear what a Black woman is saying about the work it takes to be a Black woman in the world.

This is not a ‘everything is going to be all right because of Jesus' book. This is a ‘Jesus may be in charge, but sin is real' book.

My full review is on my blog at http://bookwi.se/im-still-here/

If you are white, this book is going to make you feel very uncomfortable - and that's why you should read it. With the most gorgeous prose, Austin Channing Brown writes her story of growing up black in an America tailored for whiteness. This book will teach you and convict you in the same line. Channing Brown is not here to make anyone feel good - she is here to call us, all of us, to action. This is a powerful new voice that deserves to be heard.

A very quick little book that packs some big wallops. I have done a lot of learning about the work of anti-racism in the last few years, but never from this particular perspective (from a Black author within the community church). I definitely think the strongest parts are about Channing Brown's childhood, the lessons she takes from her parents and cousin about her own Blackness, and how her faith and work is affected by white people within her church and community spaces. I really appreciated the bluntness of her descriptions of walking through her day as an organizer, the microaggressions she experiences and what meaning she takes away from each of those interactions, and how those messages wear down her spirit. And of course, conversations within the church about white feelings/fragility, reparations, and whether or not it's realistic for the Black community to have hope for a better future.

(In glancing through reviews of this book, it seems there's still a lot of learning that we white people need to do in order to make hope a realistic outcome from these conversations.)

I think this is a great companion to similar anti-racism books, as Channing Brown includes a breadth of topics but doesn't particularly delve too deeply. So You Want to Talk About Race and White Fragility are good starter books for some of those topics, and White Awake was decent at looking at the evangelical church through a white lens (though note that the latter two books are written by white authors).

The audio was read by the author, and it was excellent. 3.5 stars.