Thanks so much for the conversation last week, everyone. If you’re following along and have something you’d like to contribute to the conversation — a question, a viewpoint, an idea — but you’re not feeling comfortable about sharing it, please hang in there with us. You are welcome here.
I’ve been trying to figure out what sort of letter I would write to my son. I think that’s part of the beauty and the genius of this book. I think the fact that it’s a letter from a father to a son makes the content more accessible. So I’ve been wondering what I’d say to my son that I haven’t already said.
My son is twenty-seven years old. He lives in New York, on his own, making his way in the world. But, when he started driving, I told him how to respond if he was ever stopped by the police. I told him about the need to be extra vigilant when hanging out with his friends, and how the dynamics change with the racial makeup of that group of friends.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m overreacting. But then I remember that I taught my son to wear a helmet when he rode his bike and to buckle his seatbelt when he drives. Because accidents happen. They are real. And so is racism.
I wanted my child equipped to deal with both.
Growing up black or brown or anything other than white in America is not the same as growing up white.
It’s true that everything is compounded (or confounded) by ZIP codes and education and financial stability (or the lack thereof). But, when we account for all these things, what do we do when our neighbor, who has a doctorate in theology, but whose skin happens to be brown, tells us about being detained by the police after walking past and saying, “Good evening, officer,”? How do we respond when the “N-word” is spray painted on the side of the downtown church?
We’ll be moving on to Part Two of the book next week, but I wanted to pause here, at the end of Part One to consider the word, “responsibility.” The very last page of Part One (page 71) is heavy with the concept and I wondered how you felt about the words written there. What does it mean to be responsible for and responsible to? And what does that mean about how we respond to injustices like racism? How do justice and reconciliation relate to one another? Do you need both?
Tell us what questions you have, here at the end of Part One. You can share your questions in the comments or, look for my chat, later today on Periscope. Let’s meet back here next week, to discuss Part Two.
Catch the recorded Periscope chat, here.
Thank you. I probably would have never picked this book to read. It is making me think. The fear one has when walking about concerning the harm that may come to them or the fear to ask a question because of their color.
I almost didn’t read it, either. But I’m glad I did. And, I’m glad you’re reading with us!
What’s bothering me in this book is what you love–that this is written as a letter to his son. It seems to be a letter of hopelessness. You said in an earlier comment that he was casting all his hope on his son, and I agree, and that terrifies me for this young man.
When I watched the “Black-ish” episode, I wondered if this is a father vs. mother thing, that fathers want to tell it straight and help prepare their kids for the cold, cruel world, and mothers want to protect and offer hope. That was the dynamic between Dre and Bow.
I think that you as a mother, in the situations you described above with your son, you modeled the perfect balance of hope and wise counsel.
Part of the beauty of that episode of “Black-ish” was that it showed the diversity of thought and experience, within the black community. I don’t know if it’s as much a difference between mothers and fathers, as much as it’s a result of personal experience and context. In that episode of “Black-ish” each character saw the situation through eyes that reflected their gender, their generation, their socio-economic and educational status, and their personal experiences. I think so much of the interpretation of popular culture often misses that diversity, and tends to paint the black experience as one-dimensional.
With BTWAM, we’re getting one perspective. It’s true that Coates is not the only one who sees the world this way. I have had similar conversations with people I love very much.
My experience of parenting is offered as a way of saying, “This is the reality for people of color. This is a dimension of parenting that we cannot afford to overlook or to skip over. Not yet.” I don’t know if it was wise. I mean, as parents, we also said, “Every time you leave this house, you represent the Riggs’.” That’s a lot to put on a child, too. 🙂
Which Black-ish episode, again?
It’s called, “Hope.” http://abc.go.com/shows/blackish
Here’s something interesting about that episode: all the foods they reject in trying to decide on a restaurant are ethnic. No Indian. No Chinese. No sushi. And grandma, going into siege mode, nixes their default, Mexican(-ish). What does she serve? White rice, about as white and bland as food can get.
I guess I just didn’t expect for this to touch on issues with my own son, which are not Coates’ issues at all. My veil, so to speak.
please don’t reply.
I hear where you’re coming from and as a letter to his son, it does seem like a heavy burden to bear. That said, Coates has said in numerous interviews about BTWAM, that the “letter” form was more of a literary construct to get a message across than an actual letter because having grown up in the Coates family, his son already knew everything the book addresses. None of this is new information to him. Growing up a person of color will affect the way you parent just like so many other things. It will affect the way your children see the world and the way they experience themselves in it. I totally get that that in itself seems filled with despair when reading Coates but like Deidra said, this is the context he lives with. The understanding that his son’s black body is not safe in the world and could be taken from him at any time without apology or reason.
Thank you. I’m not sure hearing that the letter format is just a construct helps me, but I’ll keep it in mind during our discussion.
I am a bit hesitant to join the discussion because it seems to me that most of the comments thus far fall into the “I love this book” camp. I don’t love this book, although I’m sure reading it is the right thing to do.
Deidra, I appreciate and respect the points you made in today’s post. It is hard to send our children into a world that is going to classify and stereotype them. Your words to your son have been prudent and wise. I know that it is true that if your children are not white, they are in for a much more challenging life in this country. That is just wrong, and certainly is something that we as Christ followers should be actively addressing.
I am surprised that Forward went from reading The Yada Yada Prayer Group to Between the World and Me. It feels like we have gone wrap speed into the conversation, and frankly, this book feels like a slap in the face. The thing that bothers me the most is that I don’t feel like it invites conversation at all. Since he lacks a faith viewpoint, I often feel like Mr. Coates is inaccessible to me. I feel like the book doesn’t have any hope, which is certainly true of our world without God. At many points, it is simply making me very sad.
For now, I will limit my observations to the last page of Part 1. First, the birth of a better world is ultimately up to God. As his people, we need to be moving at his command toward other people of all colors. Period. We are all responsible not only for our bodies, but for our minds, our hearts, our words and our actions. Often, maybe usually, they will fall short, and we have to go to our Lord in humble, hungry need for him to lift us up and change our hearts and set us back on his paths. We screw up, a lot, and we are certainly responsible for each time we do it.
However, I take exception to this, “Indeed, you must be responsible for the worst actions of other black bodies, which, somehow, will always be assigned to you.” (p.71). How is this different from the tone of the book, which insists that everyone who “believe that they are white” is responsible for the worst actions of other white bodies?
Racism is a real and present evil. We should all be working to engage others with curiosity and respect, and with an awe that they are, each and every one, a vessel into which the image of God has been deposited. This is our “responsibility to”, and it is to God himself, the author of humanity of all skin and eye hue. Without a worldview that centers on God’s redemptive plan, no reconciliation ultimately works. There will always be someone, “…at the bottom, a human turned to object, object turned to pariah…” (p. 55). I was hopeful when I encountered this sentiment by Mr. Coates, but then it once again digressed into dumping us all into camps.
I continue to read, but so far, I don’t see how this book is moving the conversation forward.
Hi, Tara! I’m so grateful that you’ve added your thoughts to the conversation. Thank you! I appreciate your disappointment (is that the right word?) with the book. When we first began our conversation on this blog about starting a book club, and then I asked for recommendations from readers of books to read, I was excited about the vast diversity in the books recommended. Everything from The Yada Yada Prayer Group, to Between the World and Me (BTWAM). When I boiled it down to three books to vote for as the first one we’d read together, I chose Yada Yada, The House on Mango Street, and BTWAM. The votes were so close! In fact, they were tied for many many days. Then, right at the end of the voting, Yada Yada emerged as the clear preference.
After we read Yada Yada together, the feedback I received in the survey indicated a desire to go much deeper in our discussion and our reading. And so, here we are, reading BTWAM. I knew it would be a notable departure from the first book we read. So sorry the book has been difficult for you. But I’m also very grateful for what you’ve shared about your experience while reading. I do hope you’ll hang in there with us to the end.
So, here’s what I’m hoping: I hope that, after reading this book, we will be able to approach people like Ta-Nehisi with compassion, knowing the way he and others like him experience the world. I hope we’ll be able to take a posture of, “Yes, and…” when we encounter people whose perspective makes us sad, so that our own understanding is expanded; so that our prayer life becomes informed by people like Coates and his son and his parents. Rabbi Jonathan Sachs says that we are enlarged by people who are different from us. I believe that. And, I believe that expansiveness — in our faith, our perception, our hope — is what helps move the conversation forward.
I hope that makes sense?
Here’s the podcast where Jonathan Sachs and Krista Tippett talk about his book, The Dignity of Difference: [soundcloud url=”https://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/230659771″ params=”auto_play=true&color=00acd6″ width=”100%” height=”166″ iframe=”true” /]
Tara….. I so appreciate you for taking time to join in on the conversation and while I understand your statements of this not moving the conversation forward, I would like to point out that your choice to join in does exactly that: move the conversation forward. I applaud Coates’ for allowing the private conversations that occur between black fathers and their black sons to be brought to the forefront. This is just one example of a letter from one father to one son, coming from Coates’ view from life as he has experienced. I am often reminded that in life, we all have our truths we dearly hold onto based on what directly happens to us. As I stated last week, I am aware that there are no absolutes because seasons in our lives cause us to act and react differently out of immaturity vs. maturity; being unaware vs. becoming acutely enlightened and not experiencing an event vs. being the participant or observer of incidences.
We are able to learn from the truths that individuals carry to gain an understanding of how their truths evolved out of the reality of the unbalances existing in our world as we witness the activities during Trump rallies and other situations that completely baffle me. While we know that God is able to do exceedingly and abundantly all that He chooses to do or not do, there are individuals who are unable to process the abstract concept of faith and a God they cannot visibly see. This causes us to be moved to the action of love. Coates’ transparency of his unbelief should give us an opportunity to seek God’s guidance on how to be more vocal in supporting what is right out of the human need to be seen, valued and heard from the point of view of the camp in which we find ourselves. I hope you are able to see how all discussion helps to move the conversation forward because it gives us space to talk and not avoid controversial and challenging topics. Keep adding your input Tara. Healthy conversation moves us forward because it allows us to experience points of view from each other’s truths and aids in solidifying our relationship with the God who created us all and learning how to walk in grace and prayer.
This will probably be long winded. Sorry in advance. I think justice and reconciliation absolutely go together, and the ideal situation would be to have both. On earth as it is in Heaven should be the goal, and Heaven will not be a racist place. Forgiveness can happen before someone apologizes, but that is not justice. Justice is seeking to make it right; I believe that when more of us want to step into the conversation and truly work to make things right, we’ll be moving closer to justice. As always, it will be messy with lots of missteps along the way, but it’s a start. Like many have commented, I also caught Coates’ hopeless tone due to the fact that he is not a believer and the fact that at times he seems to believe all chances of reconciliation and justice have passed. I appreciate Coates’ voice so much. After reading this book I grabbed the audio book and am having my husband listen to it in the car on his way to work. I think his words and thoughts are so important. However, as believers we have hope. Coates’ view of this situation being irreconcilable does not have to be our view because we serve a big God who does impossible things. And to be fair, I can understand how Coates’ would view justice and reconciliation as impossible. We have a presidential nominee who is supported by white supremacist groups, and he is winning. Without God, why would you have faith in people after all we’ve seen?
“We have a presidential nominee who is supported by white supremacist groups, and he is winning. “… and I would add, “with the help of a large portion of white evangelicals!” That’s the most disheartening part.
Also– I can understand why an unbeliever would not have hope in Christianity as it relates to racial reconciliation. The Bible has been used to enslave, oppress and keep the narrative or racial difference alive. The Church in this country has not been a credible witness. It has been an ally to oppression.
Delina, You are right about all of this. I have read articles about how many people who are identifying as evangelicals are a misguided embarrassment, which is true. However, people hear “white evangelical” and then hear about support for racist leaders, and that idea sticks in people’s minds. I know absolutely no one who is supporting this candidate, so this whole situation blows my mind. And yes, the Bible has been twisted cruelly over the years to justify horrid behavior. In fact, it still is in many cases. “Ally to oppression”…I couldn’t have said it better.
I was also thinking about the Yada Yada book as I was reading the rest of Part 1. My thoughts were a little different. At the beginning of the Yada Yada book I was a little disappointed going in because I thought it was going to be too touchy feeling and prone to be sensitive to what I now see as “those that believe themselves to be white” since the main character since she was white and was the author. In the end I was encouraged by the group’s openness with her. I have had BTWAM for a while and feel that every time I read a page I need to reread it a thousand times before I might start to understand. I thought that I was ready for this type of book in the beginning, but I think the Yada Yada book helped me be more aware of myself and my lens going into BTWAM. This book is such a hard but necessary read. And it is making me realize things and ask questions I didn’t realize I needed to ask before. And I enjoy the way it is written as a letter to his son, I just enjoy the change in style. It makes me think about things I’ve taken for granted, things I’ve assumed about others as a mass instead of individuals. About the way I’ve been taught to understand life and history and how to question it now. Coates’ openness as he spoke about his ignorance of his gf that returned from India and the way we frame the way we see and understand things based on our experiences, and what we’ve been told to understand about history.
And oh how he speaks of “the Dream thrives on generalization” isn’t that our world today? Isn’t that’s what is going on with the presidential debates?
I appreciate that Coates is not speaking from a Christian perspective because that is our world, and I find it hard enough and am self conscious enough to talk with black Christian sisters about race; let alone trying to talk to non-Christian friends. I’m afraid to say the wrong thing, or maybe it is pride. But I want to learn more and understand. I don’t want to be naive. And I appreciate the directness Coates uses in his book. I need it. And it makes me want to yell “Let’s go rewrite the history books! Let’s celebrate each other!” And more.
It is striking up a lot of thoughts and questions in me, and I’m thankful for this Forward conversation. (sorry, got long winded!)
This fact is one I don’t want to forget:
“Never forget that we were enslaved in this country longer than we have been free. Never forget that for 250 years black people were born into chains—whole generations followed by more generations who knew nothing but chains.” p 70
To me, these statements remind us that the sin of racism is settled deep into our country. And even though *we* may think “it’s not that way anymore!”, the past has such deep roots that the tree still grows in distorted directions. We’re still bearing bad fruit. It will take a long time for bad attitudes to be erased, generation after generation still yet. That makes me sad, but not hopeless. I absolutely love that we’re talking about it far more openly than I ever remember in my life. While the conversations may not always seem helpful, at least they’re taking place, and God can use them to grow us in positive directions. Thanks for keeping the conversations fresh, Deidra!
Lisa, Those words stuck with me as well, and I think the comparison you make to a tree with deep roots and bad fruit is perfect. So much of what I heard in school and in life in general is that racism is over, slavery is over, segregation has ended. No one talked about the long term issues that continue to plague this country because of the horrifying fact that black people have been slaves in this country longer than they have been free. I, like you, am glad we’re talking about it now.
Well said, Kristy! Part of that history is over, but the results of it continue on, and it’s not over until we face up to the after-effects too.
Yes, it is Lisa. To me, it has been carried from generation to generation. Racism is learned early from parents and other adults. I have talked with my children about it, but it begins with me. They watch what I say and do.
True, Jo Anne. Kids mimic our attitudes and actions. (Well, adults sometimes do too!) May we all do better ourselves and let it ripple down.
You have asked some BIG questions and good ones. I’m glad you did not feel rushed to hurry past them. Not that I have answers, but the questions are excellent. I reread the passage on page 71 and I played around with writing a response, but in the end I don’t think I have anything of value to add this week.
I am glad to have read the book. I think, though, that it has exerted a pressure and I’ve carried the weight of it with me these last couple of weeks. That’s okay. I do not regret reading it.
As for the connection btw justice and reconciliation, I don’t think there can be reconciliation without justice, but what constitutes justice? That answer lies within those who have suffered injury, which, as we are seeing, covers a broad range of perspectives. What happens when there is no making up for the wrong that was done? We are facing this question in our family right now. Reconciliation happens for some and not others. It all depends on what the injured party demands as justice. For some, acknowledgement is enough. For others, there is nothing that will ever satisfy enough for reconciliation to be possible. Showing up for the conversation is a big part, if there is to be hope.
Thanks for this, Marilyn. This was a great reminder: “That answer lies within those who have suffered injury, which, as we are seeing, covers a broad range of perspectives.” I’m reading Christina Cleveland’s book Disunity in Christ and in chapter 3 she talks about the term “cognitive miser”–our brains’ desire to categorize (and lump people together) so that our mental function is less taxing. I definitely am prone to doing that even when I think I’m not.
This book continues to serve as a reminder of how deeply I used to delve into racial issues, and makes me evaluate why that has changed. And I am constantly saddened by Coates’ lack of hope in Jesus.