In the wake of the Black Lives Matter movement, racial injustice, and police brutality — we are thrown into a media frenzy where public figures, so-called intellectuals, and experts took the opportunity to inundate our minds with their highly politicized and ego-driven agendas. Although Coates is a regular contributor to The Atlantic, his voice is distinctive, cutting through the noise like the edge of a razor-sharp blade — this book is part memoir, part letter to his 15-year-old son and offers an unfiltered, vulnerable glimpse into the harsh reality of structural racism and the perpetuation of injustice in America (and the world) today.
In the early pages of the book, I was hit with the realization that Coates’ eloquence and vulnerability are what truly makes his writing prolific. Unlike the anguish and thinly veiled hatred of other African-American writers who try to unravel the blatant racial injustice and come to terms with a society that devalues their freedom, Coates establishes early on a framework for us to navigate the historical origins of racism with the modern effects within American (and sometimes global) societies and policies. He writes in the first few pages that —
Americans believe in the reality of “race” as a defined, indubitable feature of the natural world. Racism inevitably follows from this inalterable condition
Interestingly, Coates’ intention in writing this book was not another call to arms to urge future generations of African-Americans to believe that revolutionary change is possible. Rather, he emphasizes repeatedly the devastating permanence of racial injustice in America and the dangers of believing in the “American Dream”. He writes to his son in what would become a widely quoted passage:
Here is what I would like for you to know: In America, it is traditional to destroy the black body — it is heritage
At this point, you may be wondering why Coates isn’t using his rags-to-riches story (from being a black man raised in the streets of Baltimore who narrowly escaped street violence, police brutality, and prisons that were built to entrap him to a celebrated author and national correspondent at The Atlantic) to promote Black excellence and provide a beacon of hope for the younger generations. However, his past is the cornerstone of his ruminations on the reality for young African-Americans. His reflections on his childhood are simultaneously intriguing and heartbreakingly devastating, he recalls that gangs of young black men walked the blocks of Baltimore — loud and rude because it was only through this that they might feel any sense of security and power. He uses simple yet powerful examples of institutional racism, writing -
Those who failed in schools justified their destruction in the streets. The society could say that ‘he should have stayed in school’ and then wash it’s hands of him.
One of the highlights of this book (similar to Reni Eddo-Lodge’s “Why I’m no longer talking to white people about race”) is that Coates’ intended audience is his son, a young African-American man rather than pandering to the fragile white ego. Subsequently, the usual filtering, softening, and overall distortion that occurs automatically (even subconsciously) when people of colour try to discuss race with white people is absent. Coates informs his son in a matter-of-fact tone that -
The police departments of your country have been endowed with the authority to destroy your body. It does not matter if the destruction is the result of an unfortunate over-reaction. It does not matter if it originates in a misunderstanding. It does not matter if the destruction springs from a foolish policy.
Coates offers little hope or inspiration that freedom or equality will ever be more than a distant, impossible dream for black people in America. Although this may seem disheartening, it’s abundantly clear that Coates is a realist who understands the impenetrable, deep-rooted racism that has long since permeated every aspect of American society. The following passage nearly brought me to tears, Coates’ vulnerability reached it’s apex when he wrote —
We could not get out. The ground we walked was trip-wired. The air we breathed was toxic. The water stunted our growth. We could not get out…..Not being violent enough could cost me my body. Being too violent could cost me my body. We could not get out.
Reality is often confrontational and difficult to swallow, Coates’ writing is poetic and eloquent yet the underlying inequality is omnipresent. He seamlessly weaves the connection between the necessity of black girls and boys (and any person of colour) to be “twice as good” with the brutal consequences of being perceived as “bad”, educating his son that —
The price of error is higher for you than it is for your countrymen, and so that America might justify itself, the story of a black body’s destruction must always begin with his or her error, real or imagined.
Despite the discomfort and discrimination, Coates urges his son to continue to struggle — perhaps triumph is not the point and struggle is all we have. However, this is not despairing, as he wants his son to remember every morning when he wakes that “no promise is unbreakable, least of all the promise of waking up at all” because this is the preference of the universe itself: verbs over nouns, actions over states, struggle over hope.
If you are after a book that will spur people into action and provide hope for people of colour that things will get better — this is not the book for you. Coates is a realist, not an optimist. Nonetheless, his writing is deeply moving and holds a mirror up to American society to engage in a re-examination of the pervasive and intrinsically biased policies which are used against Black American bodies.
Coates doesn’t provide any answers as to the big questions on systemic racism and entrenched police brutality — he wants his son and the reader to instead wrestle with the questions on our own. This is the biggest gift that the book has offered me and I hope it can offer you the same — maybe this is not the time to be protesting, looting, and demanding equality; being the loudest voice in the room doesn’t guarantee a utopian future. Perhaps this is the time for questioning, searching and understanding the struggle so that we are better prepared for the uncertain future.
Coates is an acclaimed journalist and award-winning author but first and foremost, he is a father to a son who is facing a future where the system is set up for him to struggle. Whether you agree or disagree with his perspective, one of the greatest takeaways from his writing is being challenged in ways you didn’t expect or imagine.
