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A review by chapter92
The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett
5.0
This book had me feeling all the feels. Growing up in a white neighbourhood, in Italy where the majority of people are white, I understood, maybe for the first time, what it means to be black and discriminated. It broke me. How people can be so cruel and think that a person can be judged by the colour of their skin. White good. Black bad. How POC struggle to fit in, to merge in a society where there's no space for them, for the "different" and how they do whatever they can to change that.
This story is about two sisters, twins. Grown-up poor and with the fear of white men killing them - because that's exactly how their father died - they try to hide who they are, which is more than just the colour of their skin. But the thing is, they were lucky. They were lucky because if you didn't know, if you didn't look too closely, you would have thought they were white. But, as the book taught me, black is more than just a colour. Black is a whole life of tragedy and mistakes and prejudice and death. Black means fighting. Black means being proud and years of slavery and judgement. Black means strength and sadness and fear but most of all, black means resilience. Black is not different from white. They are not even colours if you think about it. So why is white better?
We grow up with the mith of a black man coming to get us in the middle of the night if we dont behave. And if we try to be different, to be outside the box society so strongly wants to put us, then we're the black sheep. Black. Always that word. Like it's a bad thing to wear the night's sky as a life-long shield.
The twins grow apart, one embracing her black lineage - with a black daughter - the other hiding her origins, passing for white - and with a white daughter. I couldn't explain how I deeply felt for them. Especially Desiree, looking for her twin her whole life, feeling that bond deep inside of her but without being able to reach it. And then the daughters casually meet and the circle of life makes its course.
This is a true masterpiece. The dialogues, the writing is like nothing else in the world. It whispers to you, making your bones wake and shaking, making you want to be a part of those words that stay with you, in your veins, tickling your skin, like something outside of this world. Like soft magic. Both black and white.
This story is about two sisters, twins. Grown-up poor and with the fear of white men killing them - because that's exactly how their father died - they try to hide who they are, which is more than just the colour of their skin. But the thing is, they were lucky. They were lucky because if you didn't know, if you didn't look too closely, you would have thought they were white. But, as the book taught me, black is more than just a colour. Black is a whole life of tragedy and mistakes and prejudice and death. Black means fighting. Black means being proud and years of slavery and judgement. Black means strength and sadness and fear but most of all, black means resilience. Black is not different from white. They are not even colours if you think about it. So why is white better?
We grow up with the mith of a black man coming to get us in the middle of the night if we dont behave. And if we try to be different, to be outside the box society so strongly wants to put us, then we're the black sheep. Black. Always that word. Like it's a bad thing to wear the night's sky as a life-long shield.
The twins grow apart, one embracing her black lineage - with a black daughter - the other hiding her origins, passing for white - and with a white daughter. I couldn't explain how I deeply felt for them. Especially Desiree, looking for her twin her whole life, feeling that bond deep inside of her but without being able to reach it. And then the daughters casually meet and the circle of life makes its course.
This is a true masterpiece. The dialogues, the writing is like nothing else in the world. It whispers to you, making your bones wake and shaking, making you want to be a part of those words that stay with you, in your veins, tickling your skin, like something outside of this world. Like soft magic. Both black and white.