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A review by rbruehlman
Invisible Child: Poverty, Survival, and Hope in an American City by Andrea Elliott
5.0
Heartbreakingly sad.
Invisible Child follows the story of a young girl, Dasani, and her large family, who live trapped in poverty, homeless in New York City. Told over the course of eight years by a journalist who painstakingly recorded the tumultuous rollercoaster of their lives, the book exposes a heartwrenching look into the underbelly of New York City's dysfunctional social welfare systems and how difficult it is to grow up devastatingly poor, a hellish modern-day version of both Sisyphus and Prometheus.
Andrea Elliott's writing style is careful, measured. Dasani's parents aren't perfect; they abuse drugs, steal, verbally abuse their children. It would be easy to judge Dasani's mother for having eight children, or to criticize how she spent her money. But, tellingly, Elliott never does. She simply presents the facts as it is, impassionately, never judging or casting blame. While undoubtedly writing so intimately about a family that goes through hell and back for eight years must have made enmeshment with the family somewhat unavoidable, Elliott's writing feels like an outside observer, allowing Dasani's voice, and Chanel's voice, and that of others', shine through... never Elliott's own voice. Elliott could have easily made her book more political, railing against the inequities of the social system, injecting her own views, her own emotions, but she does not, because this is the story of Dasani's family. Masterfully, she has given them an independent platform by which to speak.
As for my own takeaways of the book ... firstly, I am horrified and angry. This is not a story of some family I will never know in Kentucky or South Africa or China. It is a story of a family that lives in the same city I do, leading an entirely separate, parallel life. And it isn't just Dasani's family doing so--it's thousands of people. People I pass by every day on my way to work, people who ride the train with me, people who work at the places I frequent. The squalor of Dasani's life opposite my own makes me feel horrible. And I am ashamed of my city; Dasani's parents at times made poor choices, but, truly, the villain in Invisible Child is New York City and its social services system. It is set up in a way to make people who have nothing fail. What on earth kind of policy requires a family to travel across boroughs to "log back in" if they miss returning to the shelter on time, causing children to miss school? Why could no one transfer the welfare benefits Chanel was receiving to Supreme when he had sole custody, plunging the family into poverty and hunger? I am not saying solving welfare is easy--it's not--but it nonetheless feels inhumane and inefficient. Surely we can do better.
On the other side of the coin, it struck me how hard it is to really break the cycle. Arguably, Dasani was handed a path out of poverty with a scholarship to Hershey. Yet she still fought, still railed against the system, still raged, and, eventually, got herself kicked out. The damage done by poverty was profound, instilling a world viewpoint and survival mechanisms that are hard to undo, even as they no longer serve a child. And, of course, Dasani did not exist in a vacuum--she was part of an entire family who was suffering. Giving her a golden opportunity to escape is noble and good, but of course a natural violent, guilty dissonance from her seemingly golden environment would erupt as the rest of Dasani's family descended into the hell of jail and the foster care system. To truly save Dasani's family, the entire family needed to be helped.
Perhaps, however, the same driver that caused Dasani to throw Hershey away is also the source of strength. Chanel and Supreme are deeply flawed people, robbing and stealing and using drugs. But at no point did I feel like they did not care about their children. They repeatedly made bad choices, but their heart, I felt, was in the right place. And, despite their abject poverty, the foster care system, it feels, did the family a grave disservice; the siblings cared for one another and glued one another together. It is hard not to argue that being split up caused Khaliq, Papa, and others to be come unmoored, searching for solidarity and love in the wrong places. The book ends on a high note as the family at least partially restores itself--the family may have been poor and dysfunctional, but they glued themselves together.
All in all, a harrowing read. I don't know what the solution is to a family like Dasani's, but I wish I did. The book ends with Dasani going to college; I hope she and her siblings are able to rise above and break the cycle, despite how hard the system seemed to try to keep them down.
Invisible Child follows the story of a young girl, Dasani, and her large family, who live trapped in poverty, homeless in New York City. Told over the course of eight years by a journalist who painstakingly recorded the tumultuous rollercoaster of their lives, the book exposes a heartwrenching look into the underbelly of New York City's dysfunctional social welfare systems and how difficult it is to grow up devastatingly poor, a hellish modern-day version of both Sisyphus and Prometheus.
Andrea Elliott's writing style is careful, measured. Dasani's parents aren't perfect; they abuse drugs, steal, verbally abuse their children. It would be easy to judge Dasani's mother for having eight children, or to criticize how she spent her money. But, tellingly, Elliott never does. She simply presents the facts as it is, impassionately, never judging or casting blame. While undoubtedly writing so intimately about a family that goes through hell and back for eight years must have made enmeshment with the family somewhat unavoidable, Elliott's writing feels like an outside observer, allowing Dasani's voice, and Chanel's voice, and that of others', shine through... never Elliott's own voice. Elliott could have easily made her book more political, railing against the inequities of the social system, injecting her own views, her own emotions, but she does not, because this is the story of Dasani's family. Masterfully, she has given them an independent platform by which to speak.
As for my own takeaways of the book ... firstly, I am horrified and angry. This is not a story of some family I will never know in Kentucky or South Africa or China. It is a story of a family that lives in the same city I do, leading an entirely separate, parallel life. And it isn't just Dasani's family doing so--it's thousands of people. People I pass by every day on my way to work, people who ride the train with me, people who work at the places I frequent. The squalor of Dasani's life opposite my own makes me feel horrible. And I am ashamed of my city; Dasani's parents at times made poor choices, but, truly, the villain in Invisible Child is New York City and its social services system. It is set up in a way to make people who have nothing fail. What on earth kind of policy requires a family to travel across boroughs to "log back in" if they miss returning to the shelter on time, causing children to miss school? Why could no one transfer the welfare benefits Chanel was receiving to Supreme when he had sole custody, plunging the family into poverty and hunger? I am not saying solving welfare is easy--it's not--but it nonetheless feels inhumane and inefficient. Surely we can do better.
On the other side of the coin, it struck me how hard it is to really break the cycle. Arguably, Dasani was handed a path out of poverty with a scholarship to Hershey. Yet she still fought, still railed against the system, still raged, and, eventually, got herself kicked out. The damage done by poverty was profound, instilling a world viewpoint and survival mechanisms that are hard to undo, even as they no longer serve a child. And, of course, Dasani did not exist in a vacuum--she was part of an entire family who was suffering. Giving her a golden opportunity to escape is noble and good, but of course a natural violent, guilty dissonance from her seemingly golden environment would erupt as the rest of Dasani's family descended into the hell of jail and the foster care system. To truly save Dasani's family, the entire family needed to be helped.
Perhaps, however, the same driver that caused Dasani to throw Hershey away is also the source of strength. Chanel and Supreme are deeply flawed people, robbing and stealing and using drugs. But at no point did I feel like they did not care about their children. They repeatedly made bad choices, but their heart, I felt, was in the right place. And, despite their abject poverty, the foster care system, it feels, did the family a grave disservice; the siblings cared for one another and glued one another together. It is hard not to argue that being split up caused Khaliq, Papa, and others to be come unmoored, searching for solidarity and love in the wrong places. The book ends on a high note as the family at least partially restores itself--the family may have been poor and dysfunctional, but they glued themselves together.
All in all, a harrowing read. I don't know what the solution is to a family like Dasani's, but I wish I did. The book ends with Dasani going to college; I hope she and her siblings are able to rise above and break the cycle, despite how hard the system seemed to try to keep them down.