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A review by jdintr
Just Us: An American Conversation by Claudia Rankine
3.0
America needs racial justice. I believe that with all my heart, and I try to back that principle up with my actions (as a teacher, a Christian, a partner in community enterprises).
I also commit my brain to endorsing racial justice by seeking out Black voices. I take the voices I read, like Isabel Wilkerson and Tanehisi Coates, and I put them right into my curriculum at school. I'm not surprised by the seismic cultural changes, and I don't want this generation to be surprised either.
And yet, despite my commitment to racial justice, people treat me--a white, Christian, male, cisgender Southerner--like I just put took off a red MAGA hat before endorsing their perspective. On Twitter, I was blocked by an African-American author whom I had promoted and taught in my classroom. I lost a contract when a comment was misconstrued as racist. My own child took me to task this summer for my initial reaction to her boyfriend--a man of a different race--explaining in painfully elementary terms the words that I should and shouldn't say about him or in his presence.
Now if you're still reading this review, by now, I'm sure you're wondering, "Dear James, this should be a review of Just Us, not about you.
You might look in my closet for that MEGA hat. (I don't own one. It's sad that I need to put this in writing.)
But here's the point: the book, Just Us IS about me. It's more about me than about any other topic. That's because Rankine is obsessed about White Privilege, and her book connects the dots between random conversations she has with strangers who may or may not realize how clueless they are--who may or may not be hiding a MAGA hat in their carry-on bags.
That's not to say that her book isn't good. It is. Full of unique insights and meaningful connections. It just feels like they are darts aimed at the same square centimeter of the dart board. If readers are looking for more evidence of white malfeasance, they will find it here. If they themselves are white, they will get an earful.
One good example is an exchange Rankine shares with a colleague who had studied white attitudes about the seismic changes I mentioned above:
What about me? If I had a misconstrued stereotype of my whiteness and maleness, they were exploded by reading. I was never the same after the spring of 1992 when I read The Autobiography of Malcolm X and Native Son, and they were obliterated by the horrible injustice that led to the LA riots two months later.
For a reader like me, who considers himself liberal but who is consistently mis-branded because of my race, faith, and gender, there wasn't a lot new in Just Us . The "American Conversation" of the subtitle felt more like a diatribe.
But I did enjoy the book. Rankine's use of multimedia--and her reference to interesting artists whom I looked up as I made my way through the book--is welcome, and really helps to amplify her message. I just wish that I could find Black voices who are inclusive and encouraging to the likes of me, less strident.
I also commit my brain to endorsing racial justice by seeking out Black voices. I take the voices I read, like Isabel Wilkerson and Tanehisi Coates, and I put them right into my curriculum at school. I'm not surprised by the seismic cultural changes, and I don't want this generation to be surprised either.
And yet, despite my commitment to racial justice, people treat me--a white, Christian, male, cisgender Southerner--like I just put took off a red MAGA hat before endorsing their perspective. On Twitter, I was blocked by an African-American author whom I had promoted and taught in my classroom. I lost a contract when a comment was misconstrued as racist. My own child took me to task this summer for my initial reaction to her boyfriend--a man of a different race--explaining in painfully elementary terms the words that I should and shouldn't say about him or in his presence.
Now if you're still reading this review, by now, I'm sure you're wondering, "Dear James, this should be a review of Just Us, not about you.
You might look in my closet for that MEGA hat. (I don't own one. It's sad that I need to put this in writing.)
But here's the point: the book, Just Us IS about me. It's more about me than about any other topic. That's because Rankine is obsessed about White Privilege, and her book connects the dots between random conversations she has with strangers who may or may not realize how clueless they are--who may or may not be hiding a MAGA hat in their carry-on bags.
That's not to say that her book isn't good. It is. Full of unique insights and meaningful connections. It just feels like they are darts aimed at the same square centimeter of the dart board. If readers are looking for more evidence of white malfeasance, they will find it here. If they themselves are white, they will get an earful.
One good example is an exchange Rankine shares with a colleague who had studied white attitudes about the seismic changes I mentioned above:
"I asked Dow what he learned in his conversations with white men. 'They are strugling to construct a just narrative for themselves as new information comes in, and they are having to refashion their own narratives and coming up short.... We are seeing the deconstruction of the white-male archetype. The individual actor on the grand stage always had the support of a genocidal government, but this is not the narrative we grew up with.'"
What about me? If I had a misconstrued stereotype of my whiteness and maleness, they were exploded by reading. I was never the same after the spring of 1992 when I read The Autobiography of Malcolm X and Native Son, and they were obliterated by the horrible injustice that led to the LA riots two months later.
For a reader like me, who considers himself liberal but who is consistently mis-branded because of my race, faith, and gender, there wasn't a lot new in Just Us . The "American Conversation" of the subtitle felt more like a diatribe.
But I did enjoy the book. Rankine's use of multimedia--and her reference to interesting artists whom I looked up as I made my way through the book--is welcome, and really helps to amplify her message. I just wish that I could find Black voices who are inclusive and encouraging to the likes of me, less strident.