Early in Between the
World and Me, a memoir addressed to his fifteen year-old son, Ta-Nehisi
Coates writes, “I tell you now that the question of how one should live within
a black body, within a country lost in the Dream, is the question of my life,
and the pursuit of this question, I have found, ultimately answers itself.”
Between the World and
Me is the story of Coates’s questioning, as a fearful boy in the brutal streets
and failed schools of Baltimore; as a young man in the library at Howard
University, Mecca to young black scholars; as an adult, an anxious father, doing
the best he can to raise his son to be real and free in a country where the lives
of black boys become increasingly expendable.
In the process, he addresses the paradox at the root of America’s
long history of racial strife: our country, whose Constitution declares freedom
and equality for all people, was built on the backs of black people whose lives
and bodies were and continue to be fodder for the American Dream.
“America understands itself as God’s handiwork,” Coates
writes, “but the black body is the clearest evidence that America is the work
of men.
The result of this is a legacy of visceral, constricting fear
at every level of Black culture. Coates’s parents weren’t religious, so there
was no retreat to the comforts and mysteries that so often sustain believers.
They were strict, pragmatic, afraid. Coates remembers his mother holding his
hand crossing a busy street, telling him that if he ever let go and got killed
by a car she would beat him back to life. At six, he wandered away while visiting
a local park; when his parents found him, his father reached for his strap. “Later
I would hear it in Dad’s voice—” Coates writes. “‘Either I can beat him, or the
police.’ Maybe that saved me. Maybe it didn’t. All I know is, the violence rose
from the fear like smoke from a fire, and I cannot say whether that violence,
even administered in fear and love, sounded the alarm or choked us off at the
exit.”
Even wealthy, privileged Blacks suffer the consequences of
the Dream. Coates tells the story of the death of a college friend, Prince
Jones, at the hands of the police. Jones’s mother was a doctor, he was raised in
an affluent community, yet he was stopped by the police for the same kind of
vague reason that hundreds of young black men are stopped and all too often killed
by the police: they were searching for a young black man who looked nothing at
all like the young man they’d stopped and about whom they had no cause for
suspicion…but he was there. The police officer who made the “mistake” was not
prosecuted.
Early in the book Coates writes about his son’s reaction to
learning that the police officers who killed Michael Brown would not be
punished. “You said, ‘I’ve got to go,’ and you went to your your room and I
heard you crying.”
Coates goes to his son, but does not comfort him because he
felt to comfort him would be wrong. He doesn’t tell him that it would be okay,
because he didn’t believe it. What he tells him was what his own parents had
tried to make him understand when he was the same age: “…that this is your
country, that this is your world, that this is your body, and you must find a
way to live within the all of it.”
Between the World and
Me is the most honest, courageous, original, and heartbreaking book about
race in America that I have ever read. It offers little hope. How could it,
given the world as it is? There are no easy answers, either. How could there be
when we can’t bring ourselves to ask the questions that matter?
About his own thwarted search for answers to the essential
question of his life, Coates writes, “It began to strike me that the point of
my education was a kind of discomfort, was a process that would not award me my
own especial Dream, but would break all the dreams, all the comforting myths of
Africa, of America, of everywhere, and would leave me only humanity in all its
terribleness.”
May we all have the determination and courage to experience
such discomfort in (finally) facing the real issues surrounding race in
America. If we fail to do this, we cannot survive.
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