So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma OluoMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Because if you believe in justice and equality you believe in it all the time, for all people. You believe in it for newborn babies, you believe it in for single mothers, you believe in it for kids on the street, you believe in justice and equality for people you like and people you don't. You believe in it for people who don't say please. (204)
This is just one of many "mic drop" moments from Ijeoma Oluo in a book that is a terrific "primer" on racial dialogue (or sometimes, monologue--therein lies part of the problem). Oluo tackles the most common complaints and the stickiest topics: privilege, intersectionality, police brutality, affirmative action, school-to-prison pipeline, the "N" word, cultural appropriation, microaggressions, and more. If you know that person who says they aren't racist but also feels fragile when it comes to confronting these issues, this is probably a great book for them to read.
Oluo remains accessible, but not neutral. She speaks truth to power with patience. It takes courage to look at so many injustices and try to invoke them as "teachable moments" in the hope of creating understanding and action. To be sure, this isn't just about how to talk to that difficult relative or neighbor, but it is an important look at some of our most common failings that drive and create injustices--in our schools, in our communities, and in our homes.
But this isn't just a prescriptive book for white people. It is for everyone. Her chapter on the model minority myth does a really good job of explaining racism against Asian Americans, including (but not limited to), rendering a good chunk of "Asian" peoples as invisible (e.g. Pacific Islanders, Southeast Asians):
While every racial minority in the US in subject to harmful stereotyping, the model minority myth becomes hard to combat when it is not seen as harmful because the people most harmed by it are also made invisible by it. (194)
Occasionally Ijeoma peppers her prose with little bits of humor. When she writes about her mother and says "I am forever a bratty teenager in her presence" that reaches across to many adult daughters and their mothers. But for the most part, the talk is direct and very clear. She uses metaphors for understanding, but never lets them veer off topic. For white people---she lets us know we are racist. Full stop. Men in a patriarchy are sexist. Able-bodied people are ableist. "You can sometimes be all of these things at once," she reminds us. (217).
Oluo calls us to examine all our identities and ALL our moments: "...in reality we are both the culmination of those countless moments, and each moment individually in time." (217). If you find yourself reading this review and thinking "but, but, but" or rolling your eyes, please DO read this book. I think it will help you talk to yourself about race--and that is the first conversation that needs to happen before any others.
