The thing that annoys me the most about the conversations around reparations (and there are other, minor annoyances, believe me) is that the talk remains centered around money and property. When I read Ta-nehesi Coates’ essay for The Atlantic “A Case for Reparations” — and if you are a resident of America and haven’t read this yet, just open another tab and do so now, please — it led me to the reparations legislation that John Conyers had been trying to pass every year for at least 25 years. It’s known as HB 40, and when I read that, I realized that education is a key part of it as well.
Reparations means almost nothing without education, and an understanding of what this country is truly built upon. Part of the reason white nationalism and white supremacy remains today is because in school, the brutality of slavery and all of its other offshoots rooted in racism is largely avoided. So there is this room in the classroom for a student to walk out thinking that the Civil War was about “states’ rights.” There’s room for adults in the year of our Lord 2019 who chant “Send her back” and advocate for separating different families in similar cruel ways yet again in our history with no trace of irony.
So that’s why I’ll be spending time this weekend getting acquainted with the New York Times’ The 1619 Project. It’s an effort to show how the effects of slavery touches every part of what America is today. This is where an honest conversation about reparations begins — with what actually happened and how it frames what’s happening today. The New York Times can have my money on this one.
What I’m Reading
Toni Morrison, of course. I remember when I was about 13 years old, and being the advanced reader I was, ran across a Toni Morrison book — I want to say it was “Song of Solomon” — and cracked it open. I was too young — I didn’t understand it, although I knew it to be beautiful writing, even then.
When she died last week, I was sad, but she lived a good, full life. My dad also died this year and he was a writer. I’m not trying to claim he was on the Toni Morrison level, but I do understand a little more the importance of leaving a bit of yourself behind, and that’s what she did. So if I want to remember her influence on telling the stories of black women without blinking, then I have her books. Farewell, Toni. I mean, Ms. Morrison.
(Did you all know that she wrote children’s books as well? I didn’t, but now my kids know. “Peeny Butter Fudge” is pretty deep for a children’s book.)
What I’m Reading, Part II
Have you ever panicked because you haven’t had a good book to read, even with all the books you own that you haven’t read? Have you ever gone to your library’s website to solve this “problem,” only to find the book you want is unavailable? Then you go down the list of all the books you want and finally — paydirt — there’s one.
Then, the first one you put a hold on is waiting at the library for you. The second one. Now, you’ve got two weeks to read all of this:
In my ears
So I did a quick drive to Atlanta and back recently to do some clearing-out work at my dad’s house, and came across the newest season of Crimetown. The first season was about the generations of corruption in Providence, Rhode Island. This year is a deep dive into Detroit. I am not from Detroit, nor have I ever been there, and I was thoroughly fascinated by this series. I also want to say that I don’t know what it is about Marc Smerling and Zac Stuart-Pontier that they get the interviews that make these stories pop (such as Kwame Kilpatrick and his entire family and his mistress. You might also recall their involvement on HBO’s “The Jinx,” which culminated in Robert Durst croaking out something that might have been a confession.
What’s great about this podcast is that it could be lazy and still be quite popular. Who doesn’t love consuming stories about crime, right? But this show is not lazy. It takes its time telling the stories of all these characters, especially Kilpatrick, the former mayor, so that it isn’t so easy to label them criminals or “bad guys.” You don’t just become a criminal. It’s a process and that’s far more fascinating to listen to than limiting the story to the criminal acts. If you’re stuck in a car for seven hours, this podcast is a pretty good way to spend it.