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A review by calarco
So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo
5.0
Honestly, this book will help prompt all of the conversations that the title promises; [b:So You Want to Talk About Race|35099718|So You Want to Talk About Race|Ijeoma Oluo|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1499224833l/35099718._SX50_.jpg|56405219] reads as a great how-to tool to help facilitate difficult conversations surrounding race. Ijeoma Oluo has a vivid narrative voice as an author, and in a series of essays she conveys a number of key points so brilliantly.
One of the most relatable parts (at least if you are biracial) was when Oluo recounted an uncomfortable conversation with her well-intentioned white mother. By my teens I was predominantly raised by my white father, and while there was a lot he didn’t know, every awkward conversation on race was always rooted in empathetic listening on his part, and we are now both better people for those exchanges.
Now, Oluo’s account is way funnier, and she definitely has a point about the necessity to engage in these conversations, even if the prospect of talking about the uncomfortable will make you want to cringe into the ninth dimension. More often than not, if people care more about you than about being “right,” then the conversation can only be productive, if still awkward.
Another topic Oluo summarizes well, is how to engage in a conversation on one of the most contentious topics today—privilege. She makes it clear that this label is not some throw-away insult, rather, it is an objective observation. If you have not been discriminated against on the basis of race, you have racial privilege, just as if you do not have to live with a disability you have able-bodied privilege. It just means that you have fewer specific obstacles to deal with; it by no means belittles other struggles.
“Disadvantaged white people are not erased by discussions of disadvantages facing people of color, just as brain cancer is not erased by talking about breast cancer. They are two different issues with two different treatments, and they require two different conversations.”
This passage definitely calls to mind how some people can somehow comfortably respond to “Black Lives Matter” with the indignant “All Lives Matter.” I mean everyone’s life matters, but the problem at hand is that black people are being murdered by police at alarming rates; that’s just reality. Lifting one group up in solidarity does not belittle anyone else, if anything I feel quite the opposite. Like, you wouldn’t go to a breast cancer awareness event and start screaming that “all cancer matters!”
On the topic of police brutality, because Oluo roots her discussions in her own personal experiences, like being pulled over by a cop when she was a teenager, I think she adds a great deal of emotional depth to the conversation. As she summarizes: "I know that it's hard to believe that the people you look to for safety and security are the same people who are causing us so much harm. But I'm not lying and I'm not delusional. I am scared and I am hurting and we are dying. And I really, really need you to believe me."
Police brutality is inevitably a charged issue because it deals with peoples’ emotions surrounding their own safety—just because you can rely on something to keep you safe, does not mean everyone can. I imagine this uncertainty is simply too painful for some to grasp, thought that certainly does not excuse ignoring facts and data. I suppose that’s where my understanding ends; how can someone deny empirical evidence? Or more important; how can someone deny someone else’s humanity?
Overall, this is a really great book for anyone interested in facilitating challenging dialogues, or anyone who simply wants to know more about race studies. I highly recommend it.
One of the most relatable parts (at least if you are biracial) was when Oluo recounted an uncomfortable conversation with her well-intentioned white mother. By my teens I was predominantly raised by my white father, and while there was a lot he didn’t know, every awkward conversation on race was always rooted in empathetic listening on his part, and we are now both better people for those exchanges.
Now, Oluo’s account is way funnier, and she definitely has a point about the necessity to engage in these conversations, even if the prospect of talking about the uncomfortable will make you want to cringe into the ninth dimension. More often than not, if people care more about you than about being “right,” then the conversation can only be productive, if still awkward.
Another topic Oluo summarizes well, is how to engage in a conversation on one of the most contentious topics today—privilege. She makes it clear that this label is not some throw-away insult, rather, it is an objective observation. If you have not been discriminated against on the basis of race, you have racial privilege, just as if you do not have to live with a disability you have able-bodied privilege. It just means that you have fewer specific obstacles to deal with; it by no means belittles other struggles.
“Disadvantaged white people are not erased by discussions of disadvantages facing people of color, just as brain cancer is not erased by talking about breast cancer. They are two different issues with two different treatments, and they require two different conversations.”
This passage definitely calls to mind how some people can somehow comfortably respond to “Black Lives Matter” with the indignant “All Lives Matter.” I mean everyone’s life matters, but the problem at hand is that black people are being murdered by police at alarming rates; that’s just reality. Lifting one group up in solidarity does not belittle anyone else, if anything I feel quite the opposite. Like, you wouldn’t go to a breast cancer awareness event and start screaming that “all cancer matters!”
On the topic of police brutality, because Oluo roots her discussions in her own personal experiences, like being pulled over by a cop when she was a teenager, I think she adds a great deal of emotional depth to the conversation. As she summarizes: "I know that it's hard to believe that the people you look to for safety and security are the same people who are causing us so much harm. But I'm not lying and I'm not delusional. I am scared and I am hurting and we are dying. And I really, really need you to believe me."
Police brutality is inevitably a charged issue because it deals with peoples’ emotions surrounding their own safety—just because you can rely on something to keep you safe, does not mean everyone can. I imagine this uncertainty is simply too painful for some to grasp, thought that certainly does not excuse ignoring facts and data. I suppose that’s where my understanding ends; how can someone deny empirical evidence? Or more important; how can someone deny someone else’s humanity?
Overall, this is a really great book for anyone interested in facilitating challenging dialogues, or anyone who simply wants to know more about race studies. I highly recommend it.