Book Review of AN AMERICAN MARRIAGE

I want to tell you what reading An American Marriage by Tayari Jones did to me: it blew the doors of my understanding of white privilege wide open.

Those doors will never be shut again.

I read An American Marriage in the wake of George Floyd’s murder. With a few exceptions, most of my reads are written by white women. This isn’t a purposeful decision, but it’s a trend I’ve noticed over the past few years, so I’ve decided to diversify things a bit. Enter An American Marriage, which was promoted on an Anti-Racist Reading List I found online during the #SupportBlackAuthors and #BlackStoriesMatter movements this month.

As I turned the first few pages, easing into the first chapters, I wanted to believe that the scenario presented in An American Marriage could never be true. My brain fought against it hard. Logic dictated that no one could idly accuse someone of a crime they clearly didn’t commit. That a white woman could so easily and dismissively mistake one black man for another, and that every white person around her would take her accusation at face value. That there’s no way a jury or judge could issue a conviction without concrete evidence that’s incredibly easy to procure, and there’s no way that the life of one person could be ripped away from him in a second, all because of the color of his skin.

But, in recent light of what happened to George Floyd, and to all those who came before him… I had to reconsider. I had to admit that not only was it possible, but that it was happening, and that it’s still happening. And, that’s not okay.

I’ve always considered myself a non-racist person. I’ve never thought anyone is more or less deserving because of their skin color, or their sexual orientation, religion, etc. Growing up, my friends were a diverse mix of different races and ethnicities, and there’s even more diversity in my world now as it continually expands to embrace new friends, family members, and colleagues.

Given how much and how often I’m surrounded by People of Color, I’ve never really paid much attention to personally becoming “more aware.” I basically figured I was aware…wasn’t I? As a blogger friend so recently and perfectly summed it up, I consider myself “educated, liberal, aware, tolerant, and open-minded.” When compared to some people I know, I figured I was ahead of the curve, and that was pretty damn good.

But, I wasn’t. And it wasn’t until I read An American Marriage that I “got it.”

I’ll let you in on a secret: one of my biggest fears is that my life will be irrevocably changed out of nowhere; that it will be shattered by an outside force, and I’ll be powerless to stop it from happening. Like how Jews in the 1940s were hauled from their homes and families without warning, without reason, and thrown into concentration camps. How their familiar, daily existences abruptly came to a halt, and their lives as they knew them were ripped away and thrown carelessly into the night.

I can’t imagine anything worse than living a life you love one day, then having it utterly destroyed, in every way possible, the next.

However, I’ve always thought that such calamitous, unfathomable change could only be wrought at the hands of something cataclysmic, something that I can’t see coming and am more or less powerless to stop – like a world war, or a nuclear bomb, or the sun exploding in the sky. Or, even this Coronavirus that’s swept the world these past few months. And, while this potential, life-altering scenario may rear its ugly head from time to time, it really doesn’t pose a regular, everyday threat to me. It’s something I have the luxury of dwelling on only from time to time.

It never occurred to me – well, maybe a little, but not really – that there are people in our country who live with the fear of something catastrophic happening to them every single day. And, it’s not because a meteor is hurtling toward Earth; it’s because they’re walking down the street and someone doesn’t like the color of their skin.

People of Color live with the possibility of their lives being irrevocably up-ended in the blink of an eye all the time. Their everyday happiness is constantly threatened in the exact way that I fear. And that’s NOT okay.

I get it now. I GET IT. I thought I did before, but I didn’t. It wasn’t until I was about 50 pages into An American Marriage, tears streaming down my face and my heart breaking for two people who don’t exist, but also do exist…that I FINALLY got it.

Could what happens to Roy and Celestial in An American Marriage happen to me? Sure.

Will it happen to me? Probably not. And that’s because I’m white.

I finally understand what white privilege is. I’m sorry I didn’t understand it sooner. I’ve always been a little slow to catch on.

When I started writing my first novel, a friend asked me, “What do you hope to accomplish with your writing?” Wanting to be modest, my reply was something like, “Become published, and maybe sell enough books to quit my job and write full-time.”

The real answer burning within me was, “I want to shake the world.”

An American Marriage by Tayari Jones is a book that shakes the world; this devastating, haunting story of love and injustice twists your gut and pierces your soul.

Of course, Jones’ writing is gorgeous. Her ability to weave and work the English language is striking, and I drank every word down while simultaneously burning with a severe case of writer envy. Everyone should write like this; very few people can. That’s another thing that makes An American Marriage special.

If you’re struggling to get a handle on what white privilege is, or why it’s just so damn important to speak up, speak out, and to do something, anything  against the blatant, horrific racism that exists in America, read this book. Read An American Marriage.

*******

Not to detract from the serious message in my review, but there will be a book-inspired recipe for An American Marriage. Be sure to check back in for Sock-It-To-Me Cake.