“Blackness is Not Probable Cause”: An Analysis of Black Lives Matter Literature

by

Kayli Bland

A thesis submitted to

Sonoma State University

In partial fulfillment of the requirements

for the degree of

MASTER OF ARTS

in

English

Committee Members:

Dr. Kim Hester-Williams

Dr. Megan McIntyre

May 18, 2021 Copyright 2021

By Kayli Bland

ii Authorization for Reproduction of Master’s Thesis

I grant permission for the print or digital reproduction of this thesis [project] in its entirety, without further authorization from me, on the condition that the person or agency requesting reproduction absorb the cost and provide proper acknowledgment of authorship.

Date: ____5/14/2021______Name: ______

iii “Blackness is Not Probable Cause”: An Analysis of Black Lives Matter Literature

Thesis by Kayli Bland

ABSTRACT:

The recent death of George Floyd sparked civil unrest and protest in every major city across the United States as well as internationally. The American people called for justice, not only for Floyd but for all the Black men, women, and children wrongfully executed by police. Beginning with the death of Trayvon Martin in 2013, the Black Lives Matter movement has become a fundamental part of our history and public discourse which has forced us to talk about and face racism. This project seeks to understand how the murder of George Floyd reveals how systemic racism functions in America and is, importantly, understood, articulated, and resisted in Black vernacular discourse and contemporary Black literary texts. My thesis will focus strictly on Black authors, such as Kiese Laymon and Claudia Rankine, with references to Frantz Fanon, James Baldwin, Vershawn Ashanti Young, and Frank B. Wilderson III. The premise of this project is to illustrate the importance of the emphasis on the Black experience in articulating and navigating the theoretical, cultural, intellectual, and literary terrain, including the space of the University, and ideas such as Afropessimism, anti-Blackness, and code-switching directly relevant to and constitutive of the larger field of Black Lives Matter discourse. Namely, the Black Lives Matter movement is at the center of my research that focuses primarily on contemporary Black authors and will hopefully shed light on an emergent genre of literature that is challenging the progress that has been made toward a so-called post-racial society. The goal of this thesis will be to show how these authors are in conversation with the Black Lives Matter Movement and to discuss the pervasiveness of anti-Blackness on the Black experience in order to progress towards a truly antiracist future.

MA Program: English Sonoma State University May 18, 2021

iv Acknowledgments

To Dr. Kim Hester Williams, thank you for taking my messy, broad idea and helping me turn it into something I can be truly proud of. Your flexibility and understanding during this truly historic year were so crucial to my mental health while writing. Your unmatched wealth of knowledge allowed me to put myself into conversation with incredible authors that I may never have known without your guidance. To Dr. Megan McIntrye, thank you for introducing me to antitracist pedagogy and inspiring parts of this project. Your kindness and understanding allowed me to be kind to myself during the editing process. Thank you for always highlighting my strengths and gently encouraging improvements where they were needed. You are an inspiration to future teachers and you have given me real hope for future students as we continue to fight for change. To my fiancé whose unconditional love and support made an impossible task possible. Thank you for carrying the load of our household and providing for our family. You gave me the strength, freedom, and care I needed to take on such a tremendous task. Thank you for always reminding me of what I am capable of and why I am here. To my mother, who has always loved me even when I felt genuinely unlovable. You were the first woman to teach me what the true strength of a woman looks like. You have faced more adversity than most and have remained humble and full of compassion. You are and always will be my best friend and my truest confidante. None of my achievements would have been possible without you. Thank you for always pushing me to be the best version of myself.

v Table of Contents

Chapter: Page Introduction…………………………………………………………………………….1 I. The Importance of anti-Black Anecdotes……………………………………………..9 II. Dismantling the Master’s House without the Master’s Tools……………………….25 III. The Danger of The White Imaginary and Colorblind Thinking: How Microaggressions in White Spaces Perpetuate White Hierarchical Thinking…...... 40 IV. The White Imaginary Continued: How Microaggression and Language Fuel National anti-Black Violence…………………………………………………………..58 Conclusion……………………………………………………………………………....72

vi 1

Introduction:

I was sixteen years old and a high school Junior the year that Trayvon Martin was shot and killed by self-appointed neighborhood crime watcher, George Zimmerman.

Although Martin was only a year older than me and was like any other teenage boy at my high school I did not understand the situation at the time. It never occurred to me that he could have been someone I knew and cared about. Growing up I had faced my share of adversity; my parents are recovering addicts/ alcoholics and I spent a lot of my childhood in and out of foster homes and shelters. My experience, while not ideal, helped me to grasp a better understanding of the world and my privilege. While only about 3% of former foster youth will graduate from a 4-year university, I find myself wondering what percentage of those students are White.

It was not until my first semester at Sonoma State that I began to fully understand my White privilege when I took my first American Multicultural Studies class. When the professor began explaining White privilege I listened intently and took notes. Another

White student interrupted the professor and demanded a better explanation because she felt that she had never experienced this privilege. The professor was calm and let her explain that she had grown up poor and nothing in life had ever been handed to her so how could he claim that she was privileged. My first thought at this interaction was that I too had grown up poor along with many other challenges but I would never challenge a professor in the middle of a lecture. He explained that while she may have faced adversity in her life, her Whiteness was not one of the things that had made her life more challenging. The girl did not seem to fully understand and still seemed upset but his 2 explanation had fully grasped me—I started to see my life differently and wanted to learn more.

I learned a lot over the next four years of undergrad and racism appeared as the main theme in almost all of my classes. I loved to learn so much that I came back for my

Master’s Degree and when it came time to choose a topic for my thesis I was completely stumped. However, in the summer before my second year of Grad School George Floyd was murdered by police officers in Minneapolis. When the news hit I thought back to my high school self and Trayvon Martin; I thought about how much I had grown and also about how many Black men and women had been killed by police officers since then. At this moment I knew I wanted to focus my thesis strictly on Black authors so I began reading and researching with the help of my advisors.

The main chapters of this thesis focus primarily on the work of Kiese Laymon and

Claudia Rankine with supporting evidence from James Baldwin, Vershawn Ashanti

Young, Ibram X. Kendi, Christina Sharpe, Frantz Fanon, and Frank B. Wilderson III.

First, I examine Laymon’s collection of essays How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in

America where he recalls personal anecdotes about community, trauma, and life as a

Black man from Mississippi. In my second chapter, I discuss Laymon’s memoir, Heavy where he recounts some of the most impactful moments of his life. The bulk of his memoir speaks to his relationship with his mother and issues with his weight, however, he acknowledges that his Blackness is at the forefront of all of these impactful moments.

In these two chapters, I explain how Laymon’s work functions to expose the normalcy of anti-Blackness. My third chapter explores Claudia Rankine’s most recent book, Just Us, which provides accounts of racial microaggressions that she and others experience. In 3 this chapter, I offer insight on the White imaginary and how it is synonymous with White fear and anxiety, also called Negrophobia. Lastly, I focus my research on Rankine’s lyric

Citizen where she continues to share personal experiences of racial microaggression. I analyze the microaggressions that stem from anti-Blackness in her lyric and further discuss how she exposes the danger of the White imaginary. Each chapter argues how and why these authors fit into the emergent genre of Black Lives Matter Literature.

The purpose of this project is to identify how Black language and literature inform the Black Lives Matter Movement. While Black Lives Matter Literature has not been universally recognized as a literary genre yet, Julia Lajta-Novak stated in an interview with the Austrian Academy of Science: “At the moment, there are BLM reading lists in many newspapers, from the New York Times to the Guardian to Vogue, that show what great literature is out there; literature that until now has received far too little attention. For the first time, Black authors have topped the paperback charts in the

UK. So, BLM is actually reflected in sales figures”. One of the purposes of my project is to explore the concept of Black Lives Matter Literature as an emergent genre by analyzing a few of the authors that have produced works that I believe fall into the scope.

I would define BLM Literature as any texts written by Black authors that unapologetically emphasize the Black experience but more specifically how the Black experience cannot exist without oppression and anti-Black racism. The authors that fall into this genre also explicitly and implicitly show their support of the movement in their writing. Furthermore, the goal of the genre is to share personal anecdotes about the Black experience that emphasize the need for systemic and institutional change by indicating how oppression and anti-Blackness have impacted the lives of the authors and people 4 close to them. Many of the personal examples provided by Laymon and Rankine both implicitly and explicitly reference the movement while each shares their personal experiences of anti-Blackness, institutional racism, and microaggressions. Rankine and

Laymon both dismantle the myth that we live in a post-racial society by utilizing the platform of writing to demonstrate how anti-Blackness and anti-Black violence are still, unfortunately, very common and not isolated incidents. Many other Black authors can and do fall into the genre of BLM Literature, however, they cannot all be mentioned here.

For example, Angie Thompson’s The Hate U Give is another excellent example of YA literature that would also fit into the scope of BLM Literature, however, I am only able to analyze a small portion of the genre. I hope that this project will shed light on the emergent genre and allow for further exploration and research on the art that springs from such a historic moment. This project serves as a space to bring me into the conversation with some amazing Black authors working to progress towards an antiracist future.

For this project, I will be exploring the terms anti-Blackness, Afropessimism, antiracist, and Black Vernacular Language. First, the term anti-Blackness is a form of racism that is specifically damaging toward Black people. The differentiation is important between racism and anti-Black racism because the term anti-Black acknowledges a more specific lived experience. By lumping all instances of racism together we ignore the historical differences between races but we also fail to recognize that the Black experience is unique because slavery was unique. Katie Grimes’s article “Antiblackness” explains the term in more detail. Grimes states: “Thus, in order to understand how antiblackness differs from other forms of evil, including other forms of racial evil, we must do two things at once: understand how slavery differs—in kind and not just in 5

degree—from other forms of social evils, including those imposed upon non-Black

people of color; and two, we must specify how Africanized slavery differs from other

instances of slavery practiced throughout human history, including the enslavement of

indigenous peoples at the beginning of English and Spanish settlement of the Americas”

(173). Grimes also thoughtfully analyzes how the master-slave relationship has been

present in many other cultures and places throughout history. In fact, she emphasizes that

indigenous peoples in America were also enslaved and that indentured servitude

elsewhere was very common and Africanized slavery was not necessarily more brutal,

degrading, or dehumanizing. However, what makes Africanized slavery so unique is that

it was corporealized; in other words, the African people were enslaved because they were

Black. In addition, chattel slavery has caused intergenerational trauma of which the emotional and mental impacts are not common among all races. It is crucial to demonstrate the difference between racism generally and anti-Blackness specifically because it speaks to the Discourse of Individualism which states that failure to acknowledge the differences between races is, to say the least, problematic. For example,

Robin J. DiAngelo writes in her essay “Why Can’t We All Just Be Individuals?:

Countering the Discourse of Individualism in Anti-racist Education” that the Discourse of

Individualism “claim[s] that we all act independently from one another and that we all have the same possibility of achievement and are unmarked by social positions such as race, class, and gender.” (4) In her eight key dynamics she exposes how the Discourse of

Individualism either masks or reinforces racism, for example, by functioning as

Neo-colorblindness or denying the existence of White privilege. 6

Another key term I will use is Afropessimism which was popularized by Frank B.

Wilderson in his book Afropessimism. He combines the philosophy of Blackness with his memoir which discusses his upbringing in mid-century Minneapolis, with his life in

Berkeley in the late 1960s as well as his experience of apartheid in South Africa. In short,

Wilderson “demonstrates that the social construct of slavery, as seen through pervasive, anti-Black subjugation and violence, is hardly a relic of the past but an almost necessary force in our civilization that flourishes today, and that Black struggles cannot be conflated with the experiences of any other oppressed group”. Afropessimism is a lens of interpretation that theorizes civil society is dependent on anti-Black violence and claims that anti-Black violence is necessary to maintain social structures. Furthermore,

Wilderson borrows the idea of “social death” from Orlando Patterson which, “describes the experience of slavery as it has appeared across time and space—a slave is not merely an exploited person but someone robbed of his or her personhood. For Wilderson, the state of slavery, for Black people, is permanent: every Black person is always a slave [...] emancipation is a myth” (Cunningham 2020). In short, slavery is a relational dynamic and Afropessimism posits that this relational dynamic is still at play today.

I will also use the term antiracist throughout my project to speak more about what

BLM Literature hopes to do. Antiracist was first popularized by writer Ibram X. Kendi in his texts “How to Be an Antiracist” and Stamped where he proposes that the goal is not to live in an imagined post-racial utopia but rather to be an antiracist. According to Kendi’s

“How to Be an Antiracist”, “an antiracist idea is any idea that suggests the racial groups are equals in all their apparent differences—that there is nothing right or wrong with any racial group. Antiracist ideas argue that racist policies are the cause of racial inequities”. 7

Furthermore, Kendi’s book Stamped points out that there is a difference between a segregationist, assimilationist, and an antiracist. The difference between an assimilationist and an antiracist is crucial because assimilationists push for everyone to fit into one particular definition of who is acceptable and in so doing perpetuates White supremacy in America whereas, antiracists respect and praise racial differences and work toward dismantling White supremacist structures.

Lastly, the term Black Vernacular will inform parts of this project as it speaks to institutional power structures. Quoted in the notes section of April Baker-Bell’s article

“Dismantling anti-Black Linguistic Racism in English Language Arts Classrooms:

Toward an Anti-racist Black Language Pedagogy”, Black Vernacular is defined by

Geneva Smitherman as, “a style of speaking English words with Black Flava–with

Africanized semantic, grammatical, pronunciation, and rhetorical patterns. [Black

Language] comes out of the experience of US slave descendants. This shared experience has resulted in common language practices in the Black community. The roots of African

American speech lie in the counter language, the resistance discourse, that was created as a communication system unintelligible to speakers of the dominant master class” (11).

Black Vernacular or Black language is crucial to parts of my project because it is often not acknowledged in the academic community and is treated as a lesser form of speaking and writing. The lack of appreciation for the linguistic complexity of Black Vernacular perpetuates anti-Black linguistic racism. Baker-Bell describes anti-Black linguistic racism as “the linguistic violence, persecution, dehumanization, and marginalization that Black

Language (BL) speakers endure when using their language in schools and everyday life.

It includes teachers’ silencing, correcting, and policing students when they communicate 8 in BL” (2). White language supremacy affects how Black students view themselves and leads to internalized racism because they view their linguistic resources as inferior. Black

Vernacular is not the sole focus of my project, however, it is a crucial part of framing some of Kiese Laymon’s work. In addition, the discrimination against Black Vernacular in our schools shows how anti-Black racism saturates Black life. From a young age, in a space that is meant to feel safe Black students experience anti-Blackness. 9

Chapter One The Importance of anti-Black Anecdotes

Kiese Laymon is a Black American author who was born in Jackson, Mississippi

in 1974. He is currently a professor of English and Creative Writing at the University of

Mississippi. His most famous texts include his memoir Heavy, a collection of essays How

to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America and his more recent novel Long Division.

In this chapter, I will analyze Laymon’s collection of essays How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America and why it should be considered for the emergent BLM Literature genre. I focus my attention on Laymon’s experience with anti-Blackness from elementary to college and explore how institutional racism functions as a power structure. In addition, I analyze his experience with anti-Black violence throughout his life and how he compares the violence he experiences to people associated with the BLM movement. The purpose of this chapter is to expose how anti-Black violence pervades Black life and to engage the lens of Afropessimism to explore how anti-Black violence is necessary for maintaining White Supremacy.

In his collection of essays, Kiese Laymon strings together several gripping essays that discuss everything from love and community to pain and racial trauma. However, the overall statement Laymon is making is that Black lives have been and continue to be very different from the lives of White Americans. Laymon uses countless personal anecdotes and examples to expose the rawness of his life as a Black man from Jackson, Mississippi.

In his essay entitled “The Worst of White Folks,” Laymon describes an incident at school which confirmed what his grandmother and mother had been telling him about his place in the world. One of the other boys at school had made him laugh during mass and as a 10 result, they were sent to the office. Young Laymon recalls how he was punished when he got home and described his mothers “whupping”. He explains that in-between licks from the belt she says, “‘don’t...you...know..White...folks...don’t...care...if...you...die’”(27).

Laymon realizes later the true importance and meaning behind his mother’s discipline because he needed to be held to a higher standard if he was going to survive in America.

The rules were different for him because what would generally be seen as innocent, if somewhat disruptive, play between young boys was taken as the first sign of disobedience which for Laymon could one day be deadly. One of the essays from Killing

Trayvons: An Anthology of American Violence discusses the death of Trayvon Martin.

The author also provides a personal account of how she saw Black boys growing up that reflects Laymon’s experience with his mother. In “The Lingering Memory of Dead Boys”

Tayari Jones states, “When I was young, girls were not mere bystanders as we watched our mothers groom our brothers to live in a world that feared them” (50). Laymon’s

White classmates may not have even been sent to the office for such a mild disruption, however, Laymon’s mother begins to fear for his life. While some may have seen his mother’s reaction as harsh, she is preparing Laymon for the White-dominated world that would someday see his Blackness as a threat. Any sign of disrespect toward an authority figure could one day get him killed.

Upon further reflection, Laymon understands that when his mother or grandmother says White folks they specifically mean “the worst of White folks”. He thinks about all the White people he knows from people on TV to his teachers, whom he knows do not want him dead. He goes on to explain that: 11

The worst of White folks, I understood, wasn't some gang of rabid White people in

crisp pillowcases and shaved heads. The worst of White folks was a pathetic,

powerful "it" that took pride in captaining America's team, captivating America's

rivals, and acting as the world's referee. It conveniently forgot that it came to this

country on a boat, then reacted violently when anything or anyone suggested it

share. The worst of White folks wanted our mamas and grandmas to work

themselves sick for a tiny sliver of an American pie it needed to believe it made

from scratch. It was all at once crazy-making and quick to discipline us for acting

crazy. The worst of White folks had an insatiable appetite for virtuoso Black

performance and routine Black suffering. White Americans were wholly

responsible for the worst of White folks, though they would make sure it never

wholly defined them. (28)

He argues that the worst of White folks are not always members of the KKK or White supremacist groups but included people who revel in their privilege while hoarding what they believe they are entitled to and refusing to acknowledge that it has anything to do with race. The worst of White folks includes people who say “not all White people” or

“not all cops”. Lastly, Laymon places responsibility on all White Americans who see racial injustice happening but do not do anything about it; people who know that they are responsible for the worst of White folks but will continue to argue that they are not like them and they are not racist.

In this essay, Laymon is not simply describing his childhood or explaining how his life was different from some of his peers. He is openly and explicitly backing the

BLM movement through his writing by sharing his experience with anti-Blackness. His 12

lessons from his mother are shared by many Black Americans and I would argue

especially Black boys because, as Ibram X. Kendi makes abundantly clear, “Young Black

males were twenty-one times more likely to be killed by police than their White

counterparts between 2010 and 2012, according to federal statistics”. His writing reflects

an emergent genre of BLM literature wherein Black authors share their personal

experiences of growing up in a White America. While not yet defined, I argue that BLM

Literature is a genre that seeks to expose the reality the Black experience is inseparable

from anti-Blackness and anti-Black violence. In addition, the lens of Afropessimism

theorizes about civil society’s dependence on anti-Black violence to maintain power

structures—this dependence on anti-Black violence is evidenced in Laymon’s statement

that “The worst of White folks had an insatiable appetite for virtuoso Black performance

and routine Black suffering”. As Frank B. Wilderson III argues, Afropessimism claims

that anti-Black violence is necessary to reinforce the master-slave dynamic. BLM

Literature writers like Laymon demonstrate the existence of state-sanctioned violence

against Black people and utilize their platform to expose violence and give witness to

anti-Blackness.

In another essay, Laymon further inserts himself into BLM Literature by

showcasing his experience with anti-Black violence, more specifically gun violence. His

essay titled, “How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America,” recalls four separate occasions when he had a gun pulled on him. Laymon’s support for the BLM movement is evident in this essay because on each occasion he juxtaposes his experience with gun violence to those of other Black Americans who had been shot and killed at the hands of

White police officers. For example, he tells the story of a time when he went to 13

McDonald’s with a few friends and held the door for a man in a John Deere hat.

Afterward, the man calls them racial slurs to which Laymon retaliates by cursing back at him. The man is an off-duty and intoxicated police officer who attempts to arrest only

Laymon while holding a gun to his chest (it is important to note Laymon was the only

Black man in the group). Before starting this story Laymon reflects, “I’m seventeen, five years younger than Rekia Boyd will be when she is shot in the head by an off-duty police officer in Chicago in 2012” (35). Laymon compares these two incidents to indicate his intimate relationship and understanding of BLM discourse and calls to action. He wants to point out that what happened to Rekia Boyd was not a one-time incident because it almost happened to him which suggests it happens to others.

The second time he has a gun pulled on him he writes, “Sixteen months later, I’m eighteen, three years older than Edward Evans will be when he is shot in the head behind an abandoned home in Jackson in 2012” (37). Laymon is held at gunpoint by another young Black man who is being told by his gang members to rob him. Interestingly,

Laymon feels calm and expresses a feeling of acceptance if he gets shot when he says

“well I guess bullets enter and hopefully leave my chest”. His calm demeanor and acceptance of his possible fate suggest that he accepts the very real likelihood of being shot. Laymon relates his experience to that of Edward Evans who was not shot by a cop or a White man but by another Black man in his community. Evans was allegedly attempting a home invasion robbery with some other teenage boys. The owner of the house, Cedric Ratliff aimlessly fired into his yard and was not sure he had hit anyone.

Evans’s body was found weeks later in the backyard of an abandoned home. Laymon is consciously aware that, like Evans being shot, there is an ever-present threat in his life 14 and one that would not come as a shock to him. Interestingly, Laymon is illustrating that anti-Black violence is not limited to White police officers shooting unarmed Black people. Instead, Laymon exposes the reality of Black violence within the Black community. Scholar Anthony E. O. King explains why violence is so common in the

Black community in his article “Understanding Violence Among Young African

American Males”. King claims that: “chattel slavery, institutional racism, and intransigent poverty and economic deprivation have contributed to the violence observed in many African American communities” (80). The violence that Laymon experiences within his community, as King confirms, is a result of slavery, institutional racism, and poverty. Laymon’s calm demeanor suggests that violence within the Black community has become normalized and that this violence is part of the Black experience. BLM

Literature seeks to emphasize the Black experience and expose the need for change through this emphasis which Laymon does by retelling the story of violence within his community. Laymon exposes the impact institutional racism, chattel slavery, and poverty have on him and his community while also directly references the BLM movement by comparing his situation to that of Edward Evans.

Laymon continues to talk about his college experience at Millsaps where he wrote for the school paper. He is described as a writer who “consistently editorializes on race issues” (38). While at Millsaps, Laymon receives threats for his writing and later receives backlash from the local fraternities. After a fraternity yells racial slurs at Laymon and his girlfriend Shonda a physical altercation ensues. The University responds by placing

Laymon, Shonda, and two Fraternity members on probation for “racially insensitive language” (39). Interestingly, Laymon is later suspended for borrowing a book from the 15

Library without properly checking it out. During his meeting with the school President,

Laymon reflects, “I am still nineteen, four years older than Hadiya Pendleton will be when she is murdered in Chicago” (40). Hadiya Pendleton was part of a majorette squad from Chicago that was selected to perform at President Barack Obama's second inauguration festivities in 2013 but she was shot and killed during a gang shootout. At this point in his life, Laymon relates to Hadiya because he feels he has missed an opportunity and is not living up to his potential. His mother on more than one occasion asked him if he was afraid to go off to college because he was afraid of being “shot out of the sky”. When Laymon is expelled he is figuratively shot out of the sky. He was not expelled for borrowing a book but because he was stirring up trouble through his writing about the anti-Black racism he saw first-hand at Millsaps. Anti-Blackness runs throughout Laymon’s expulsion because Laymon was never given the chance to explain why he did not properly check out the book and was only being monitored because of the racially charged fight he had with the fraternity. The administration automatically assumed that he was stealing and Laymon felt as though they were looking for any reason to expel him. Similarly, Christina Sharpe depicts her experience in In the Wake: On

Blackness and Being when she was unable to attend her private Catholic school because she no longer received scholarships. She writes: “We went there, that is, until the scholarship money ran out and/or racism proved too much; sometimes the scholarship money ran out because of racism” (3). Laymon’s expulsion can be compared to the way in which zero tolerance policies contribute to institutional racism1. His suspension directly reflects his essay on “the worst of White folks” because the administration that

1 Robbins, Christopher G. “Zero Tolerance and the Politics of Racial Injustice.” The Journal of Negro Education, vol. 74, no. 1, 2005, pp. 2–17. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/40027226. Accessed 23 Apr. 2021 16 expelled Laymon represent this group of people—they are people in power who refuse to acknowledge the existence of White privilege and institutional racism while insisting that we live in a post-racial society.

Laymon continues to point to issues surrounding anti-Black and institutional racism throughout his essays in order to assert that Black lives matter. He describes the fourth time he has a gun pulled on him but this time he pulls the gun on himself. After being expelled from Milsapps, Laymon experiences an overwhelming sense of dread in which he considers killing himself. With the gun to his head, he ponders some of the options that Black men and women have in America that are just other ways of slowly killing themselves:

I'm not the smartest boy in the world by a long shot, but even in my funk I know

that easy remedies like eating your way out of sad, or fucking your way out of

sad, or lying your way out of sad, or slanging your way out of sad, or robbing

your way out of sad, or gambling your way out of sad, or shooting your way out

of sad, are just slower, more acceptable ways for desperate folks, and especially

paroled Black boys in our country, to kill ourselves and others close to us in

America. (44-45)

Laymon expresses the idea that his fate and the fate of other Black Americans are already sealed. There appears to be no escape from the institutional racism that leads to a sense of hopelessness and despair. More specifically, anti-Blackness surrounding his expulsion directly leads to internalized racism. In an essay by April Baker-Bell, she discusses a study she had performed in a classroom that focused specifically on the word association students make with Black Vernacular. Baker-Bell had two columns of sentences; column 17

A represented features of Black Vernacular and column B represented features from

White Mainstream English. The students were then asked to use descriptive words for each column and Baker-Bell noticed that students associated Black vernacular with words like “ghetto” “thug” and “bad” whereas White Mainstream English was associated with words like “smart” and “good”. The connection here is that Baker-Bell exposes how the institution cultivates internalized racism. For example: “according to hooks’ who argued that Black people are socialized within a White supremacist society, White supremacist educational system, and racist mass media that teach us to internalize racism by convincing us that our lives (culture, language, literacies histories, experiences, etc.) are simple and unworthy of sophisticated critical analysis and reflection (12). Laymon’s expulsion from Milsapps was a form of anti-Black racism and this institutional racism directly impacted how he felt about himself. While Baker-Bell is writing specifically about language I think her words are helpful in understanding the devastating impact of internalized racism. In his memoir, Laymon reveals that he struggled with depression just like his mother and grandmother before him. He declares that the vices that he described are just more acceptable ways of killing themselves whether it's through selling drugs, gang violence, or heart disease.

He continues to express the ways in which Black men and women slowly kill themselves by retelling the story of a girl he helped after she was sexually assaulted. The three men who attacked the girl were also Black including her boyfriend which makes

Laymon wonder about himself. He writes:

Without saying anything, we know that whatever is in the boys in that car has to

be in us. We know whatever is encouraging them to kill themselves slowly by 18

knowingly mangling the body and spirit of this shriveling Black girl, is probably

the most powerful thing in our lives. We also wonder if whatever is in us that has

been slowly encouraging us to kill ourselves is also in the heart and mind of the

Black girl on the couch. (46)

Laymon is also alluding to the concept of intergenerational trauma when he expresses this sense of inescapable suffering. He feels as though he is no different from the men who sexually assaulted this girl because no matter how hard he tries to be a good person or get an education he will always be seen the way “the worst of White folks” want to see him.

As I mentioned previously, Anthony E. O. King explores how violence functions among

Black men and boys. He explains the historical, economic, and social factors that essentially lead to self-destructive behavior. For example, “The relatively low value placed on the lives of African American male teenagers and young adults by the larger society makes it even easier for emotionally overwhelmed adolescents and teenagers to grab a gun, a knife, or a bat and use their peers as human depositories for all the pain and frustration in their lives” (89). King’s article helps to clarify how Laymon is feeling at this moment. As King explains, violence among young Black males is nearly unavoidable, and violent behavior is usually a cry for nurturing. Laymon relates to these men because according to King he faces the same struggles that would cause him to become violent or become a victim of violence. He admits that whatever is in those boys is likely in himself as well.

Laymon decides to close out this chapter by alluding to Trayvon Martin which he follows up with a final story about San Berry, Pam McGill, and Azikiwe. He explains that

San Berry attended Millsaps with him and later confessed to kidnapping and shooting 19

Ms. McGill while swearing that a “seventeen-year-old Black named Azikiwe”

encouraged him to do it. Before retelling this story, Laymon writes, “I know that by the time I left Mississippi, I was twenty years old, three years older than Trayvon Martin will be when he is murdered for wearing a hoodie and swinging back in the wrong American

Neighborhood” (48). Trayvon Martin’s death led to the beginnings of the BLM movement after his murderer, George Zimmerman was acquitted. Laymon juxtaposes these two stories because while Azikiwe Kambule was a young Black boy, Pam McGill was a well-respected and loved Black woman. The community was split over the trial because on one side Kambule was not the one who shot McGill but was playing an unwitting role in a deadly car-jacking; however, the other part of the Black community sought justice for Ms. McGill. Laymon places himself in between these two stories because as a Black man he too could be in the wrong place at the wrong time or in a situation that demonizes him even if he did nothing wrong.

Later Laymon describes an interaction he had between himself and his White

neighbor, Kurt, who told him he was not like “his kind”. Kurt insists to Laymon that he is

not racist but Laymon recognizes that Kurt is uneducated and probably believes what he

said was not racist. He writes, “He kept saying it too, absolutely sure he'd give me that

gift that a number of White folks I'd met loved to give Black folks at the strangest times,

the gift of being decidedly different than all them other n—s” (51). Laymon responds to

Kurt by utilizing his education to reply which offends Kurt and he walks away. Laymon

then reflects on Kurt and other White Americans:

If White American entitlement meant anything, it meant that no matter how

patronizing, unashamed, deliberate, unintentional, poor, rich, rural, urban, 20

ignorant, and destructive White Americans could be, Black Americans were still

encouraged to work for them, write to them, listen to them, talk with them, run

from them, emulate them, teach them, dodge them, and ultimately thank them for

not being as fucked up as they could be. (52)

He explains that it doesn't matter that Kurt is uneducated and poor while Laymon holds a

Master’s degree because Kurt will always feel as though he is better than him. Kurt believes that telling Laymon that he is not like other Black folks must be a complement that Laymon should thank him for. Kurt’s comment to Laymon was saturated with anti-Blackness but his White privilege enabled him to expect a thank you. Laymon indicates that no matter what his social status or how educated he was White supremacy still pervades his everyday life. One of the interesting things that Laymon points to in this section is that Black people are still expected to write for White people but his collection of essays suggests that Laymon challenges that expectation. Laymon, instead, is using the platform of his writing to combat anti-Blackness by exposing it and by doing so he is unapologetically showing his support of the BLM movement.

While living in Pennsylvania Laymon, his girlfriend and her friend are pulled over by the police. They told Laymon to get out of the car claiming they saw him throw crack out of the window to which he reflects, “Don’t you think police, teachers, doctors, and dentists should be more just and compassionate than the rest of us? Who protects us from them?” (55) Laymon’s encounter with the police is yet another example of how his writing fits the genre of BLM Literature because he shows how the Black experience cannot be separated from anti-Blackness. He realizes that in this situation there is no one to protect him from the police officer if they decide to shoot him. Tommy Curry’s article 21

"This N—'s Broken: Hyper‐Masculinity, the Buck, and the Role of Physical Disability in

White Anxiety Toward the Black Male Body” analyzes Frantz Fanon’s theory on the

Black man as a phobogenic object. Fanon’s theory essentially explores the

psychoanalysis of White anxiety and fear of Black men by explaining how the White

mind dehumanizing Black men. He writes: “As in Fanon’s analysis, the N—r is not cold;

he is enraged. He intends to eat the child because he is an animal or beast. These

descriptions tell us the extent of White anxiety where the objecthood of the Black male is

cognitively assigned by the White mind’s experiencing of the N—” (325). Fanon depicts

a scenario in which a Black man on the street is shivering because he is cold, however,

the White child who sees him associates his shivering with shaking out of rage instead.

What is most crucial about Curry’s analysis is how he makes the connection between

Fanon’s theory and more current examples of police brutality. For example, “Recent

implicit bias studies have shown that Fanon’s analysis of phobogenesis is in fact correct.

Police officers do in fact perceive Black men and boys as less human and more

immediate and dangerous threats” (326). Curry’s analysis is applicable to Laymon’s

scenario because although he tells the officer that he does not even drink alcohol when

Laymon raises his arms off the dash and the officer immediately reaches for his gun. The

officer associates Laymon with criminal activity which he justifies by stating he saw

Laymon throw drugs out the window. However, his White anxiety becomes prevalent

when a small gesture made by Laymon appears as a threat to the officer's life. His anxiety

and fear of Laymon as a Black man produces a dangerous scenario—the same scenario

that resulted in the killing of Trayvon Martin. Laymon tells himself, “Blackness is probable cause” before he is handcuffed and detained (54). 22

After Laymon is detained by the police who are attempting to frame him for drug possession he begins to succumb to internalized racism. He starts to believe that maybe he is the threatening criminal that the worst of White folks believe him to be. He explains, “Sitting in the back of that police car in handcuffs that had been wrapped around the wrists of many of my kind, I’m wondering if there’s any chance that I am not what, not who, they think I am” (56). Similar to his experience with being expelled from

Milsapps, Laymon wonders if there is anything he can do to overcome the way other people see him. When he helps the Black girl who had been sexually assaulted by three

Black men he wonders if he too could do something like that. The police officers that detain him already believe that he is this person so why does he even try to do better than what and who he is already painted to be.

After the police let Laymon go his friend began reevaluating the situation that had just happened. However, as a White woman, she does not see the situation from the same perspective as Laymon which she makes clear through her word choice. For example,

Laymon explains that her word choice was limited to ‘totally’ and ‘ridiculous’ instead of

‘afraid,’ ‘angry,’ ‘worried,’ ‘complicit,’ ‘tired,’ or ‘ashamed’ (57). Laymon points out that she never uses words like “angry” or “afraid” because as a White woman she likely does not fear for her safety at the hands of police and she does not appear angry when she sees racial injustice firsthand. The friend’s lack of feeling complicit and ashamed speaks to her lack of racial awareness and the danger of colorblind thinking. In “Sighs of Fire

Zimmerman as a Domestic Drone” Vijay Prashad explains how the push for the social policy of multiculturalism “allowed the most talented and fortunate of the oppressed population to become shining emblems of racism’s end” (79). Prashad continues: 23

“Obama is the president, ergo racism is over. What had succeeded over the course of the

1990s and into the 2000s was not anti-racism but multiculturalism, whose success did not

undermine racism. In fact, multiculturalism’s success sharpened racism. Obama’s ascent

sharpened resentment, as does the sight of a Black family in a fancy car. What we live in

now is what Martin Luther King, Jr. called ‘the stagnant equality of sameness’” (79).

Prashad’s analysis is similar to Ibram X. Kendi’s point about the difference between

segregationists, assimilationists, and antiracists where multiculturalism is synonymous

with assimilationist because both push the narrative of accepting racial groups for their

sameness instead of appreciating their differences. The friend does not seem to make the

connection between Lamon’s treatment and anti-Blackness because multiculturalism and

colorblindness do not allow her to see the scenario as a race issue.

In his last essay of the book, Laymon describes his experience trying to get published as a Black writer from the Deep South. He explains that his publisher wanted to change what made his writing what he wanted it to be. For example, Laymon tells his publisher, “‘My book is unapologetically an American race novel, among other things.

I’m still not sure why you bought my book if you didn’t dig my vision’” (128). He finds it odd that his publisher would be surprised that he wrote about race because it has been a large part of his life. His publisher explains “‘There’s way too much racial politics in this piece, bro. You’re writing to a multicultural society, but you're not writing multiculturally” (133) Of course, he ignores the advice of his publisher and becomes a successful writer anyway. Laymon’s dismissal of his publisher is critical because his stories are not about multiculturalism or racism in general; they are drenched in anti-Blackness instead. Specificity places his writing in a completely different genre of 24

BLM Literature because his focus on the function of anti-Black violence and anti-Black prejudice speaks to his specific lived experience that reflects a majority of the Black community. Additionally, Laymon makes explicit references to the BLM Movement by comparing his experience to Black people who were killed due to anti-Black violence such as Edward Evans, Hadiya Pendleton, and Trayvon Martin. Laymon also unapologetically emphasizes the Black experience by portraying the impact internalized racism had on him as a direct result of the anti-Black institutional racism he experienced at Millsaps. Lastly, Laymon shows how White fear and anxiety reinforce anti-Black violence when he is racially profiled by police. His writing falls into this emergent genre because of his allusions to the BLM movement, his emphasis on the Black experience and how this experience is inseparable from anti-Blackness and Black suffering, his emphasis on how the institution reinforces anti-Blackness and White fear, and lastly how his writing indicates a need for systemic and institutional change because he uses it as a platform to expose anti-Blackness and Black suffering as a pattern of violence rather than a series of isolated incidents. 25

Chapter Two

Dismantling the Master’s House without the Master’s Tools

While How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America allows the reader to peek into Laymon’s life and the lives of other Black Americans, his memoir Heavy provides a much deeper look into the trauma he has lived through. His memoir recalls his complex relationships with his mother and women in general as well as his struggles with weight and eating disorders, however, by far the most challenging part of his life is his

Blackness which looms in the back of every situation in his life. The impact of anti-Blackness is prevalent throughout every aspect of his life which is why his memoir falls into the genre of BLM Literature. More specifically, this chapter strives to show how the institution informed how his mother raised Laymon—the belief that Standard

Academic English would liberate them from anti-Blackness. However, Laymon illustrates that his mother’s Ph.D. did not keep her out of poverty, Laymon’s use of SAE did not keep him from being expelled, and SAE did not stop the police from pulling his mother over and seeing teenage Laymon as a threat. In this chapter, I will argue

Laymon’s struggle to find the truth leads to a striking realization that Black language needs to be utilized in order to combat anti-Blackness.

He begins his memoir as if he were speaking directly to his mother about his writing. Automatically, the reader knows that his relationship with her is not only convoluted but also a huge part of what made him the man that he is. For example:

I did not want to write to you. I wanted to write a lie. I did not want to write

honestly about Black lies, Black thighs, Black loves, Black laughs, Black foods,

Black addictions, Black stretch marks, Black dollars, Black words, Black abuses, 26

Black blues, Black belly buttons, Black wins, Black beans, Black bends, Black

consent, Black parents, or Black children. I did not want to write about us. I

wanted to write an American memoir. I wanted to write a lie. (1)

Immediately, he admits to his readers that he wanted to write a lie because it would have been a lot easier than exposing the most intimate details of himself and his relationships.

By juxtaposing that he wanted to write an American novel and that he wanted to write a lie, Laymon admits that his memoir is not simply American but focuses more specifically on his Blackness. Although Laymon is an American, he wants to emphasize the Black experience. He indicates this by portraying how the American novel is often synonymous with Whiteness, for example, he is taught to write by imitating famous White authors for his White teachers. For Laymon, the American memoir would not emphasize Blackness or anti-Blackness but his memoir does. While Laymon admits that his memoir will focus on his Blackness it is also evident that he intends to talk about his experience with anti-Blackness. Natalie Morris’s article on anti-Blackness skillfully describes the central difference between racism geared toward Black people specifically versus People of

Color generally. For example: “But Africanized slavery does differ from other instances of slavery—including that sometimes imposed upon indigenous people in the

Americas—in one crucial aspect: it alone became corporealized, that is, linked to a distinct body type. Put another way, Africanized slavery did not enslave people who happened to be Black; it instead enslaved people solely because they were Black; in so doing, it helped to establish an association between Blackness and Black people and slave status. The category of Blackness came into being and first acquired its coherence only through its association with slavery” (175) Morris explains that Black Americans are 27 associated with chattel slavery distinctly because of their Blackness, therefore, Laymon cannot write about his life without writing about his Blackness and in turn writing about anti-Blackness.

In the next few pages, Laymon unmasks how anti-Blackness functions to complicate and ensnare Black life. However, in order for an audience to fully understand his life he has to disclose everything about his Blackness from “Black lies” to “Black children”. The first page suggests that his memoir focuses primarily on Black lives in every way and shape. He continues:

I wanted to write about how fundamental present Black fathers, responsible Black

mothers, magical Black grandmothers, and perfectly disciplined Black children

are to our liberation. I wanted to center a something, a someone who wants us

dead and dishonest. I wanted White Americans, who have proven themselves

even more unwilling to confront how their lies limit our access to good love,

healthy choices, and second chances. (2)

Here Laymon demonstrates that there is a larger issue facing Black Americans that makes them subject to anti-Black violence. He says that he wanted to write a lie and that lie was that “present Black fathers, responsible Black mothers, magical Black grandmothers, and perfectly disciplined Black children'' are fundamental to their liberation. The truth he wants to expose in his writing is that even with all the above his life is still in danger because of his Blackness. He had a present father, a responsible mother, a loving grandmother, and was a perfectly behaved child but he still faced a lifetime of suffering.

By telling the truth about his life through his memoir Laymon sheds light on the larger 28 issue that even if he does everything right, anti-Black racism at its core will “limit [his] access to good love, healthy choices, and second chances”.

A fundamental part of his memoir focuses on his mother’s relationship with language, more specifically Standard Academic English as well as her expectation that

Laymon always follows the rules of SAE. She believes that speaking and writing

“properly” will allow them to excel in White America without their Blackness being as big of an issue. For example, Laymon explains, “I remember you chiding me not to use contractions when talking to White people and police. I remember believing all your lies were mistakes, and forgetting those mistakes when we woke up tucked into each other.

Every time you said my particular kind of hardheadedness and White Mississippians’ brutal desire for Black suffering were recipes for an early death, institutionalization, or incarceration, I knew you were right’’ (5). Not only does she illustrate how “proper

English'' will provide them with mobility in life but it may keep Laymon out of prison or even an early grave. She wants Laymon to believe that if he sounds “educated” White people may treat him differently and he may avoid being shot by a police officer. While his memoir clearly indicates the role of BLM Literature through his anecdotes, his writing also points to a larger issue. Throughout his memoir he begins to realize that his mother’s belief in SAE would not keep him from almost being shot by the police, it would not keep him from suffering because of his Blackness, and it sometimes even creates scenarios that put him in more danger. For the better half of his life, he believes his mother’s lies but he finds out quickly that language does not keep people from seeing or portraying you the way they want. 29

Laymon’s mother’s insistence on the use of proper English or SAE is historically grounded in anti-Blackness. In fact, many other Black philosophers and theorists produced works analyzing the role of SAE such as James Baldwin and Vershawn Ashanti

Young. Similar to, but separate from SAE, is Frantz Fanon’s book Black Skin, White

Masks. He dedicates the entire first chapter on language called “The Negro and

Language” where he editorializes the function of the French colonizer’s language on the colonized peoples in the Antilles. For example, he writes: “Every colonized people—in other words, every people in whose soul an inferiority complex has been created by the death and burial of its local cultural originality—finds itself face to face with the language of the civilizing nation; that is, with the culture of the mother country. The colonized is elevated above his jungle status in proportion to his adoption of the mother country’s cultural standards. He becomes Whiter as he renounces his Blackness, his jungle” (9). While Fanon’s work centers on the French, his theory is easily applied to the slaves brought to the Americas as they were similarly colonized. The notion he presents is that the colonized people are always forced to adopt the language of the colonizer and in doing so they become more like the colonizer. Interestingly, Baldwin’s essay “If Black

English Isn’t a Language, Then Tell Me, What is?” provides a more focused analysis of

Black Americans and language where he also explains why Black Vernacular came into existence. He writes:

I say that the present skirmish is rooted in American history, and it is. Black

English is the creation of the Black diaspora. Blacks came to the United States

chained to each other, but from different tribes: Neither could speak the other's

language. If two Black people, at that bitter hour of the world's history, had been 30

able to speak to each other, the institution of chattel slavery could never have

lasted as long as it did. Subsequently, the slave was given, under the eye, and the

gun, of his master, Congo Square, and the Bible—or in other words, and under

these conditions, the slave began the formation of the Black church, and it is

within this unprecedented tabernacle that Black English began to be formed.

While the term diaspora is often applied to the Jewish people’s dispersion from Israel,

Baldwin makes a crucial point about Black English that is unique to Black Americans.

He notes that chattel slavery was only as successful and as profitable as it was because slaves could not communicate which would eventually lead to the new language of Black

English or Black Vernacular. Even though Black English is a recognized language of its own, Black students continue to be taught that it is a lesser form of SAE or it is improper.

This narrative sets intelligent Black students up for failure as a part of institutional racism and anti-Blackness. Vershawn Ashanti Young’s article “Should Writers Use They Own

English” sheds light on the pedagogical impacts of insisting Black English is not a language. His article specifically targets a paper written by Stanley Fish in which he condemns Black English to which Young responds, “And Fish himself acquiesce to this linguistic prejudice when he come saying that people make theyselves targets for racism if and when they dont write and speak like he do. But dont nobody’s language, dialect, or style make them “vulnerable to prejudice.” It’s ATTITUDES. It be the way folks with some power perceive other people’s language. Like the way some view, say, Black

English when used in school or at work. Black English dont make it own-self oppressed”

(110). He argues that Fish also is unable to follow SAE perfectly and that Fish’s whole argument is anti-Black racism. While Fish insists that the use of Black English is fine at 31

home, he asserts it should not be used in school or the workplace. However, Young

responds by famously arguing that code-meshing be implemented in schools in order to

combat anti-Blackness. These writers are imperative to Laymon’s memoir and my thesis

because much of his attention in his memoir is centered on the function of language. His

mother’s role as a Professor as well as his own role as a writer and Professor help to

create more conflict between SAE and Black English. Laymon’s mother raises him to

value SAE over Black Vernacular Language (BVL), however, both of them still

experience anti-Blackness. Laymon’s memoir indicates that the system itself is racist

because BVL is a crucial part of cultural sovereignty and his mother’s condemnation of

BVL signifies a sense of internalized racism.

Although his mother’s theory may not have kept Laymon from experiencing

anti-Black racism, it did help him progress academically. In addition, he bonded with his

mother through books, language, and writing. For example, he writes: “The presence of

all those books, all that laughter, all our lies, and I read, reread, write, and revise in those

books, made it so I would never be intimidated or easily impressed by words,

punctuation, sentences, paragraphs, chapters, and White space” (9). Laymon’s mother set

him up to feel comfortable in White spaces like the University; his reliance on SAE did

not shield him from the anti-Blackness that got him expelled from Millsaps.

Laymon writes about Black excellence and Black abundance that his mother taught him. He explains that when he was younger he genuinely believed in these two things but as time went on it began to feel like no matter what he did he would always feel inferior. His mother wanted him to write a report on “Jim Crow and freedom strategies used by Black elected officials in Mississippi, post-Reconstruction” (26). 32

Laymon’s mother took his refusal to write the essay as, “another tired example of refusing to strive for Black excellence, education, and accountability when excellence, education, and accountability were requirements for keeping the insides of Black boys in

Mississippi healthy and safe from White folk” (27). His mother’s effort to help Laymon achieve Black excellence is noted in her condemnation of anything other than “proper

English”. Interestingly, her condemnation is similar to Fanon’s analysis of the creole language, “The middle class in the Antilles never speak Creole except to their servants. In school, the children of Martinique are taught to scorn the dialect. One avoids Creolisms.

Some families completely forbid the use of Creole, and mothers ridicule their children for speaking it” (10). However, Laymon realizes that no amount of Black excellence or education would keep people from seeing him as a threat. For example, in How to Slowly

Kill Yourself and Others in America Laymon explains that he was still stopped by the police who claim to have seen him throw drugs out of the window and he is detained. His education and the little money he made as a Teaching Assistant did not stop a gang member from pulling a gun on him during an attempted robbery and his “proper English'' did not stop Kurt from spouting racist nonsense at him about how he was “different from his kind”.

Although Laymon would eventually learn how his mother’s theory about Black excellence and “proper English'' would not make a huge difference in his life, his mother still firmly believed it would change hers. For example, he writes: “You were the only local Black political scientist on TV during election season talking about politics. The way you overpronunced your words, defended poor Black communities in the face of

White resentment, and insisted on correcting everyone whose subjects and verbs didn’t 33 agree made Black folk in Jackson think we had plenty of lunch money, gas money, rent money, and light bill money” (32). While his mother’s education and hard work helped her achieve some of her goals it did not keep them from living in poverty. On the outside the Black people in Jackson may have believed that she was successful and had plenty of money for all their necessities; the reality was that they could not even afford to keep the lights on. She had worked tirelessly for a Ph.D. only to likely be stuck with a mountain of debt and a job that paid her 62 cents for every dollar a White man with the same credentials made. Her success did not keep her from what Laymon refers to as slowly killing herself by attempting to “gamble her way out of sad”. Laymon’s point is that his mother’s hard work at perfecting SAE did not shield her from anti-Black racism. For example, Fanon writes, “Historically, it must be understood that the Negro wants to speak

French because it is the key that can open doors which were still barred to him fifty years ago” (25). Similar to the Black men in the Antilles learning French, Laymon’s mother believes SAE will open doors for her, however, she continues to struggle. The story of his mother’s struggle against adversity speaks to BLM Literature because it illustrates the impact of racial inequality. BLM Literature seeks to portray the role that institutional racism plays on Black life especially with regard to how language functions. Laymon’s mother is told if she follows the rules of the system and institution she will be elevated, however, Laymon’s memoir seeks to expose this as a falsehood by emphasizing the reality of the Black experience even when all the rules are followed.

Although she continues to teach her son about Black excellence it seems as though she knows that it will not wholly change the way the world functions but it just may keep him from some pain and suffering. For example, she tells Laymon: “‘Be twice 34 as excellent and be twice as careful from this point on,’ you said. ‘Everything you thought you knew changes tomorrow. Being twice as excellent as White folk will get you half of what they get. Being anything less will get you hell” (69). His mother knows that even if Laymon works twice as hard as White folks he may still achieve only half of what they might, however, she continues to push him toward a better life. Through his writing about his mother, Laymon portrays her genuine fear for his safety. Her fear for his safety from White people speaks to BLM Literature as it suggests anti-Black violence is a part of the Black experience and implicitly references the movement as she indicates her fear he will be incarcerated or killed. . I assert that one of the key characteristics of BLM

Literature is illustrating how the condemnation of BVL is a form of institutional racism and therefore indicates the need for change. As Baker-Bell has indicated White language supremacy causes internalized racism and the lived experience of Laymon and his mother shows that SAE does not help them achieve liberation from oppression as they continue to live in poverty while circumnavigating anti-Black racism and violence.

Later in his memoir, Laymon illustrates the story of when his mother was pulled over by a police officer. Laymon describes in detail how his mother reacted at this moment and how she always reacted when pulled over. He details “the rules” that must be followed in order to remain alive in this situation and he explains how his mother did not use contractions when she spoke to the officer. After the officer let them go she explained to him, “‘If I did not know correct English, it’s more likely that police officer might have shot us,’” (83). He told his mother that he believed that her speaking “proper

English” actually made the officer angrier and he asked her if she believed it could actually save her. Laymon’s question is significant to Baldwin’s theory in which he 35 writes, “The argument concerning the use, or the status, or the reality, of Black English, is rooted in American history and has absolutely nothing to do with the question the argument supposes itself to be posing. The argument has nothing to do with language itself but with the role of language. Language, incontestably, reveals the speaker.

Language, also, far more dubiously, is meant to define the other—and, in this case, the other is refusing to be defined by a language that has never been able to recognize him”

Laymon’s mother insists that if she speaks proper English she will remain safe because she will appear educated and less of a threat. The object of her mastery of the language is to appear more White as well; as Fanon points out “To speak a language is to take on a world, a culture. The Antilles Negro who wants to be White will be the Whiter as he gains greater mastery of the cultural tool that language is” (25). She responds by telling him that she is not the endangered species. Laymon’s mother knows that he is more likely to be killed by the police than she is and the lessons she teaches him are for his sake more than her own. She knows that to a cop Laymon appears as more of a threat than herself which is evidenced when the officer asks for Layons identification. Laymon explains,

“Your hands came off the steering wheel and you pointed at the officer’s face. ‘Move away from my car,’ you said. ‘That is my child and he is fifteen years old’” (82).

Laymon’s mother breaks one of the rules by taking her hands off the steering wheel but she does this to protect him. She knows that even though Laymon is only fifteen years old, to the cop he is already a threat. As Balwin explains, “It goes without saying, then, that language is also a political instrument, means, and proof of power. It is the most vivid and crucial key to identify: It reveals the private identity, and connects one with, or divorces one from, the larger, public, or communal identity. There have been, and are 36 times, and places, when to speak a certain language could be dangerous, even fatal”.

Although Laymon and his mother utilize SAE as a tool to avoid anti-Black violence it does not help them from what I introduced in the first chapter regarding White fear. For instance, Curry writes: “The fear of Whites then imposes itself on Black males, forcing

Black men and boys to struggle against White delusion to achieve social recognition”

(325). Black men are still seen as phobogenic objects in the racist White mind and the use of SAE will not change this White delusion.

Later in his memoir, Laymon lists some of the other rules that Black Americans follow in order to stay safe. The examples he uses are a direct allusion to the BLM movement. For example, he writes: “no Black hoodies in wrong neighborhoods, no jogging at night, hands in plain sight at all times in public, no intimate relationships with

White women, never driving over the speed limit or doing those rolling stops at stop signs, always speaking the King's English in the presence of White folks, never being outperformed in school or in public by White students, and, most importantly, always remembering that no matter what, the worst of White folks will do anything to get you”

(102). Trayvon Martin was shot for wearing a hoodie in the wrong neighborhood in 2013.

Ahmaud Arbery was shot for “running while Black” in 2020. Emmett Till was lynched in

Mississippi in 1955 for allegedly flirting with a White woman. However, these are just a few examples that come to mind through Laymon’s writing. One of the rules that he mentions directly reflects what his mother taught him, which is to always speak the

King’s English in the presence of White people. Even though most White people do not

“speak the King’s English” his mother instills in him that he must be twice as excellent in order to stay alive. The last thing he writes refers back to How to Slowly Kill Yourself and 37

Others in America; the worst of White folks will do anything to get you which is exactly what happened to Laymon when he was expelled from college for “stealing” a library book. Laymon is indicating just how dangerous White fear is to Black people by acknowledging those who were killed because they were seen as a threat. In addition, explores how that fear is not limited to physical violence but can ultimately limit progress in life like being expelled from school. One of the many functions of BLM Literature is that the authors also make explicit or implicit references to the BLM movement. By referencing Black people directly linked to the BLM movement Laymon is validating and affirming the struggle while also giving weight and evidence to the BLM call for action by demonstrating how anti-Blackness is pervasive in the everyday lives of Black people.

Laymon also points directly to the function of institutional racism of teaching

SAE. For example, he writes: “I loved those sentences, but I didn’t understand the difference between ‘writing to’ and ‘writing for’ anyone. No one ever taught me to write to and for my people. They taught me how to imitate Faulkner and how to write to and for my teachers. And all of my teachers were White” (106). He was taught in school to imitate White writers like Faulkner or to impress his White teachers with how well he can write “proper English.” However, “proper English” inculcates the idea that Black vernacular is “improper” or that Black language is less than. For example, as Jennifer M.

Cunningham explains, “African American Language (also called Ebonics, African

American Vernacular English, Black English, broken English, bad English, or slang) has been discounted as a lesser form of communication than other forms of spoken and written English. Our society perpetuates this stigma, remaining uninformed or misinformed about its linguistic complexity” (89). Flawed pedagogical practices forced 38

Laymon to feel as though he could only write to a White audience instead of inspiring other future Black writers. The institutional racism he faced is even more apparent in his description of his college experience: “In class, I only spoke when I could be an articulate defender of Black people. I didn’t use the classroom to ask questions. I didn’t use the classroom to make ungrounded claims” (123). As one of the few Black students at

Millsaps College Laymon felt the need to represent all Black people by being “twice as excellent” and not giving anyone the excuse to “shoot him out of the sky”. However, his experiences finally brought him to the conclusion that he should be writing to and for a

Black audience. He explains, “After reading Bambara, I wondered for the first time how great an American sentence, paragraph, or book could be if it wasn’t, at least partially, written to and for Black Americans in the Deep South” (131). He feels that if you are not writing to or for Black Americans your writing cannot be great if you are missing such a significant demographic. Although he received backlash from his publisher, Laymon still wrote the stories that he needed to write and he wrote them for Black Americans in the

Deep South.

While never directly stated, Kiese Laymon’s memoir Heavy is informed by the

BLM movement. Although the genre has not been confirmed yet, Laymon shows how

Black Vernacular and language can and should progress the BLM movement. His personal experiences expose the need for writing that speaks to and for Black Americans.

Fanon explains, “To speak a language is to take on a world, a culture. The Antilles Negro who wants to be White will be the Whiter as he gains greater mastery of the cultural tool that language is” (25). However, this idea is in conflict with Andre Lorde’s famous theory that “the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house” (2). Laymon and his 39 mother both attempt to use SAE as a tool to achieve success in life, however, Laymon achieved true success when he left that idea behind and used Black language to tell Black stories. 40

Chapter Three The Danger of The White Imaginary and Colorblind thinking: How Microaggressions in White Spaces Perpetuate White Hierarchical Thinking

In this chapter, I evaluate some interactions that Claudia Rankine describes in Just

Us where she experiences microaggressions in White spaces. I also unpack how Rankine begins by introducing the danger of colorblindness and post-racial thinking because lack of awareness of anti-Black racism leads to viewing Black death as normative.

Furthermore, I analyze the language that Rankine utilizes to introduce the concept of the

White imaginary and explain how this concept is dangerous because it promotes White dominance and White hierarchical thinking.

Rankine is an American poet, essayist, playwright, and editor of several anthologies. In addition, it is crucial to note her work with “The Racial Imaginary

Institute”—as one of the top curators for the Institute Rankine takes part in enlisting art exhibitions, readings, dialogues, lectures, performances, and screenings that engage the subject of race. The purpose of the Institute is in the name, “‘racial imaginary’[which] is meant to capture the enduring truth of race: it is an invented concept that nevertheless operates with extraordinary force in our daily lives, limiting our movements and imaginations”. Her work with The Racial Imaginary Institute is critical because it seeks to provide a space for conversation about the function of race. The Institute claims that race is a social construct, an imaginary narrative passes as “truth” and yet still impacts daily life. As part of her work with the Institute, Rankine offers an article on the White

Imaginary called “One Whiteness and the Racial Imaginary” where she discusses what

White writers do when they portray characters of color, more specifically the harm they cause by portraying characters of color negatively. Her work with the Institute and the 41

White imaginary are critical because she speaks to the danger of the White imaginary in

her book Just Us. I argue her book should be considered for the emergent genre of BLM

Literature because she highlights the impact that microaggressions have on Black lives

including her own. More specifically, she exposes the danger of the White imaginary and

colorblind thinking because they reinforce anti-Black violence.

Just Us is Rankine’s most recently published work making it a crucial piece of art that reflects the current political climate. Her writing primarily focuses on personal anecdotes that explore racial injustices that she has experienced herself or witnessed happening to others. Her experiences range from subtle instances of “well-meaning” racism to being referred to by racial slurs. However, each story she shares asserts that her writing belongs in the BLM Literature genre because Rankine illustrates the ways in which Black lives so often seem to matter less than others. For example, she begins by sharing the story of the response she received from White men when she was riding in

First Class on an airplane. She makes a note of how she was treated and received in this

“White space” while comparing her experience with those of other well-known scenarios from the news or social media. Rankine clarifies that one man, in particular, continues to get up to grab things from the overhead compartment while making eye contact with her.

She adds that it reminds her of the article “Whiteness as Property” by Cheryl Harris that she teaches in her class. She writes, “Racial profiling becomes another sanctioned

method of segregating space. Harris goes on to explain how much White people rely on

these benefits, so much so that their expectations inform the interpretations of our laws.

‘Stand your ground’ laws, for example, mean Whites can claim that fear made them kill

an unarmed Black person” (25). Rankine compares the reactions of the White men in 42

First Class to Harris’s article to illustrate a subconscious need to segregate what feels like a White space. I am reminded here of the work by Curry discussed in the previous chapters. Curry analyzes Fanon’s theory of the Black man as a phobogenic object and acknowledges the dangers of the White fear and anxiety. The work that Rankine is doing with “The Racial Imaginary Institute” is valuable in the discourse because they contend that there is no space in which race is not a factor. Throughout Just Us Rankine refers more specifically to the White Imaginary which is comparable to Curry’s analysis of

White anxiety. In short, the White imagination with regard to Black men and women does not exist without fear or anxiety as a result of chattel slavery. In this particular moment on the plane, Rankine is observing a situation in which she is being evaluated in a space predominantly occupied by White men. Next, Rankine compares her situation to White people calling the police on their neighbors for being Black in a mostly White neighborhood. Additionally, she exposes the danger that is imposed on Black bodies when racial profiling happens because White people rely on the privilege of segregated space so much so that laws are interpreted in order to benefit them. For example, ‘stand your ground’ laws protected George Zimmerman from prison after shooting teenager

Trayvon Martin for existing in a presumed White space. Zimmerman in the moment of the shooting saw Martin as a threat in the same way that Fanon describes the White child who mistakes a Black man’s shivering from cold as a sign of rage: “As in Fanon’s analysis, the N— is not cold; he is enraged. He intends to eat the child because he is an animal or beast. These descriptions tell us the extent of White anxiety where the objecthood of the Black male is cognitively assigned by the White mind’s experiencing of the N—” (325). Although Rankine does not explicitly reference Martin here, she does 43 allude to his death and the death of other unarmed Black people indicating her intimate understanding of the BLM discourse as well as her support for the movement which is a fundamental part of BLM Literature. Furthermore, she emphasizes the Black experience here by illustrating the danger of the White imaginary in what is an imagined White space—First Class—although Rankine is meant to be there, she is still stared at as if she were “an animal or beast”.

In another scenario, Rankine illustrates a separate time she was sitting next to a

White man on a plane. She admits to feeling a sense of comfort with him when she explains that he felt as though he could be a friend and begins to recant the conversation they had mid-flight. Her companion tells her that he does not see color to which she explains, “This is a statement for well-meaning White people whose privilege and blind desire catapult them into a time when little Black children and little White children are judged not ‘by the color of their skin but by the content of their character’” (49). While this man and anyone else who would utter the phrase “I don’t see color” often only have the best intentions, Rankine clarifies that the statement is no longer useful to the discourse on race. In fact, the phrase has become detrimental because if you cannot see race you cannot see racism; colorblind thinking allows for anti-Black violence and racism, such as police shooting unarmed Black men, to become normalized because it is not seen as a race issue. Her allusion to Martin Luther King Junior’s “I Have a Dream” speech where he envisioned a world where people did not see color and we were only judged by our actions suggests she believes that his dream remains just a dream. We do not live in a post-racial society where skin color is no longer a factor and while King had the right idea, many more years of Black suffering and oppression would prove that the 44 dream of a colorblind world is problematic. Rankine’s thoughts on the matter are akin to

Morrison’s article “Home” from The House that Race Built: “I have never lived, nor has any of us, in a world in which race did not matter. Such a world, one free of racial hierarchy, is usually imagined or described as dreamscape—Edenesque, utopian, so remote are the possibilities of its achievement. From Martin Luther King's hopeful language, to Doris Lessing's four-gated city, to Jean Toomer's "American," the race-free world has been posited as ideal, millennial, a condition possible only if accompanied by the Messiah or situated in a protected preserve—a wilderness park”. Her work with “The

Racial Imaginary Institute” is valid here because while race is a seemingly “invented concept” it continues to impact our lives. Following the White man on the plane's statement, Rankine thinks to herself, “All I could think to say was ‘Ain’t I a Black woman?’ I asked the question slowly, as if testing the air quality. Did he get the riff on

Sojourner Truth [...] ‘Can’t you see that? Because if you can’t see race, you can’t see racism’” (51). Truth's famous speech “Ain’t I a Woman” exposed the difference in treatment between White women and Black women which begged the question if Black women were considered women at all. Rankine’s allusion to Truth is relevant because in the fight for women’s rights Black women were not included because they were not seen as women. By alluding to Truth, Rankine solidifies the idea that colorblindness, post-racial thinking, and intersectional oppression are dangerous because if you cannot see Blackness you cannot see anti-Blackness, therefore anti-Black violence is just general violence. Similarly, if someone cannot see color or race they cannot see the oppression, injustice, or imbalances in the system caused by racism. 45

Interestingly, after the flight and conversation, Rankine and the unnamed White man kept in contact with each other. She explains that before she published her book she asked for him to respond about what she had written about their conversation. He happily obliged and admitted in his letter that he unintentionally played off the racial tension in his childhood between White kids and Black kids because he had wanted to forget about these incidents. Rankine argues that although he was not personally involved in these altercations they likely caused a lingering negative feeling about his hometown because he never intended on moving back after graduating. Rankine reflects on his letter and writes, “If White people keep forgetting to remember that Black lives matter, as they clearly do given their acceptance of everything from racist comments by friends and colleagues to the lack of sentencing of most police officers who kill unarmed Blacks, to more structural racist practices, then they will always be surprised when those memories take hold” (55). First, Rankine explicitly references the Black Lives Matter movement here in her writing, although she does not capitalize the phrase, this section indicates that her book is BLM Literature. She uses this portion of her writing as a nod in support of the movement while explaining how White allies are valuable to the fight. While her friend on the plane may not have been racist, he was also not an antiracist in the way that he easily moved away from tense or uncomfortable racially charged spaces. While all White people may not be racist, Rankine points out that many listen to “racist comments by friends and colleagues” and do nothing; they watch the news about police officers walking free after killing unarmed Black people but are then surprised when retaliation such as protests or riots occur because they refused to acknowledge the continuing anti-Black racism happening all around them. Her letters back and forth to the man on the 46 plane confirm the danger of colorblind thinking because the man never noticed anti-Black racism happening around him because he did not see color. In fact, colorblind thinking leads to viewing Black death as normative. Christina Sharpe provides commentary on the societal reaction to the killings of unarmed Black people as well that speak to

Wilderson’s theory of Afropessimism. For example:

Joy James and João Costa Vargas ask in “Refusing Blackness-as-Victimization:

Trayvon Martin and the Black Cyborgs”: “What happens when instead of

becoming enraged and shocked every time a Black person is killed in the United

States, we recognize Black death as a predictable and constitutive aspect of this

democracy? What will happen then if instead of demanding justice we recognize

(or at least consider) that the very notion of justice… produces and requires Black

exclusion and death as normative” (James and Costa Vargas 2012, 193). The

ongoing state-sanctioned legal and extralegal murders of Black people are

normative and, for this so-called democracy, necessary; it is the ground we walk

on. And that it is the ground lays out that, and perhaps how, we might begin to

live in relation to this requirement for our death. What kinds of possibilities for

rupture might be opened up? What happens when we proceed as if we know this,

anti-Blackness, to be the ground on which we stand, the ground from which we to

attempt to speak, for instance, an ‘I’ or a ‘we’ who know, an ‘I’ or a ‘we’ who

care? (italics mine, 7)

For the man on the plane to not have consciously noticed the anti-Black racism in his hometown is a critical aspect of the theory of Afropessimism. Not only is Black death necessary for democracy but it is crucial for White people to continue to view Black 47 death as a normal function of civil society. Black death is a necessary part of keeping the power structures in place just as much as White ignorance of anti-Blackness is a part of sustaining racial hierarchy. Furthermore, this leads to people viewing the BLM movement as unnecessary because anti-Black violence is not viewed as a race issue.

Rankine goes on to talk about other friends in her life after discussing her marriage. She explains that her White friend tells her that she feels the need to defend

Rankine’s ideas to some of her other White friends and goes as far as to say that some of these friends find Rankine’s ideas “radical”. She writes: “Another White friend tells me she has to defend me all the time to her White friends who think I’m a radical. Why? For calling White people White? For not wanting unarmed Black people to be gunned down in our streets or Black girls to be flung across classrooms and thrown to the ground by officers” (93). The first problem that she notes about her friend's comment is that she does not feel her ideas are radical if all she is doing is pointing out that White people are

White. Secondly, she does not feel as though her ideas are radical but rather a human reaction to not wanting to see or hear about police brutality especially involving a child.

Rankine continues to say that she does not want her friend to defend her because it should not be necessary in the first place. Lastly, Rankine adds this short conversation to her writing because it indicates how even “well-meaning” White people who she considers friends do not seem to fully understand that Black lives matter. Interestingly, Rankine is doing the opposite of what Wilderson refers to as “making our White friends comfortable”. He writes: “Making our White friends feel safe in our presence made them think that we were somehow evolved in a way that the Black people they saw burning down the cities in the 1960s were not” (70). Rankine does not feel the need to defend 48

herself to other White people and certainly does not feel the need to apologize for her

support of the BLM movement. She does not feel the need to prove she is somehow

evolved compared to some violent BLM protestors because her “radical” support for the

movement does not make her points less valid. She reflects on the pain that stories of

police brutality have had on her personally and argues that these things should not be

happening, however, even those closest to her cannot fully understand the urgency. In this scenario, Rankine illustrates how microaggressions impact the Black experience but this does not stop her from unapologetically emphasizing the Black experience and how these microaggressions are a form of anti-Blackness that is a normal part of Black life.

Rankine continues to explain how colorblind thinking is pervasive in our society and in turn how this thinking is actually problematic rather than progressive. For example, Rankine reflects on a parent-teacher conference that she attended at her daughter’s school with her White husband. This particular story indicates how the institution reinforces White hierarchical thinking and directly impacts Black lives.

Rankine admits the intense anxiety she felt about attending the meeting, knowing that her daughter attended a primarily White school run by mostly White staff, administrators, and teachers. Interestingly, she reflects that it was her husband who made a remark about the lack of teachers of color when they entered the gymnasium instead of her. However, she knows that this remark may have been prompted by her existence and would not sit with him the same way it would sit with her as a woman of color. She explains: “Looking around, I wonder about all the White parents surrounding me. Are any of them anxious that these White teachers are overrepresenting the race of their child and therefore affirming White dominance and White hierarchical thinking? Are any concerned that 49 these White teachers, with their overwhelming representation of Whiteness, are confirming the racist structures we are all subject to? What is my aim here?” (97).

Rankine is reflecting on something that likely no other White person in the room except for her husband was reflecting on. Even still, she admits, her husband may have only reflected on this fact because his wife is a Black woman and his daughter is mixed race.

Additionally, Rankine points to the immense privilege of the group of parents and teachers which stems not only from their overrepresentation but the simple fact that they do not need to think about the structure. Rankine demonstrates the problem of colorblindness in schools by examining when the structure of the institution benefits you then you do not see how it puts Others at a disadvantage. The lack of representation at the school confirms racial structures because it is evident that people of color were not given equal opportunities to teach at this particular school. White hierarchical thinking is continued through pedagogy when only White teachers are hired then we continue to teach students the way we have always taught them. Rankine’s thought process in this scenario is crucial because her readers see that as a Black woman she notices these things daily and not because she is an academic but because she is Black. The language Rankine uses here is purposeful, for example, she wonders if any of the White parents would feel

“anxious” about the racial imbalance in teachers. Her word choice shows that the racial imbalance does make her anxious but in addition, refers back to White anxiety, meaning would White parents feel the same way she is feeling if the teachers of the school were predominantly Black. Rankine illustrates that this anxiety is only present in spaces where a White person feels threatened or the power structure is threatened. 50

In addition, Rankine exposes the danger of institutional racism by reflecting on how the surplus of White teachers, “affirms White dominance and White hierarchical thinking”. Referring back to some of the points I made in my second chapter, I think it is valid to once again look at the importance of language in the institution. White dominance and White hierarchical thinking are evidenced in Young’s essay when he speaks specifically about writing: “Standard language ideology is the belief that there is one set of dominant language rules that stem from a single dominant discourse (like standard English) that all writers and speakers of English must conform to in order to communicate effectively. Dominant language ideology also say peeps can speak whateva the heck way they want to—BUT AT HOME!” (111) Dominant language ideology hinders progress in the fight against racism because it is not inclusive. People from all cultures who speak many different languages are taught the “right” way to speak and write in English which perpetuates institutional racism. Non-White students are encouraged and expected to code-switch when they attend school whereas Young advocates for code-meshing in schools. He argues that this is because students with a language barrier or students who use BVL may be held back or receive poorer grades than White students which then results in a lack of access to higher education. Therefore,

Rankine’s thoughts on how the school affirms White dominance and White hierarchical thinking point to the anti-Blackness in predominantly White schools as well as the gatekeeping in higher education. Rankine wonders immediately if the school, teachers, or parents even notice the racial imbalance; the fact that the imbalance is not addressed indicates how colorblindness permeates the institution which is dangerous to students of color because racial injustices go unnoticed when race itself goes unnoticed. Unlike the 51 mostly White audience of the parent-teacher conference, Rankine does not have the luxury of ignoring the fact that she is the only Black woman in the room, further affirming that Black Lives Matter, Black representation matters, and Black success matters.

Rankine confirms her thoughts about White anxiety when she explains how the parent-teacher conference reminded her of the recent debate on the integration of public schools in District 3 of New York City that would integrate students from the Upper West

Side and South Harlem. She explains that many White parents experienced anxiety that their child would lose a seat at their school to make room for other students with lower test scores who qualified for free and reduced lunch. While the arguments flew back and forth, one comment that continued to be thrown around was that ‘they are just kids’ to which Rankine responds: “The phrase ‘they are just kids’ exists with the unspoken

‘except when they are Black’. The full thought lives beneath the civility of more Whites than can be imagined and many ‘exceptional’ people of color whose economics bring them closer to the identification with White dominance and anti-Black racism. There also exist Blacks who are embarrassed by Black and brown poverty because they see life through the judging lenses of White discrimination and understand their own exceptionalism as tenuous inasmuch as its optics are stained by a disadvantaged Black population at large. We are a sad lot churning inside the repetitions and insistences of the

‘afterlife of slavery’” (103). In this section, it is not colorblindness that is the danger but instead the White imaginary. For White parents, the fear and anxiety that their children would lose a seat to Black and Brown children are overwhelming. In the White imaginary, even Black and Brown children are a threat to White dominance. In the White 52 imaginary, these children are the phobogenic object; they are poor students with lower test scores and because of this, they are a threat to the White child. The White imaginary is not logical because it does not view this scenario as an equal opportunity for all children to have access to a good education but instead, the integration of schools poses a threat to White hierarchical thinking. Interestingly, Rankine observes that it is not only

White parents who present anxiety in situations like these but also“exceptional people of color” who have had great success in the dominant White culture in America. She rationalizes that there are Black people who experience internalized racism which causes them to be embarrassed or ashamed of other Black and Brown people who struggle financially. In fact, this internalized racism is a direct result of institutional racism; for

Laymon, the internalized racism he felt came from being expelled from school but

Rankine is pointing out that internalized racism can also come from being successful in spite of institutional racism. Internalized racism is extremely detrimental as well because it reinforces post-racial thinking. For example, if some Black and Brown people can make it out of poverty and become “exceptional people of color” then racism must be a myth and anyone who argues differently is making excuses.

Later, Rankine emphasizes how anti-Blackness permeates the Black experience by illustrating another microaggression she directly observed. Rankine and another White friend attend a play that focuses on thinking about race; additionally, her friend admits she is interested in thinking about Whiteness. Near the end of the play, the Black actress on the stage asks all of the White people in the audience to join her on the stage thus breaking the fourth wall. When Rankine’s White female friend does not comply and remains in her seat, Rankine begins to question not only the reason for her friend 53 remaining in her seat but also what the playwright meant to gain from this conditional request. For example, she wonders if the playwright expected some White audience members to remain seated and what that might mean, or maybe they expected some

Black audience members to join her on the stage. When her friend remained seated

Rankine thought: “Why won’t she do what was asked? I can’t understand why she can’t do such a simple thing. Why can’t she see it matters? Does it matter? In the sense that race matters, her refusal feels like an insistence on full ownership of the entire theater”

(197). Rankine feels as though she relates to the cast member in some way but wonders if her feelings of betrayal by her friend are because she is Black, a woman, or an artist.

Either way, Rankine feels the betrayal and she wonders why it made her feel this way.

She comes to the conclusion that it is because race matters and her friend’s lack of compliance seems to insist that race does not matter. While Rankine’s working with “The

Racial Imaginary Institute” claims that race is a social construct, it also affirms that race impacts our daily lives. For Rankine, the friend's dismissal of the requests felt like a dismissal of the social construction of race as a whole. However, this once again speaks to the impact of colorblind thinking because the friend did not see this as a race issue she then could not see how it felt to Rankine. Rankine portrays how microaggressions like these are part of the Black experience and confirms that anti-Blackness is part of that experience. In fact, the last line says; “her refusal feels like an insistence on full ownership of the entire theater” which speaks to how anti-Blackness is necessary for maintaining White power structure because she felt her friend’s refusal as her taking ownership of the whole theater. Her friend's action or lack thereof signals her own White 54 privilege—she does not get up because she does not have to or because she does not want to get up.

In the chapter entitled “boys will be boys”, Rankine reflects on an interaction she observed between a White couple at the airport. In this chapter, Rankine confirms the ideas of “The Racial Imaginary Institute” because she illustrates how race is critical in our daily lives. Rankine describes a White woman running up to the gate as they began to board to which her husband asked “Are you stupid?”. Rankine explains that the man had said this loud enough for those around the couple to hear and interestingly the woman does not respond to the public verbal abuse. In fact, no one in the vicinity said or did anything about his comment which speaks volumes about White privilege. Rankine related the importance of the scenario to the current political stage which had been dominated by the Brett Kavanaugh hearing. During his confirmation hearing, Kavanaugh was accused of sexual assault, however, became a Supreme Court Justice shortly afterward. Although Rankine clarifies that she would never say that a “particular White man stands in for all White men” the juxtaposition between Kavanaugh and the man who verbally assaults his wife in public is relevant in confirming how White privilege is visible from small airports all the way to government officials. Even though the man at the airport has no particular power over Rankine, Kavanaugh as a Supreme Court Justice does. The White man at the airport was not afraid of any repercussions for his actions in a public space because of his privilege. Similarly, at the highest level of justice White men are not held accountable for their actions. Rankine suggests that if White men are not held accountable at the lowest level how could we expect the same in Washington. She writes: 55

I have watched White people reduce Black people not to a single Black person but

to a single imagine Black person, imagine animal, imagined thing, imagine

ignoramus, imagined depravity, imagined criminality, imagined aggressor,

superpredator, imagined whore, imagined poverty queen, imagined baby maker,

imagined inferior being in need of everything belonging to White people

including air and water and on and on toward and imagine no one. All this

wouldn’t matter if this same category of White people weren’t strategizing tests,

writing exams, grading exams, funding schools, granting bank loans, selling

property, making laws, suppressing voters, determining sentences, evaluating

pain, teaching classes, creating and perpetuating master narratives, hiring, firing,

demoting, killing imagined me. (259).

In this chapter, Rankine refers back to the racial imaginary but more specifically the

White imaginary or White fear or anxiety, as I stated previously. This is evidenced later when she writes, “I am thinking their anxiety, if anxiety exists, is enmeshed with how

Blackness is viewed in the White imaginary” (315). While Rankine states she does not feel that Kavanaugh reflects the actions of all White men she does compare him to the

White man who verbally abuses his wife in the airport. The comparison is important because the actions of White men like Kavanaugh are running the world and these same men are the ones that dehumanize Black men and women. Rankine lists each piece of anti-Black rhetoric she and others have been reduced to in the White imaginary. The

White imaginary is particularly dangerous because these are the same men who are in control of every part of Black life from standardized tests, to hiring, firing, and demoting.

Most importantly, she uses the words “killing imagined me” which can be analyzed 56 figuratively in that certain aspects of the White imaginary have killed many hopes and dreams, however, it can be and should be considered in the literal sense as well, similar to the Black men and women killed at the hands of police that the BLM movement is fighting for. Similarly, after Curry examines Fanon’s theory about White anxiety he takes it a step further by relating it to the killing of unarmed Black men by police officers: “He is not simply othered, but made nonexistent; reconfigured as Whites see fit to justify his subjugation or extermination. He is created by the society and accepted by its citizens as a threat to their very existence. He is policed so that order can be maintained. This is not simply a racial issue in the sense that it is only White society that sees the Black male as a danger, but a problem of how poor Black men and boys like Mr. McDole are defined in this society” (326). Curry refers specifically to policing as a means for maintaining order but more to the point it is a way to allow for mass incarceration of Black men. He also refers to a specific case in which a Black man was shot by police officers. Jeremy

McDole is a powerful candidate for dissecting the White imaginary because he was a paraplegic to which Curry argues he posed no obvious threat to the police, however, the

White imagination demonized him. The White imaginary is not just dangerous because

White police officers produce a threat to Black men but because White men at every level from schools, to courts, to corporate, and the Supreme Court Justice are making laws that specifically impact the Black community—if these White men imagine “superpredators” and “poverty queens” the Black community will continue to suffer.

Rankine’s title Just Us is a clever and artistic play on the term justice which I argue is something that she is seeking through her writing. Like Laymon, Rankine uses her writing and “The Racial Imaginary Institute” to shed light on race issues by 57 examining instances of microaggression and the gravity of White dominance, Rankine illustrates the danger of colorblind thinking as well as the White imaginary. She confirms that there is no space or time in which race is not considered; in fact, at the parent-teacher conference she was the one who brought attention to the race issues. Rankine mixes together a of stream of consciousness in her writing that allows the reader to see the world through her point of view; this allows White readers to reflect on how they may view these White spaces. Rankine highlights the danger of the White imaginary and colorblind thinking by showing how it impacts the way we see small public spaces like the First Class on an airplane all the way to the Supreme Court. In addition, she exposes how at every level the White imaginary dominates these spaces allowing for the continuation of White hierarchical thinking even when “well-meaning” White people do not see color—because if you cannot see color, you cannot see anti-Blackness. 58

Chapter Four

The White Imaginary Continued: How Microaggression and Language Fuel

National anti-Black Violence

Rankine’s hybrid prose-poetry book Citizen: An American Lyric stretches the conventions of lyric poetry while detailing racist microaggressions she as well as her friends have experienced. While the style of this book differs from Just Us the major theme is essentially the same because both intend to expose the danger of the White imaginary while critiquing anti-Black racism. In this chapter, I will explore how the

White imaginary functions in relatively harmless everyday interactions to violent national incidents of anti-Blackness. I will also examine how hurtful language and violent rhetoric fuel the White imaginary while at the same time making anti-Blackness hypervisible.

Rankine opens with a story about a woman she met for the first time for lunch when she recounts the first microaggression. In this scenario, Rankine explains that she is the woman in charge of admissions at her University and the other woman tells Rankine her son was not admitted to the University. Rankine wonders if the woman is implying that Rankine is at fault by association. However, the conversation is much heavier than just a discussion of admissions because the conversation directly relates to race. The woman claims: “She wanted her son to go there as well, but because of affirmative action or minority something—she is not sure what they are calling it these days and weren’t they supposed to get rid of it?—her son wasn’t accepted” (13). As a Black woman

Rankine is made to feel even more at fault because, with regard to affirmative action, minority groups such as Black and Brown people have a higher chance of being admitted to a University. However, that does not mean they have a higher chance than White 59 students but instead have more of an equal opportunity of admission compared to White students with the same application. While what the woman is saying should not be said at all because it is firmly incorrect it especially should not be said to a Black woman in charge of admissions if she did not intend to be offensive. However, I think it is crucial to acknowledge the White imaginary here as well because, while the commentary made by the women may appear relatively harmless, it reveals a larger issue. I refer in the previous chapter to the White imaginary being synonymous with White anxiety and White fear which bodes true here as well. In this woman's mind, like the White people from District

3 in New York, fears that a seat at the University designated for her son was given, instead to a minority student. The White imaginary is not logical, as Rankine illustrates in

Just Us, because the White imaginary feeds the most anti-Black thoughts like the

“imagined whore” and “imagine poverty queen” and “imagined aggressor” (259). In the

White Imaginary, the minority who was admitted to the University as opposed to her son is not a student with better grades and higher test scores, they are “the imagined inferior being”. Most importantly though, the opening story sets the tone for the rest of the lyric which rests firmly on confirming Black lives matter by telling stories of how historically and currently they do not matter to all.

Many of the stories throughout the lyric are told from the second person meaning that it is possible many of the stories are not only Rankine’s but other friends of hers. For example, she writes, “You and your partner go to see the film The House We Live In”

(15). In this story, you ask a friend to babysit for you while you go to see the film but you receive a call later from a neighbor claiming that he called the police about a “menacing

Black guy casing both your homes” (15). You explain to your neighbor that you had 60 asked the friend to babysit but when you arrive home the police have already left and your friend is speaking with your neighbor. While Rankine does not specifically address the White imaginary here, I think it is still rampant in this scene. The neighbor calls you to explain that they called the police on a “menacing Black guy”. You know this man to be the man you asked to babysit but in your neighbors White imaginary this Black man is a threat, something dangerous and insidious—a “superpredator”. The White imaginary proves dangerous here because the police respond to what the neighbor imagines he is seeing. The police imagine this man as a threat based on what the neighbor imagines which is precisely how unarmed Black people lose their lives to police officers. Rankine writes that the neighbor apologizes, however, you, “Feeling somewhat responsible for the actions of your neighbor, you clumsily tell your friend that the next time he wants to talk on the phone he should just go in the backyard. He looks at you a long minute before saying he can speak on the phone wherever he wants. Yes, of course, you say. Yes, of course” (15). Rankine exposes internalized racism because in this story the main character sides with their White neighbor instead of their Black friend. Additionally,

Rankine’s use of the second person is crucial here because it places the reader in the position of the person experiencing this internalized racism. Rankine is not only exposing the White Imaginary here but also placing the potentially non-Black reader in the position of a Black person experiencing internalized racism. While Rankine cannot make a non-Black reader understand exactly what certain scenarios may actually feel like she can utilize language to insert the reader into the narrative allowing them to experience something they may not otherwise experience such as internalized racism or 61 anti-Blackness—an incredibly powerful tactic. Alternatively, but still just as powerful,

Rankine could be using the “you” as if she were retelling the stories to herself.

Next, an unnamed person seeks out therapy from a counselor who specializes in trauma but they have only spoken to each other on the phone. When the person arrives for a therapy appointment they are met with hostility from the therapist. Rankine explains: “And though you back up a few steps, you manage to tell her you have an appointment. You have an appointment? She spits back. Then she pauses. Everything pauses. Oh, she says, followed by, of, yes, that’s right. I am sorry. I am so sorry, so, so sorry” (18). Similar to the previous story the reader has to make some assumptions; for example, the unnamed person is Black and the therapist is White and their reaction is a result of that fact. The therapist assumes that the person or you are not there for therapy, in fact, the therapist's hostility toward you suggests she fears malicious intent. Upon realizing her mistake she is embarrassed and forced to reflect inward about her reaction toward you. A few things are happening here: (1) the therapist is consumed by the thoughts of the White imagination, (2) Rankine is implying a stigma surrounding mental health help among Black Americans (3) mental health issues are often a result of intergenerational trauma and poverty. These three things are intersectional which is evidenced by statistics listed on “Mental Health America” in an article about mental health in the Black community.

Mental Health America confirms that “More than 1 in 5 Black and African

American people in the U.S. lived in poverty as of 2018” and even with more access to mental health treatment as a result of the Affordable Care Act “58.2 percent of Black and

African American young adults 18-25 and 50.1 percent of adults 26-49 with serious 62 mental illness did NOT receive treatment”. In addition, the article points to the stigma surrounding mental health help: “Stigma and judgment prevent Black and African

American people from seeking treatment for their mental illnesses. Research indicates that Blacks and African Americans believe that mild depression or anxiety would be considered “crazy” in their social circles. Furthermore, many believe that discussions about mental illness would not be appropriate even among family”. This article also posits that even if the stigma did not exist, Black Americans confirmed that lack of Black representation among mental health professionals (less than 2 percent of American

Psychological Association members are Black or African American) made them feel that the practitioners were not “culturally competent”.

Furthermore, the article confirms mental health issues are a result of, “ Historical adversity, which includes slavery, sharecropping, and race-based exclusion from health, educational, social, and economic resources, translates into socioeconomic disparities experienced by Black and African American people today. Socioeconomic status, in turn, is linked to mental health: people who are impoverished, homeless, incarcerated, or have substance use problems are at higher risk for poor mental health”. And lastly, lack of mental health help, in turn, helps maintain the prison-industrial complex: “Black and

African American people are over-represented in our jails and prisons. Black and African

American people make up 13 percent of the general U.S. population, but nearly 40 percent of the prison population [...] Black and African American people with mental health conditions, specifically those involving psychosis, are more likely to be in jail or prison than people of other races”. Therefore, the therapist's reaction to you is a result of the White imaginary that is fed by a stigma surrounding mental health help amongst 63

Black Americans. The therapist likely has not had a Black patient because of the stigma as well as lack of access so her first assumption at the sight of you is that you are a threat to her. One point I think that Rankine is making is that therapy or mental health generally are extremely important and that for the Black community trauma therapy specifically may be necessary. Additionally, I believe she is pointing out that even amongst educated professionals racism is rampant even if unintentionally because of the danger that the

White imaginary enables.

In another story, you are rushing to meet a friend and when you arrive late your friend greets you by calling you a “nappy-headed ho” (41). Rankine explains that this person has never referred to you like this before which causes you to reflect on why they would start in the first place. As a reader, the derogatory language might make you cringe even but Rankine provides her reflection: “This person has never before referred to you like this in your presence, never before code-switched in this manner [...] Maybe the content of her statement is irrelevant and she only means to signal the stereotype of

‘Black people time’ by employing what she perceives as ‘Black people language’” (41).

The term code-switching can be traced back to Einar Haugen who coined the term in

1954 and is now known as the practice of alternating between two or more languages or varieties of language in conversation. In this scenario, Rankine is referring to a White friend who code-switches to Black vernacular in order to address her. While code-meshing has become popularized by scholar Vershawn Ashanti Young more recently who advocates that people move back and forth between languages, dialects, and vernaculars it is not likely that this is what he meant. For example, Young explains: 64

But since so many teachers be jackin up code switching with they “speak this way

at school and a different way at home,” we need a new term. I call it CODE

MESHING! Code meshing is the new code switching; it’s mulitdialectalism and

pluralingualism in one speech act, in one paper. Let me drop some code meshing

knowledge on y’all. Code meshing what we all do whenever we

communicate—writin, speakin, whateva. Code meshing blend dialects,

international languages, local idioms, chat-room lingo, and the rhetorical styles of

various ethnic and cultural groups in both formal and informal speech acts.

(113-114)

Young advocates for code meshing in schools as a pathway toward antiracist pedagogy by allowing students to speak and write in multiple languages and dialects, therefore resulting in more access to higher education as students are not reprimanded for not conforming to SAE. While the friend keeps insisting her greeting was a joke, Rankine illustrates the sting that both you and your friend feel in the moment. Similar to Rankine’s analysis of well-meaning White people in Just Us, the friend represents the stark difference between not being racist and being antiracist as explained by Kendi. In fact, this microaggression is comparable to Angie Thomas’s novel The Hate U Give which should be considered a part of BLM Literature as well. The main character Starr lives in a low-income neighborhood but attends a predominantly White private school in a wealthy neighborhood. While the story focuses heavily on Starr as a witness to a police shooting involving a close friend, the novel also implicitly references Starr’s need to code switch between home and school. In one particular scene, one of Starr’s White friends makes an anti-Black comment about eating fried chicken but she insists to Starr the comment was 65 not racist. Starr explains “You can say something racist and not be a racist” (112). When

Rankine’s friend refers to her as a “nappy-headed ho” she was likely not trying to make a racist comment but the fact remains that she did. Rankine adds this microaggression to her lyric because lack of accountability results in more prominent anti-Blackness. In fact, this scene is comparable to the man in Just Us who asked his wife if she was stupid who was then compared to Brett Kavanaugh. If we let microaggressions go without thought they have a snowball effect. Racist language that is shrugged off among friends allows for racist language to be accepted in Washington as well.

A few pages after this incident, Rankine discusses how another person asks what

Judith Butler meant when she described hurtful language. She writes: “For so long you thought the ambition of racist language was to denigrate and erase you as a person. After considering Butler’s remarks you begin to understand yourself as rendered hypervisible in the face of such language acts. Language that feels hurtful is intended to exploit openness, and your desire to engage actually demands your presence, you’re looking up, you’re talking back, and, as insane as it is, saying please” (49). For Rankine, hurtful language appears no longer as something meant to erase her but instead makes her

“hypervisible”. For Saidiya Harman hypervisibility is considered an act of resistance which she explains in her book Scenes of Subjection: Terror, Slavery, and Self-Making in

Nineteenth Century America. Hartman first refers to hypervisibility in a section called

“the Coffle'' where she illustrates a train of slaves shackled together making their way to the market to be sold and likely separated from families. In this section, Hartman specifically analyzes slave songs and the impact of singing in the coffle had on slaves as well as onlookers. For example, she writes: “For this opacity, the subterranean and veiled 66 character of slave song must be considered in relation to the dominative imposition of transparency and the degrading hypervisibility of the enslaved, and therefore, by the same token, such concealment should be considered a form of resistance” (36). Another article entitled “anti-Blackness’’ by Katie Grimes specifically references Hartman’s definition of hypervisibility and relates it to current issues surrounding anti-Blackness. Grimes explains: “Here, traditions of hypodescent have ensured that people of visibly African descent could never blend in or be hidden behind narratives of harmonious homogeneity.

If anything, Black people in the United States have suffered under the glare of hypervisibility. Perhaps partially because of this hypervisibility, Black people in the

United States have struggled to establish the distinctness of not so much their racial identity, but the oppression arrayed against them” (170). For Hartman the suffering of the slaves headed to the market to be sold would become hypervisible because the singing made onlookers more aware of their presence which made the singing an act of resistance. For Grimes, hypervisibility is a key term in defining anti-Blackness because for a long time racism and oppression were umbrella terms for all People of Color. She argues that the necessity for anti-Black violence such as police shootings allowed for the hypervisibility of larger race issues. For example, the killing of Trayvon Martin sparked,

“national debate [and] many of those who believed Martin’s killing to be morally and or legally justified focused on the pathologies of not nonWhiteness in particular, but

Blackness in general. In short, hypervisibility acknowledges anti-Black violence and oppression as an independent problem. For Rankine, hurtful language renders a person hypervisible but she expresses that this is not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, the language she uses suggests an almost welcoming of this language when she says, “ 67 you’re looking up, you’re talking back, and, as insane as it is, saying please”. Instead of hurtful language or derogatory language making someone less visible to the world, a light is cast upon them in a negative way. Hurtful language is used to draw lines and place someone in a space outside of your own and even beneath you. The friend who used the words “nappy-headed ho'' now casts you in a negative light and in doing so indicates anti-Blackness as normative even among friends. Her hurtful language now exposes the receiver, you, to the rest of the world as this signified object. While the language your friend uses does not signify you, you are a Black person, but it is the signified here that is relevant because of the negative connotation. By referring to Rankine, a well-known academic, artist, poet, playwright, and activist, as this signified object of “nappy-headed ho'' in a public space, the speaker is fueling the White imaginary and therefore affirming the normativity of anti-Blackness. By showing that someone as successful as Rankine can be negatively signified by a friend affirms the danger of the White imaginary.

Later in the lyric, Rankine switches to the first person while also indicating the story is being told from the male perspective. The main character is a Black man who has just left a client’s house and has a gut feeling he will be stopped by the police.

Throughout this story, Rankine repeats the lines: “And you are not the guy and still you fit the description because there is only one guy who is always the guy fitting the description” (105-109). In this section, Rankine is focusing primarily on the racial profiling of Black men. The statement she makes is that no matter what the description of the criminal is, any Black man could fit that description and often does fit that description. Rankine is once again exposing the danger the White imaginary as it relates to poor policing that could and does result in the unlawful deaths of Black people in 68

America. Tarayi Jones’s essay “The Lingering Memory of Dead Boys” also speaks to the threat of the White imaginary on Black boys. For example, she writes, “But for too many of us, we are made aware of our own mortality seeing our peers—the boys we want to go to the movies with, the boys who used to pull our hair—we learned that they could be killed for the crime of being themselves. Young. Black. And Male” (49). In the White imaginary being young, Black, and male is always the description that speaks to the threat imposed on all Black boys. Etan Thomas’s article “What I Have to Teach my Son” also addresses that there is an overall understanding in the Black community that Black boys are more at risk because they are viewed as a threat in the White imaginary. Thomas writes: “But soon I have to explain to him that he will not always be viewed as a cute little kid; that as he gets older, that tall-for-his-age, charming little kid with long dreadlocks will be looked at as a threat” (69). In order to further understand why Black boys are seen as a threat in the White imaginary, it is important to also understand the relational dynamic between White people and Black people as Frank B. Wilderson does in Afropessimism. For example, he explains: “Slavery is a relational dynamic—not an event and certainly not a place in space like the South; just as colonialism is a relational dynamic—and that relational dynamic can continue to exist once the settler has left or ceded governmental power. And these two relations are secured by radically different structures of violence” (41) and “To put it bluntly, Blackness cannot be separated from slavery. Blackness is often misconstrued as an identity (cultural, economic, gendered) of the Human community; however, there is no Black time that precedes the time of the

Slave” (217). For slaveholders to justify the cruelty of slavery, it was necessary for slaves to be dehumanized but not much has changed in this regard. Black men make up 40% of 69 the prison population and it is no secret that the prison system has been called modern-day slavery. In other words, anti-Black violence is necessary in order to maintain this relational dynamic; the White imaginary is necessary for police officers to justify the killing of Black boys that they deem a threat.

Following this part of the lyric, Rankine alludes to protests and riots that often follow these unlawful deaths. She writes: “Whatever the reason for the riots, images of the looters’ continued rampage eventually displaced the fact that an unarmed man was shot to death” (116). For the first time in her lyric, she makes a direct statement about the

BLM movement by arguing that the media will overshadow the news about unarmed

Black men being shot to fit the narrative the riots are extreme and unnecessary.

Additionally, news coverage will often report primarily on the most extreme of circumstances while ignoring the hundreds of peaceful protests that occur in conjunction with any riots. The language used here is crucial because by only referring to the community’s reaction as a riot instead of protests the media is forcing the discourse to center around the idea that people are using the death of a Black man as an excuse to cause chaos or loot local businesses. While that may sometimes be the case the rhetoric is itself violent while ignoring the root of the problem which is police brutality. The effects of violent rhetoric have already been studied concerning former President Donald Trump, for example: “The president’s rhetoric has helped to shift discourse norms in our country such that it is more acceptable among more people to denigrate and attack other groups of human beings.’ An academic study found that rhetoric did not change attitudes but rather emboldened individuals to express, and act on, pre-existing views they had once hidden.

Anti-Muslim discourse prompted by remarks by candidate Trump grew on Facebook and 70 other social media sites in 2016” (Byman 2021). When former President Trump used violent rhetoric to describe Mexican immigrants as criminals and rapists he exposed the danger of the White imaginary. When a White man in one of the highest positions of power deemed all immigrants as a threat he permitted White supremacists to use violent rhetoric in public spaces. The former President is known for referring to BLM protestors as “thugs” while also referring to neo-Nazi groups in Charlottesville as “very fine people”. There is a stark difference between a riot, protest, and a social movement, and the rhetoric the media and men in positions of power use is critical.

Nearing the end of her lyric, Rankine includes two full pages of the names of

Black people killed by the police recently. Interestingly, the list is only a fraction of the full list of names; however, it does include one of the more recent victims, George Floyd.

The list serves as a reminder to the reader of her apologetic support of the BLM

Movement. In addition, the list is a reminder of the current political climate in America.

In the previous publications of the text, the list was much shorter but with each new edition, names are added to the list making the statement even more haunting. Most importantly, one page includes the phrase “because White men can’t police their imagination Black people are dying” (135)

(image mine) 71

The statement once again refers to the danger of the White imaginary. If an officer views a Black person as something threatening their imagination may lead them to kill.

Rankine refers directly to Trayvon Martin near the end of her lyric. The death of

Martin in 2012 would spark the BLM movement when George Zimmerman walked free after his imagination became a dangerous weapon. Rankine writes: “Trayvon Martin’s name sounds from the car radio a dozen times each half-hour. You pull your love back into the seat because though no one seems to be chasing you, the justice system has other plans” (151). The direct reference to Martin signals her support of the movement and affirms that her lyric should be considered BLM Literature. However, even more powerful is Rankine’s personal feeling that at any moment she could become a target. Her words are an admission that Trayvon Martin and other Black deaths could happen to any

Black person at any time. Additionally, she admits to owning this fear that her name could be added to the list in her book. The fear she has informs the reader that most Black people have this thought or fear that the justice system can and will and does, fail them.

The last few lines of her lyric are, “And yes, I want to interrupt to tell him her us you me I don’t know how to end what doesn’t have an ending” (159). Rankine concedes that she does not know how to end her book because the subject of her book is the oppression of Black people which does not have a clear ending. She does not want to put a period at the end of a sentence that is still being written. Additionally, this line sums up the idea that the stories she has told are not just for her or you or I but all Black people suffering in America. Rankine’s lyric fits into the new genre of Black Lives Matter literature because it reflects Black lives, the impact of microaggressions, and the danger of the White imaginary while explicitly referencing the movement. 72

Conclusion:

The purpose of this thesis is to suggest the boundaries for and define BLM

Literature. BLM Literature is a budding genre that has not yet been defined by scholars or recognized in the academic discourse community. However, I argue that there are Black authors whose works do fall under this genre or at least subgenre. I define BLM

Literature as any work by Black authors that seeks to unapologetically emphasize the

Black experience. In addition, BLM Literature authors explicitly reference the BLM movement by either alluding to specific people affected by police brutality or anti-Black violence and implicitly refer to the movement by providing commentary on police brutality and anti-Black violence. BLM Literature also crucially reveals how White fear and anxiety, or as Rankine explains, the White imaginary reinforces anti-Black violence.

I also argue that these authors portray the role that institutional racism has played in

Black life concerning the condemnation of Black Vernacular and how language functions generally. Furthermore, BLM Literature authors make themselves hypervisible by sharing very personal stories about their lives or the lives of other Black people to shed light on the anti-Black racism. Lastly, I contend that the personal anecdotes and microaggression these authors share intend to expose the need for systemic and institutional change because they often represent the experience of most Black Americans. I found that the lens of Afropessimism helpful in theorizing about civil society’s dependence on anti-Black violence in order to maintain White supremacy concerning the stories shared by Laymon and Rankine. Anti-Black violence and oppression are not limited to a small group of Black people but, instead are normalized in our society to the point that they are not perceived as instances of anti-Black racism. 73

My project argues for four specific texts that I believe fall into the genre of BLM

Literature, however, there are likely many more. The goal of my first chapter was to show how Kiese Laymon’s collection of essays How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America should be considered for the genre by pointing out specific times in his life that he experienced anti-Blackness. Laymon’s collection also makes very specific references to the BLM movement by alluding to specific people impacted by police brutality such as Rekia Boyd, Edward Evans, and Hadiya Pendleton. Laymon also compares himself to these people when he is experiencing anti-Black violence which I argue suggests not only his support for the movement but the kinship he feels toward them. Additionally, Laymon shares very personal experiences of internalized racism as a result of institutional anti-Blackness. Laymon’s text emphasizes the need for change by showing how anti-Blackness represents the Black experience generally, and therefore he fits the criteria for the BLM Literature genre.

The goal of my project was to define BLM Literature as an emergent and valid genre and to analyze some texts and authors that should be considered in this category. However, defining the genre and examining its writers is not enough because I also need to explain why it matters. In my introduction, I briefly explain why this project matters to me and why I decided to do the work to begin with. My project has allowed me to reflect a lot on my shortcomings and to sit in discomfort with my

Whiteness—which has been pivotal to my personal growth. While I sit in my discomfort as well as acknowledge the pain I feel as I read these stories I am reminded of Asao B.

Inoue 4C’s address in 2019. The phrase, “I know you are good people and because I love you, I am going to be honest with you but it may hurt. I promise you it hurts, not because 74

I have done something wrong but because I am exposing your racial wounds” weighs heavy on me. Inoue’s speech is addressed to his fellow composition teachers and is meant to shed light on institutional racism and how even well-intentioned writing teachers are complicit in this institutional racism. Of course, it has been important for me to have these racial wounds exposed and to also acknowledge how I am complicit in racism as a

White woman but my project seeks to do more than that.

To combat racism, we must first acknowledge its existence but also recognize how we may benefit from or be complicit in racism. In addition, we must actively try everyday to be antiracist in everything that we do. One way in which we can strive to be antiracist is to validate the BLM movement as a social movement fighting for Black life to be valued as much as any other race. In addition, BLM Literature should be acknowledged as a legitimate genre with key insight into the Black experience.

The BLM Movement started as a hashtag by Patrisse Khan-Cullors, Alicia Garza, and Opal Tometi after George Zimmerman was acquitted of the murder of Trayvon

Martin. By acquitting Zimmerman the Justice system indicated to the public that Martin’s life did not matter or at least it did not matter as much as Zimmerman’s. However, what started as an online movement quickly became a national social movement that demanded action. Zimmerman was free for a few weeks but with demonstrations demanding his prosecution nationwide, he was finally charged with second-degree murder. My project started as soon as I heard the news about George Floyd and as I began to put the finishing touches on my writing I read that Derek Chauvin was convicted on one count of second-degree murder, one count of third-degree murder, and one count of second-degree manslaughter. There is no doubt that the BLM movement has 75 made an impact in the courtroom from Martin to Floyd, although there is still a lot of work to be done. BLM Literature is valuable to the BLM movement because these authors validate and affirm the struggle by providing evidence of how pervasive anti-Blackness is to Black life. BLM Literature authors strengthen the BLM movement’s demand for change by indicating anti-Blackness and anti-Black violence are not limited to police brutality. While the BLM movement itself is fighting for change within the justice system, BLM Literature highlights many of the underlying issues that confirm the need for systemic and institutional change. Writers like Laymon and Rankine indicate the reasons why police brutality happens in the first place by showing how anti-Blackness starts in our schools, occurs in microaggressions between friends and colleagues, and how the White imaginary or White anxiety fuels anti-Black violence. My conclusion is simple, BLM Literature is important because Black lives matter. 76

Works Cited

Anthony E. O. King. “Understanding Violence Among Young African American Males:

An Afrocentric Perspective.” Journal of Black Studies, vol. 28, no. 1, 1997, pp.

79–96. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/2784895. Accessed 4 May 2021.

Baldwin, James. “If Black English Isn't a Language, Then Tell Me, What Is?” The Black

Scholar, vol. 27, no. 1, 1997, pp. 5–6., doi:10.1080/00064246.1997.11430831.

Ball, Cheryl E, and Loewe, Drew M. Bad Ideas About Writing. Place of Publication Not

Identified: West Virginia U, 2017. Web.

Baker-Bell, April. "Dismantling Anti-Black Linguistic Racism in English Language Arts

Classrooms: Toward an Anti-racist Black Language Pedagogy." Theory into

Practice 59.1 (2020): 8-21. Web

“Black and African American Communities and Mental Health.” Mental Health America,

Betterhelp, 2021,

https://www.mhanational.org/issues/black-and-african-american-communities-and -mental-health

Byman, Daniel L. “How Hateful Rhetoric Connects to Real-World Violence.” Brookings,

Brookings, 9 Apr. 2021,

www.brookings.edu/blog/order-from-chaos/2021/04/09/how-hateful-rhetoric-con

nects-to-real-world-violence/.

Claudia Rankine and Beth Loffreda April. “On Whiteness and The Racial Imaginary.”

Literary Hub, 19 Mar. 2019, lithub.com/on-Whiteness-and-the-racial-imaginary/.

Cunningham, Vinson. “The Argument of ‘Afropessimism.’” The New Yorker, July 2020,

www.newyorker.com/magazine/2020/07/20/the-argument-of-afropessimism.

Curry, Tommy J. "This Nigger's Broken: Hyper‐Masculinity, the Buck, and the Role of 77

Physical Disability in White Anxiety Toward the Black Male Body." Journal of

Social Philosophy 48.3 (2017): 321-43. Web.

“DA: Teen Shot during Home Invasion.” WAPT, WAPT, 5 Oct. 2017,

www.wapt.com/article/da-teen-shot-during-home-invasion/2080273.

DiAngelo, Robin J. "Why Can't We All Just Be Individuals? Countering the Discourse of

Individualism in Anti-Racist Education." Interactions (Los Angeles, Calif.) 6.1

(2010): Interactions (Los Angeles, Calif.), 2010, Vol.6 (1). Web.

Eades, James. “Black Lives Matter – Also in Literature.” Österreichische Akademie Der

Wissenschaften, Austrian Academy of Sciences, 2020,

www.oeaw.ac.at/en/detail/news/Black-lives-matter-also-in-literature.

Fanon, Frantz. “The Negro and Language.” Modern Criticism and Theory, by Nigel

Wood and David Lodge, Taylor and Francis, 2014, pp. 125–139.

Gray, Kevin Alexander, et al. Killing Trayvons: an Anthology of American Violence.

CounterPunch Books, 2014.

Harney, Stefano, et al. The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning & Black Study. Minor

Compositions, 2013.

Hartman, Saidiya V. Scenes of Subjection: Terror, Slavery, and Self-Making in

Nineteenth-Century America. Oxford University Press, 2010.

Kendi, Ibram X. “Ibram X. Kendi Defines What It Means to Be an Antiracist.” Penguin

Books UK, 10 June 2020,

www.penguin.co.uk/articles/2020/june/ibram-x-kendi-definition-of-antiracist.html

Laymon, Kiese. Heavy: An American Memoir. Scribner, 2019.

Laymon, Kiese. How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America: Essays. Scribner, an 78

Imprint of Simon and Schuster, Inc., 2020.

Lorde, Audre. “The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House.” 1984.

Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches. Ed. Berkeley, CA: Crossing Press. 110

114. 2007. Print.

Morris, Natalie. “'Anti-Blackness' Shows How Racism Can Be Specifically Damaging

for Black People.” Metro, Metro.co.uk, 20 Mar. 2020,

metro.co.uk/2020/03/20/what-is-anti-Blackness-12279678/.

Morrison, Toni. “The House That Race Built.” White Innocence, 1997,

doi:10.1215/9780822374565-003.

Rankine, Claudia. Citizen: An American Lyric. Penguin, 2015.

Rankine, Claudia. Just Us: an American Conversation. Graywolf Press, 2020.

Sharpe, Christina. In the Wake: On Blackness and Being. Duke University Press, 2016.

Wilderson, Frank III. Afropessimism. Recorded Books, LLC, 2020.

Young, Vershawn Ashanti. “Should Writers Use They Own English?” Iowa Journal of

Cultural Studies, vol. 12, no. 1, 2010, pp. 110–117., doi:10.17077/2168

569x.1095.