When I was 5 years old I remember being called “very articulate,” at first glance this phrase seems overwhelmingly positive, how could it be anything else? But, to me, it felt incredibly inauthentic, like being able to talk well or communicate my feelings coherently wasn’t expected of me. This inauthenticity, this contradiction has permeated my experience ever since, this was my first experience with the concept of race.
A couple of years later my father and I were out running an errand, we were on our way home when suddenly we saw flashing red and blue lights in the rearview mirror. When he pulled over I noticed just how tense my father was, how meticulous he was in making sure his hands were visible, how he preemptively pulled out his ID and made sure he had everything. When the officer talked to him it went from 0 to 100. The utter lack of respect and grace that was afforded to my father was unforgettable.
Growing up in a predominantly white neighborhood and school system I felt isolated. None of my peers knew what was going on. It wasn’t until 4th grade that race was even “covered” in my school, and I am using the word covered very generously.
My parents had always been very good about teaching me about these topics, from slavery, to Jim Crow and down to their own experiences. But after this class, I realized something, race, something that was so material to me in its effects on my everyday life and perceived value in society… wasn't “real” to my white peers. It wasn’t just that they didn’t care about it, they lived in a different reality.
It's an incredibly disorienting experience to understand that your black-ness is what comes before you: before your ability, before your intellect, before your kindness, you… are….. black.
What was even more sobering was the realization that I have never felt “American,” I will never be fully accepted due to the “black-ness” that has been placed upon me. To be clear, I am not ashamed of my skin color, I am proud to be black, but blackness isn’t intrinsic to me, it’s something that was meant to and continues to chain and hold down black people, a manufactured category to denigrate and demonize a large swathe of people.
School Clothes is a collective memoir of the Black experience in America, it seeks to put forth voices that have often been forgotten in this discussion. When talking about systemic violence and oppression it is all too easy to forget about the people who live under these circumstances. How we talk about these issues can seem very detached, and academic. Of course, it’s important to recognize the systemic realities black people face, but it's equally as important not to lose sight of the people this research is based on. People who struggle can’t be boiled down to a statistic who as Givens says, “have their own individual styles, talents, and dreams”(24).
Givens masterfully links together these stories and time periods as “part of a continuum of consciousness…oscillating between the individual and collective voices because either alone is insufficient. Weaving them together clarifies the depth and breadth of the black student experience.”
In the Preface of “School Clothes” Professor Givens introduces the reader to W.E.B Du Bois's concept of the double veil or double consciousness that black people have from the alienation… and devaluation that comes with living in a white-dominated society. Professor Given’s work grounds this idea in material reality with the very real stories that he shares throughout this book.
Let us celebrate black voices and the determination of these brave men and women. Using their energy and spirit to reflect on where we have come from and where we could go.
Work Cited
Givens, Jarvis R. School Clothes: A Collective Memoir of Black Student Witness. Beacon Press, 2023.
By Cornell Horner