Colson Whitehead continues to deliver with powerful storytelling. Not the power of hitting you across the face with big wide traumatic events, but little paper-cuts: you only realize you reach the crescendo of the story with one last cut, look down, and you’re bleeding and falling apart.
What I learned from this story is the every day trauma that lives with the generation who grew up with Jim Crow.
How hailing a cab, walking into a hotel, or asking for a table from a hostess can be triggering.
How the law doesn’t matter when those in power routinely broke the law abusing you, your parents, and your grandparents.
How getting broken as a person by your ‘neighbor’ stays with you for life. Parents pass their trauma down to their children.
We speak the names of Trayvon, George, Breonna, Rayshard… but we should also be mourning the futures robbed by survivors too. How many decades of potential professors, doctors, scientists were stripped of that opportunity because of being pulled over one time?