YA Chiller
"Like Breanna Taylor. In her home, a no-knock warrant serving as a good enough reason for the police to kill her while she was in bed. As if someone breaking into your home, not announcing who they were, wouldn't terrify anyone. Her death hits harder knowing we're supposed to be sheltering in place. It's a sobering reminder we're not all safe in our homes.
We're not safe anywhere."
I think 2020 is not a year most of us don't have fond memories of. The arrival of a once in a century pandemic that quickly shut down the nation. Whether we were students trying to adjust to online education--those of us privileged enough to have access to reliable wifi that is, essential workers on the front line day after day, laid off workers striving to cover the most basic costs, or mothers trying to teach their kids while working from home we're not going to wage nostalgic for it. And for people of color the deaths of unarmed Blacks at the hands of police officers was a constant reminder of their greater vulnerability. Although we all may have been riding out the same storm, we were in vastly different boats. Kim Johnson helps us to see the beginning of that year from the perspective of someone with a lot less privilege and really care aboutbhim through her Invisible Son.
Andre had only spent a few minutes at a New Years Eve party. But he was arrested. There had been a series of robberies of guests at teen parties. A backpack 🎒 of evidence had turned up in his locker. His best friends had let him take the fall for a crime he had no part of.
Now he's back two months later on a program that involves school, community service, frequent contact with a probation officer, and a monitoring ankle bracelet. And a racist probation officer who thinks he got off too easy is watching him, ready to pounce if he slips up. His family tells him to basically follow the rules so he won't get sent back. But he's determined to learn what happened that night 🌙. It won't be easy. His very best friend has disappeared. Not even Eric's family has a clue where he is.
Andre is supposed to return to school for the spring quarter. But news of the pandemic has been filtering in. The school he returns to is online. And the coronavirus has more in store. His grandfather dies in a hospital cut off from his family in his last minutes of life. His mother chooses to stay closer to the hospital out of fear of reinfecting her family. His father's shut down book store inches closer to being shut down.
And through the new normal shitsttorm the names of unarmed Blacks killed by the police filter through.
I don't have the reviewing skills to do justice to this powerful narrative. The combination of Johnson's evocative writing and its ability to trigger my memories made me see Andre, made me care about what happens to him, made me even more angry about the unacknowledged systemic and personal racism in America.
Invisible Son is a truly worthy follow up to This Is My America. I can't wait to see what Johnson comes up with next.
On a purrrsonal note, I had a scare yesterday. My laptop started making a noise sounding like a generator or someone breathing on a ventilator. My first thought was that it was going down. I need it for my last year of graduate school. My budget barely allows for tuition, fees, and textbooks--not replacing it. But I didn't let myself go into a panic attack. I went to see the techies at UMaine who did a check up and diagnosed nothing to raise concerns. Then I was glad I had this unexpected trip because I saw my friend Sam (who was wearing a strikingly gorgeous dress) who told me Wilson Center might have another drag show. I said I'll do anything I can to help. I've picked out a song I really want to try out before the big UMaine drag show in April. (Jules)
The laptop is annoying AF. I should be her only laptop. (Tobago)
A great big shout out goes out to techies and Sam.
Tobago and Jules Hathaway
Sent from my U.S.Cellular© Smartphone
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