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'Between the World and Me' by Ta-Nehisi Coates - The Atlantic

POLITICS

Letter to My Son
Here is what I would like for you to know: In America, it is traditional to
destroy the black bodyit is heritage.

Darhil Crooks / The Atlantic

TA-NEHISI COATES
JUL 4, 2015

Andhavebroughthumanitytotheedgeofoblivion:becausetheythinktheyare
white.
JamesBaldwin

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on,
LastSundaythehostofapopularnewsshowaskedmewhatitmeant
tolosemybody.ThehostwasbroadcastingfromWashington,D.C.,

andIwasseatedinaremotestudioontheFarWestSideofManhattan.A
satelliteclosedthemilesbetweenus,butnomachinerycouldclosethegap
betweenherworldandtheworldforwhichIhadbeensummonedtospeak.
Whenthehostaskedmeaboutmybody,herfacefadedfromthescreen,and
wasreplacedbyascrollofwords,writtenbymeearlierthatweek.
Thehostreadthesewordsfortheaudience,andwhenshefinishedshe
turnedtothesubjectofmybody,althoughshedidnotmentionitspecifically.
ButbynowIamaccustomedtointelligentpeopleaskingaboutthecondition
ofmybodywithoutrealizingthenatureoftheirrequest.Specifically,thehost
wishedtoknowwhyIfeltthatwhiteAmericasprogress,orratherthe
progressofthoseAmericanswhobelievethattheyarewhite,wasbuilton
lootingandviolence.Hearingthis,Ifeltanoldandindistinctsadnesswellup
inme.Theanswertothisquestionistherecordofthebelieversthemselves.
TheanswerisAmericanhistory.

This article is adapted from Coatess forthcoming book.

Thereisnothingextremeinthisstatement.Americansdeifydemocracyina
waythatallowsforadimawarenessthattheyhave,fromtimetotime,stood
indefianceoftheirGod.Thisdefianceisnottobemuchdwelledupon.
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DemocracyisaforgivingGodandAmericasheresiestorture,theft,
enslavementarespecimensofsin,socommonamongindividualsand
nationsthatnonecandeclarethemselvesimmune.Infact,Americans,ina
realsense,haveneverbetrayedtheirGod.WhenAbrahamLincolndeclared,
in1863,thatthebattleofGettysburgmustensurethatgovernmentofthe
people,bythepeople,forthepeople,shallnotperishfromtheearth,hewas
notmerelybeingaspirational.AttheonsetoftheCivilWar,theUnitedStates
ofAmericahadoneofthehighestratesofsuffrageintheworld.Thequestion
isnotwhetherLincolntrulymeantgovernmentofthepeoplebutwhatour
countryhas,throughoutitshistory,takenthepoliticaltermpeopletoactually
mean.In1863itdidnotmeanyourmotheroryourgrandmother,anditdid
notmeanyouandme.Asfornow,itmustbesaidthattheelevationofthe
beliefinbeingwhitewasnotachievedthroughwinetastingsandice-cream
socials,butratherthroughthepillagingoflife,liberty,labor,andland.
ThatSunday,onthatnewsshow,ItriedtoexplainthisasbestIcouldwithin
thetimeallotted.Butattheendofthesegment,thehostflashedawidely
sharedpictureofa12-year-oldblackboytearfullyhuggingawhitepolice
officer.Thensheaskedmeabouthope.AndIknewthenthatIhadfailed.
AndIrememberedthatIhadexpectedtofail.AndIwonderedagainatthe
indistinctsadnesswellingupinme.WhyexactlywasIsad?Icameoutofthe
studioandwalkedforawhile.Itwasacalmlate-Novemberday.Families,
believingthemselveswhite,wereoutonthestreets.Infants,raisedtobe
white,werebundledinstrollers.AndIwassadforthesepeople,muchasI
wassadforthehostandsadforallthepeopleouttherewatchingandreveling
inaspecioushope.IrealizedthenwhyIwassad.Whenthejournalistasked
meaboutmybody,itwaslikeshewasaskingmetoawakenherfromthemost
gorgeousdream.Ihaveseenthatdreamallmylife.Itisperfecthouseswith
nicelawns.ItisMemorialDaycookouts,blockassociations,anddriveways.
TheDreamistreehousesandtheCubScouts.AndforsolongIhavewanted
toescapeintotheDream,tofoldmycountryovermyheadlikeablanket.But
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thishasneverbeenanoption,becausetheDreamrestsonourbacks,the
beddingmadefromourbodies.Andknowingthis,knowingthattheDream
persistsbywarringwiththeknownworld,Iwassadforthehost,Iwassadfor
allthosefamilies,Iwassadformycountry,butaboveall,inthatmoment,I
wassadforyou.

This is your country, this is your world, this is your

body, and you must find some way to live within the
all of it.
ThatwastheweekyoulearnedthatthekillersofMichaelBrownwouldgo
free.Themenwhohadlefthisbodyinthestreetwouldneverbepunished.It
wasnotmyexpectationthatanyonewouldeverbepunished.Butyouwere
youngandstillbelieved.Youstayeduptill11p.m.thatnight,waitingforthe
announcementofanindictment,andwheninsteaditwasannouncedthat
therewasnoneyousaid,Ivegottogo,andyouwentintoyourroom,andI
heardyoucrying.Icameinfiveminutesafter,andIdidnthugyou,andI
didntcomfortyou,becauseIthoughtitwouldbewrongtocomfortyou.Idid
nottellyouthatitwouldbeokay,becauseIhaveneverbelieveditwouldbe
okay.WhatItoldyouiswhatyourgrandparentstriedtotellme:thatthisis
yourcountry,thatthisisyourworld,thatthisisyourbody,andyoumustfind
somewaytolivewithintheallofit.
Iwriteyouinyour15thyear.Iamwritingyoubecausethiswastheyearyou
sawEricGarnerchokedtodeathforsellingcigarettes;becauseyouknownow
thatRenishaMcBridewasshotforseekinghelp,thatJohnCrawfordwasshot
downforbrowsinginadepartmentstore.Andyouhaveseenmeninuniform
drivebyandmurderTamirRice,a12-year-oldchildwhomtheywereoathboundtoprotect.Andyouknownow,ifyoudidnotbefore,thatthepolice
departmentsofyourcountryhavebeenendowedwiththeauthorityto
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destroyyourbody.Itdoesnotmatterifthedestructionistheresultofan
unfortunateoverreaction.Itdoesnotmatterifitoriginatesina
misunderstanding.Itdoesnotmatterifthedestructionspringsfromafoolish
policy.Sellcigaretteswithouttheproperauthorityandyourbodycanbe
destroyed.Turnintoadarkstairwellandyourbodycanbedestroyed.The
destroyerswillrarelybeheldaccountable.Mostlytheywillreceivepensions.

Responses to Ta-Nehisi Coates's Between the World and Me

Read More

Thereisnothinguniquelyevilinthesedestroyersoreveninthismoment.
Thedestroyersaremerelymenenforcingthewhimsofourcountry,correctly
interpretingitsheritageandlegacy.Thislegacyaspirestotheshacklingof
blackbodies.Itishardtofacethis.Butallourphrasingracerelations,racial
chasm,racialjustice,racialprofiling,whiteprivilege,evenwhitesupremacy
servestoobscurethatracismisavisceralexperience,thatitdislodgesbrains,
blocksairways,ripsmuscle,extractsorgans,cracksbones,breaksteeth.You
mustneverlookawayfromthis.Youmustalwaysrememberthatthe
sociology,thehistory,theeconomics,thegraphs,thecharts,theregressions
allland,withgreatviolence,uponthebody.Andshouldoneliveinsucha
body?Whatshouldbeouraimbeyondmeagersurvivalofconstant,
generational,ongoingbatteryandassault?Ihaveaskedthisquestionallmy
life.Ihavesoughttheanswerthroughmyreadingandwritings,throughthe
musicofmyyouth,throughargumentswithyourgrandfather,withyour
mother.Ihavesearchedforanswersinnationalistmyth,inclassrooms,out
onthestreets,andonothercontinents.Thequestionisunanswerable,which
isnottosayfutile.Thegreatestrewardofthisconstantinterrogation,of
confrontationwiththebrutalityofmycountry,isthatithasfreedmefrom
ghostsandmyths.
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Eduardo Munoz / Reuters

ndyetIamstillafraid.Ifeelthefearmostacutelywheneveryou
leaveme.ButIwasafraidlongbeforeyou,andinthisIwas
unoriginal.WhenIwasyouragetheonlypeopleIknewwereblack,

andallofthemwerepowerfully,adamantly,dangerouslyafraid.Itwas
alwaysrightinfrontofme.Thefearwasthereintheextravagantboysofmy
WestBaltimoreneighborhood,intheirlargeringsandmedallions,theirbig
puffycoatsandfull-lengthfur-collaredleathers,whichwastheirarmor
againsttheirworld.TheywouldstandonthecornerofGwynnOakand
Liberty,orColdSpringandParkHeights,oroutsideMondawminMall,with
theirhandsdippedinRussellsweats.IthinkbackonthoseboysnowandallI
seeisfear,andallIseeisthemgirdingthemselvesagainsttheghostsofthe
badolddayswhentheMississippimobgatheredroundtheirgrandfathersso
thatthebranchesoftheblackbodymightbetorched,thencutaway.Thefear
livedonintheirpracticedbop,theirslouchingdenim,theirbigT-shirts,the
calculatedangleoftheirbaseballcaps,acatalogofbehaviorsandgarments
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enlistedtoinspirethebeliefthattheseboyswereinfirmpossessionof
everythingtheydesired.
IfeltthefearinthevisitstomyNanashomeinPhiladelphia.Youneverknew
her.Ibarelyknewher,butwhatIrememberisherhardmanner,herrough
voice.AndIknewthatmyfathersfatherwasdeadandthatmyUncleOscar
wasdeadandthatmyUncleDavidwasdeadandthateachoftheseinstances
wasunnatural.AndIsawitinmyownfather,wholovesyou,whocounsels
you,whoslippedmemoneytocareforyou.Myfatherwassoveryafraid.I
feltitinthestingofhisblackleatherbelt,whichheappliedwithmoreanxiety
thananger,myfatherwhobeatmeasifsomeonemightstealmeaway,
becausethatisexactlywhatwashappeningallaroundus.Everyonehadlosta
child,somehow,tothestreets,tojail,todrugs,toguns.Itwassaidthatthese
lostgirlsweresweetashoneyandwouldnothurtafly.Itwassaidthatthese
lostboyshadjustreceivedaGEDandhadbeguntoturntheirlivesaround.
Andnowtheyweregone,andtheirlegacywasagreatfear.
WhenIwas6,MaandDadtookmetoalocalpark.Islippedfromtheirgaze
andfoundaplayground.Yourgrandparentsspentanxiousminuteslooking
forme.Whentheyfoundme,DaddidwhateveryparentIknewwouldhave
donehereachedforhisbelt.Irememberwatchinghiminakindofdaze,
awedatthedistancebetweenpunishmentandoffense.Later,Iwouldhearit
inDadsvoiceEitherIcanbeathim,orthepolice.Maybethatsavedme.
Maybeitdidnt.AllIknowis,theviolencerosefromthefearlikesmokefrom
afire,andIcannotsaywhetherthatviolence,evenadministeredinfearand
love,soundedthealarmorchokedusattheexit.WhatIknowisthatfathers
whoslammedtheirteenageboysforsasswouldthenreleasethemtostreets
wheretheirboysemployed,andweresubjectto,thesamejustice.AndIknew
motherswhobeltedtheirgirls,butthebeltcouldnotsavethesegirlsfrom
drugdealerstwicetheirage.

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TobeblackintheBaltimoreofmyyouthwastobenakedbeforetheelements
oftheworld,beforealltheguns,fists,knives,crack,rape,anddisease.The
lawdidnotprotectus.Andnow,inyourtime,thelawhasbecomeanexcuse
forstoppingandfriskingyou,whichistosay,forfurtheringtheassaulton
yourbody.Butasocietythatprotectssomepeoplethroughasafetynetof
schools,government-backedhomeloans,andancestralwealthbutcan
protectyouonlywiththeclubofcriminaljusticehaseitherfailedatenforcing
itsgoodintentionsorsucceededatsomethingmuchdarker.
Irememberbeing11yearsold,standingoutintheparkinglotinfrontofthe
7-Eleven,watchingacrewofolderboysstandingnearthestreet.Istood
there,marvelingattheolderboysbeautifulsenseoffashion.Theyallwore
skijackets,thekindthatmothersputonlayawayinSeptember,thenpiledup
overtimehourssoastohavethethingwrappedandreadyforChristmas.A
light-skinnedboywithalongheadandsmalleyeswasscowlingatanother
boy,whowasstandingclosetome.Itwasjustbeforethreeintheafternoon.I
wasinsixthgrade.Schoolhadjustletout,anditwasnotyetthefighting
weatherofearlyspring.Whatwastheexactproblemhere?Whocouldknow?
Theboywiththesmalleyesreachedintohisskijacketandpulledoutagun.I
recallitintheslowestmotion,asthoughinadream.Theretheboystood,
withthegunbrandished,whichheslowlyuntucked,tucked,thenuntucked
oncemore,andinhissmalleyesIsawasurgingragethatcould,inaninstant,
erasemybody.Thatwas1986.ThatyearIfeltmyselftobedrowninginthe
newsreportsofmurder.Iwasawarethatthesemurdersveryoftendidnot
landupontheintendedtargetsbutfellupongreat-aunts,PTAmothers,
overtimeuncles,andjoyfulchildrenfelluponthemrandomandrelentless,
likegreatsheetsofrain.Iknewthisintheorybutcouldnotunderstanditas
factuntiltheboywiththesmalleyesstoodacrossfrommeholdingmyentire
bodyinhissmallhands.

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Before I could escape, I had to survive, and this could

only mean a clash with the streets.
Irememberbeingamazedthatdeathcouldsoeasilyriseupfromthenothing
ofaboyishafternoon,billowuplikefog.IknewthatWestBaltimore,whereI
lived;thatthenorthsideofPhiladelphia,wheremycousinslived;thatthe
SouthSideofChicago,wherefriendsofmyfatherlived,comprisedaworld
apart.Somewhereouttherebeyondthefirmament,pasttheasteroidbelt,
therewereotherworldswherechildrendidnotregularlyfearfortheirbodies.
Iknewthisbecausetherewasalargetelevisioninmylivingroom.Inthe
eveningsIwouldsitbeforethistelevisionbearingwitnesstothedispatches
fromthisotherworld.Therewerelittlewhiteboyswithcompletecollections
offootballcards,theironlywantwasapopulargirlfriendandtheironlyworry
waspoisonoak.Thatotherworldwassuburbanandendless,organized
aroundpotroasts,blueberrypies,fireworks,ice-creamsundaes,immaculate
bathrooms,andsmalltoytrucksthatwereloosedinwoodedbackyardswith
streamsandendlesslawns.Comparingthesedispatcheswiththefactsofmy
nativeworld,Icametounderstandthatmycountrywasagalaxy,andthis
galaxystretchedfromthepandemoniumofWestBaltimoretothehappy
huntinggroundsofMr.Belvedere.Iobsessedoverthedistancebetweenthat
othersectorofspaceandmyown.IknewthatmyportionoftheAmerican
galaxy,wherebodieswereenslavedbyatenaciousgravity,wasblackand
thattheother,liberatedportionwasnot.Iknewthatsomeinscrutableenergy
preservedthebreach.Ifelt,butdidnotyetunderstand,therelationbetween
thatotherworldandme.AndIfeltinthisacosmicinjustice,aprofound
cruelty,whichinfusedanabiding,irrepressibledesiretounshacklemybody
andachievethevelocityofescape.

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Adrees Latif / Reuters

BeforeIcouldescape,Ihadtosurvive,andthiscouldonlymeanaclashwith
thestreets,bywhichImeannotjustphysicalblocks,norsimplythepeople
packedintothem,butthearrayoflethalpuzzlesandstrangeperilsthatseem
toriseupfromtheasphaltitself.Thestreetstransformeveryordinaryday
intoaseriesoftrickquestions,andeveryincorrectanswerrisksabeat-down,
ashooting,orapregnancy.Noonesurvivesunscathed.WhenIwasyourage,
fullyone-thirdofmybrainwasconcernedwithwhomIwaswalkingtoschool
with,ourprecisenumber,themannerofourwalk,thenumberoftimesI
smiled,whomorwhatIsmiledat,whoofferedapoundandwhodidnotall
ofwhichistosaythatIpracticedthecultureofthestreets,aculture
concernedchieflywithsecuringthebody.
Thecultureofthestreetswasessentialtherewasnoalternative.Icouldnot
retreatintothechurchanditsmysteries.Myparentsrejectedalldogmas.We
spurnedtheholidaysmarketedbythepeoplewhowantedtobewhite.We
wouldnotstandfortheiranthems.WewouldnotkneelbeforetheirGod.
Themeekshallinherittheearthmeantnothingtome.Themeekwere
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batteredinWestBaltimore,stompedoutatWalbrookJunction,bashedupon
ParkHeights,andrapedintheshowersofthecityjail.Myunderstandingof
theuniversewasphysical,anditsmoralarcbenttowardchaosthen
concludedinabox.Thatwasthemessageofthesmall-eyedboy,untucking
thepieceachildbearingthepowertobodyandbanishotherchildrento
memory.Fearruledeverythingaroundme,andIknew,asallblackpeople
do,thatthisfearwasconnectedtotheworldoutthere,totheunworriedboys,
topieandpotroast,tothewhitefencesandgreenlawnsnightlybeamedinto
ourtelevisionsets.
EveryFebruarymyclassmatesandIwereherdedintoassembliesforaritual
reviewofthecivil-rightsmovement.Ourteachersurgedustowardthe
exampleoffreedommarchers,FreedomRiders,andFreedomSummers,and
itseemedthatthemonthcouldnotpasswithoutaseriesoffilmsdedicatedto
thegloriesofbeingbeatenoncamera.Whyaretheyshowingthistous?Why
wereonlyourheroesnonviolent?BackthenallIcoulddowasmeasurethese
freedom-loversbywhatIknew.Whichistosay,Imeasuredthemagainst
childrenpullingoutinthe7-Elevenparkinglot,againstparentswielding
extensioncords,andthethreateningintonationsofarmedblackgangs
saying,Yeah,nigger,whatsupnow?IjudgedthemagainstthecountryI
knew,whichhadacquiredthelandthroughmurderandtameditunder
slavery,againstthecountrywhosearmiesfannedoutacrosstheworldto
extendtheirdominion.Theworld,therealone,wascivilizationsecuredand
ruledbysavagemeans.Howcouldtheschoolsvalorizemenandwomen
whosevaluessocietyactivelyscorned?Howcouldtheysendusoutintothe
streetsofBaltimore,knowingallthattheywere,andthenspeakof
nonviolence?
Somethingswerecleartome:Theviolencethatundergirdedthecountry,so
flagrantlyondisplayduringBlackHistoryMonth,andtheintimateviolence
ofthestreetswerenotunrelated.Andthisviolencewasnotmagical,butwas
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ofapieceandbydesign.Butwhatexactlywasthedesign?Andwhy?Imust
know.Imustgetout...butintowhat?Isawthedesigninthoseintheboyson
thecorner,inthebabieshavingbabies.Thedesignexplainedeverything,
fromourcracked-outfatherstoHIVtothebleachedskinofMichaelJackson.
IfeltthisbutIcouldnotexplainit.ThiswastwoyearsbeforetheMillionMan
March.AlmosteverydayIplayedIceCubesalbumDeathCertificate:Let
melivemylife,ifwecannolongerliveourlife,thenletusgiveourlifeforthe
liberationandsalvationoftheblacknation.Iwashauntedbythebodily
sacrificeofMalcolm.IwashauntedbecauseIbelievedthatwehadleft
ourselvesbackthere,andnowinthecrackeraallwehadwasagreatfear.
PerhapsImustgoback.ThatwaswhatIheardintherapperscalltokeepit
real.Perhapsweshouldreturntoourselves,toourownprimordialstreets,to
ourownruggedness,toourownrudehair.Perhapsweshouldreturnto
Mecca.

yonlyMeccawas,is,andshallalwaysbeHowardUniversity.This
Mecca,MyMeccaTheMeccaisamachine,craftedtocapture
andconcentratethedarkenergyofallAfricanpeoplesandinjectit

directlyintothestudentbody.TheMeccaderivesitspowerfromtheheritage
ofHowardUniversity,whichinJimCrowdaysenjoyedanear-monopolyon
blacktalent.Andwhereasmostotherhistoricallyblackschoolswere
scatteredlikefortsinthegreatwildernessoftheoldConfederacy,Howard
wasinWashington,D.C.ChocolateCityandthusinproximitytoboth
federalpowerandblackpower.IfirstwitnessedthispoweroutontheYard,
thatcommunalgreenspaceinthecenterofthecampuswherethestudents
gatheredandIsaweverythingIknewofmyblackselfmultipliedoutinto
seeminglyendlessvariations.TherewerethescionsofNigerianaristocratsin
theirbusinesssuitsgivingdaptobald-headedQsinpurplewindbreakersand
tanTimbs.Therewerethehigh-yellowprogenyofA.M.E.preachersdebating
theclericsofAusar-Set.TherewereCaliforniagirlsturnedMuslim,born
anew,inhijabandlongskirt.TherewerePonzischemersandChristian
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cultists,Tabernaclefanaticsandmathematicalgeniuses.Itwaslikelistening
toahundreddifferentrenditionsofRedemptionSong,eachinadifferent
colorandkey.AndoverlayingallofthiswasthehistoryofHowarditself.I
knewthatIwasliterallywalkinginthefootstepsofalltheToniMorrisonsand
ZoraNealeHurstons,ofalltheSterlingBrownsandKennethClarks,whod
comebefore.
TheMeccathevastnessofblackpeopleacrossspace-timecouldbe
experiencedina20-minutewalkacrosscampus.Isawthisvastnessinthe
studentschoppingitupinfrontoftheFrederickDouglassMemorialHall,
whereMuhammadAlihadaddressedtheirfathersandmothersindefianceof
theVietnamWar.IsawitsepicsweepinthestudentsnexttoIraAldridge
Theater,whereDonnyHathawayhadoncesung,whereDonaldByrdhad
onceassembledhisflock.Thestudentscameoutwiththeirsaxophones,
trumpets,anddrums,playedMyFavoriteThingsorSomedayMyPrince
WillCome.Someoftheotherstudentswereoutonthegrassinfrontof
AlainLockeHall,inpinkandgreen,chanting,singing,stomping,clapping,
stepping.SomeofthemcameupfromTubmanQuadranglewiththeir
roommatesandropefordoubleDutch.SomeofthemcamedownfromDrew
Hall,withtheircapscockedandtheirbackpacksslungthroughonearm,then
fellintogorgeousciphersofbeatboxandrhyme.Someofthegirlssatbythe
flagpolewithbellhooksandSoniaSanchezintheirstrawtotes.Someofthe
boys,withtheirnewYorubanames,beseechedthesegirlsbycitingFrantz
Fanon.SomeofthemstudiedRussian.Someofthemworkedinbonelabs.
TheywerePanamanian.TheywereBajan.Andsomeofthemwerefrom
placesIhadneverheardof.Butallofthemwerehotandincredible,exotic
even,thoughwehailedfromthesametribe.

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Eric Thayer / Reuters

Now,theheirsofslaveholderscouldneverdirectlyacknowledgeourbeauty
orreckonwithitspower.Andsothebeautyoftheblackbodywasnever
celebratedinmovies,ontelevisionshows,orinthetextbooksIdseenasa
child.Everyoneofanyimport,fromJesustoGeorgeWashington,waswhite.
ThiswaswhyyourgrandparentsbannedTarzanandtheLoneRangerand
toyswithwhitefacesfromthehouse.Theywererebellingagainstthehistory
booksthatspokeofblackpeopleonlyassentimentalfirstsfirstblackfourstargeneral,firstblackcongressman,firstblackmayoralwayspresentedin
thebemusedmannerofacategoryofTrivialPursuit.Serioushistorywasthe
West,andtheWestwaswhite.ThiswasalldistilledformeinaquoteIonce
read,fromthenovelistSaulBellow.IcantrememberwhereIreadit,orwhen
onlythatIwasalreadyatHoward.WhoistheTolstoyoftheZulus?,
Bellowquipped.Tolstoywaswhite,Iunderstoodhimtosay,andsoTolstoy
mattered,likeeverythingelsethatwaswhitemattered.Andthisviewof
thingswasconnectedtothefearthatpassedthroughthegenerations,tothe
senseofdispossession.Wewereblack,beyondthevisiblespectrum,beyond
civilization.Ourhistorywasinferiorbecausewewereinferior,whichistosay
ourbodieswereinferior.Andourinferiorbodiescouldnotpossiblybe
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accordedthesamerespectasthosethatbuilttheWest.Woulditnotbe
better,then,ifourbodieswerecivilized,improved,andputtosome
legitimateChristianuse?
AndsoIcametoHowardtotinganewanddifferenthistory,mythreally,
whichinvertedallthestoriesofthepeoplewhobelievedthemselvestobe
white.Imajoredinhistorywithallthemotivesofamanlookingtofilla
trophycase.Theyhadheroes,sowemusthaveheroestoo.Butmyhistory
professorsthoughtnothingoftellingmethatmysearchformythwas
doomed,thatthestoriesIwantedtotellmyselfcouldnotbematchedto
truths.Indeed,theyfeltittheirdutytodisabusemeofmyweaponized
history.Theirmethodwasroughanddirect.Didblackskinreallyconvey
nobility?Always?Yes.Whatabouttheblackswhodpracticedslaveryfor
millenniaandsoldslavesacrosstheSaharaandthenacrossthesea?Victims
ofatrick.Wouldthosebethesameblackkingswhobirthedallofcivilization?
Weretheythenbothdeposedmastersofthegalaxyandgulliblepuppetsallat
once?AndwhatdidImeanbyblack?Youknow,black.DidIthinkthisa
timelesscategorystretchingintothedeeppast?Yes?Coulditbesupposed
thatsimplybecausecolorwasimportanttome,ithadalwaysbeenso?
Thisheapofrealizationswasaweight.Ifoundthemphysicallypainfuland
exhausting.True,Iwascomingtoenjoythedizziness,thevertigothatmust
comewithanyodyssey.Butinthoseearlymoments,theunceasing
contradictionssentmeintoagloom.Therewasnothingholyorparticularin
myskin;Iwasblackbecauseofhistoryandheritage.Therewasnonobilityin
falling,inbeingbound,inlivingoppressed,andtherewasnoinherent
meaninginblackblood.Blackbloodwasntblack;blackskinwasnteven
black.AndnowIlookedbackonmyneedforatrophycase,onthedesireto
livebythestandardsofSaulBellow,andIfeltthatthisneedwasnotan
escapebutfearagainfearthatthey,theallegedauthorsandheirsofthe
universe,wereright.Andthisfearransodeepthatweacceptedtheir
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standardsofcivilizationandhumanity.

They made us into a race. We made ourselves into a

people.
Butnotallofus.ItmusthavebeenaroundthattimethatIdiscoveredan
essaybyRalphWileyinwhichherespondedtoBellowsquip.Tolstoyisthe
TolstoyoftheZulus,wroteWiley.Unlessyoufindaprofitinfencingoff
universalpropertiesofmankindintoexclusivetribalownership.Andthereit
was.IhadacceptedBellowspremise.Infact,BellowwasnoclosertoTolstoy
thanIwastoNzinga.AndifIwerecloseritwouldbebecauseIchosetobe,
notbecauseofdestinywritteninDNA.MygreaterrorwasnotthatIhad
acceptedsomeoneelsesdreambutthatIhadacceptedthefactofdreams,
theneedforescape,andtheinventionofracecraft.
AndstillandallIknewthatweweresomething,thatwewereatribeonone
hand,invented,andontheother,nolessreal.Therealitywasoutthereon
theYard,onthefirstwarmdayofspringwhenitseemedthateverysector,
borough,affiliation,county,andcornerofthebroaddiasporahadsenta
delegatetothegreatworldparty.IrememberthosedayslikeanOutKast
song,paintedinlustandjoy.Theblackworldwasexpandingbeforeme,andI
couldseenowthatthatworldwasmorethanaphotonegativeofthatofthe
peoplewhobelievetheyarewhite.WhiteAmericaisasyndicatearrayedto
protectitsexclusivepowertodominateandcontrolourbodies.Sometimes
thispowerisdirect(lynching),andsometimesitisinsidious(redlining).But
howeveritappears,thepowerofdominationandexclusioniscentraltothe
beliefinbeingwhite,andwithoutit,whitepeoplewouldceasetoexistfor
wantofreasons.Therewillsurelyalwaysbepeoplewithstraighthairand
blueeyes,astherehavebeenforallofhistory.Butsomeofthesestraighthairedpeoplewithblueeyeshavebeenblack,andthispointstothegreat
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differencebetweentheirworldandours.Wedidnotchooseourfences.They
wereimposedonusbyVirginiaplantersobsessedwithenslavingasmany
Americansaspossible.NowIsawthatwehadmadesomethingdownhere,in
slavery,inJimCrow,inghettoes.AtTheMeccaIsawhowwehadtakentheir
one-dropruleandflippedit.Theymadeusintoarace.Wemadeourselves
intoapeople.
AndwhatdidthatmeanfortheDreamersIdseenasachild?CouldIever
wanttogetintotheworldtheymade?No.Iwasbornamongapeople,
Samori,andinthatrealizationIknewthatIwasoutofsomething.Itwasthe
psychosisofquestioningmyself,ofconstantlywonderingifIcouldmeasure
up.Butthewholetheorywaswrong,theirwholenotionofracewaswrong.
Andapprehendingthat,Ifeltmyfirstmeasureoffreedom.
Thisrealizationwasimportantbutintellectual.Itcouldnotsavemybody.
Indeed,itmademeunderstandwhatthelossofallourblackbodiesreally
meant.Nooneofuswereblackpeople.Wewereindividuals,aoneofone,
andwhenwediedtherewasnothing.AlwaysrememberthatTrayvonMartin
wasaboy,thatTamirRicewasaparticularboy,thatJordanDaviswasaboy,
likeyou.Whenyouhearthesenamesthinkofallthewealthpouredinto
them.Thinkofthegasolineexpended,thetreadsworncartinghimtofootball
games,basketballtournaments,andLittleLeague.Thinkofthetimespent
regulatingsleepovers.Thinkofthesurprisebirthdayparties,thedaycare,
andthereferencechecksonbabysitters.Thinkofcheckswrittenforfamily
photos.Thinkofsoccerballs,sciencekits,chemistrysets,racetracks,and
modeltrains.Thinkofalltheembraces,alltheprivatejokes,customs,
greetings,names,dreams,allthesharedknowledgeandcapacityofablack
familyinjectedintothatvesseloffleshandbone.Andthinkofhowthatvessel
wastaken,shatteredontheconcrete,andallitsholycontents,allthathad
goneintoeachofthem,wassentflowingbacktotheearth.Itisterribleto
trulyseeourparticularbeauty,Samori,becausethenyouseethescopeofthe
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loss.Butyoumustpushevenfurther.Youmustseethatthislossismandated
bythehistoryofyourcountry,bytheDreamoflivingwhite.

Lucy Nicholson / Reuters

rememberthatsummerthatyoumaywellrememberwhenIloadedyou
andyourcousinChristopherintothebackseatofarentedcarandpushed
outtoseewhatremainedofPetersburg,ShirleyPlantation,andthe

Wilderness.IwasobsessedwiththeCivilWarbecausesixhundredthousand
peoplehaddiedinit.Andyetithadbeenglossedoverinmyeducation,and
inpopularculture,representationsofthewaranditsreasonsseemed
obscured.AndyetIknewthatin1859wewereenslavedandin1865we
werenot,andwhathappenedtousinthoseyearsstruckmeashavingsome
amountofimport.ButwheneverIvisitedanyofthebattlefields,IfeltlikeI
wasgreetedasifIwereanosyaccountantconductinganauditandsomeone
wastryingtohidethebooks.

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IdontknowifyourememberhowthefilmwesawatthePetersburg
BattlefieldendedasthoughthefalloftheConfederacyweretheonsetofa
tragedy,notjubilee.Idoubtyourememberthemanonourtourdressedin
thegraywooloftheConfederacy,orhoweveryvisitorseemedmost
interestedinflankingmaneuvers,hardtack,smoothborerifles,grapeshot,
andironclads,butvirtuallynoonewasinterestedinwhatallofthis
engineering,invention,anddesignhadbeenmarshaledtoachieve.Youwere
only10yearsold.ButeventhenIknewthatImusttroubleyou,andthis
meanttakingyouintoroomswherepeoplewouldinsultyourintelligence,
wherethieveswouldtrytoenlistyouinyourownrobberyanddisguisetheir
burningandlootingasChristiancharity.Butrobberyiswhatthisis,whatit
alwayswas.
AttheonsetoftheCivilWar,ourstolenbodieswereworth$4billion,more
thanallofAmericanindustry,allofAmericanrailroads,workshops,and
factoriescombined,andtheprimeproductrenderedbyourstolenbodies
cottonwasAmericasprimaryexport.TherichestmeninAmericalivedin
theMississippiRiverValley,andtheymadetheirrichesoffourstolenbodies.
Ourbodieswereheldinbondagebytheearlypresidents.Ourbodieswere
tradedfromtheWhiteHousebyJamesK.Polk.OurbodiesbuilttheCapitol
andtheNationalMall.ThefirstshotoftheCivilWarwasfiredinSouth
Carolina,whereourbodiesconstitutedthemajorityofhumanbodiesinthe
state.Hereisthemotiveforthegreatwar.Itsnotasecret.Butwecando
betterandfindthebanditconfessinghiscrime.Ourpositionisthoroughly
identifiedwiththeinstitutionofslavery,declaredMississippiasitleftthe
Union,thegreatestmaterialinterestoftheworld.
ButAmericanreunionwasbuiltonacomfortablenarrativethatmade
enslavementintobenevolence,whiteknightsofbodysnatchers,andthe
massslaughterofthewarintoakindofsportinwhichonecouldconclude
thatbothsidesconductedtheiraffairswithcourage,honor,andlan.Thislie
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oftheCivilWaristhelieofinnocence,istheDream.Historiansconjuredthe
Dream.HollywoodfortifiedtheDream.TheDreamwasgildedbynovelsand
adventurestories.JohnCarterfleesthebrokenConfederacyforMars.Weare
notsupposedtoaskwhat,precisely,hewasrunningfrom.I,likeeverykidI
knew,lovedTheDukesofHazzard.ButIwouldhavedonewelltothinkmore
aboutwhytwooutlaws,drivingacarnamedtheGeneralLee,must
necessarilybeportrayedasjustsomegoodoleboys,nevermeaninno
harmamantrafortheDreamersifthereeverwasone.Butwhatone
meansisneitherimportantnorrelevant.Itisnotnecessarythatyoubelieve
thattheofficerwhochokedEricGarnersetoutthatdaytodestroyabody.All
youneedtounderstandisthattheofficercarrieswithhimthepowerofthe
AmericanstateandtheweightofanAmericanlegacy,andtheynecessitate
thatofthebodiesdestroyedeveryyear,somewildanddisproportionate
numberofthemwillbeblack.
HereiswhatIwouldlikeforyoutoknow:InAmerica,itistraditionalto
destroytheblackbodyitisheritage.Enslavementwasnotmerelythe
antisepticborrowingoflaboritisnotsoeasytogetahumanbeingto
committheirbodyagainstitsownelementalinterest.Andsoenslavement
mustbecasualwrathandrandommanglings,thegashingofheadsandbrains
blownoutovertheriverasthebodyseekstoescape.Itmustberapeso
regularastobeindustrial.Thereisnoupliftingwaytosaythis.Ihaveno
praiseanthems,noroldNegrospirituals.Thespiritandsoularethebodyand
brain,whicharedestructiblethatispreciselywhytheyaresoprecious.And
thesouldidnotescape.Thespiritdidnotstealawayongospelwings.The
soulwasthebodythatfedthetobacco,andthespiritwasthebloodthat
wateredthecotton,andthesecreatedthefirstfruitsoftheAmericangarden.
Andthefruitsweresecuredthroughthebashingofchildrenwithstovewood,
throughhotironpeelingskinawaylikehuskfromcorn.
Ithadtobeblood.Ithadtobethethrashingofkitchenhandsforthecrimeof
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churningbutterataleisurelyclip.Ithadtobesomewomancheard...with
thirtylashesaSaturdaylastandasmanymoreaTuesdayagain.Itcould
onlybetheemploymentofcarriagewhips,tongs,ironpokers,handsaws,
stones,paperweights,orwhatevermightbehandytobreaktheblackbody,
theblackfamily,theblackcommunity,theblacknation.Thebodieswere
pulverizedintostockandmarkedwithinsurance.Andthebodieswerean
aspiration,lucrativeasIndianland,averanda,abeautifulwife,orasummer
homeinthemountains.Forthemenwhoneededtobelievethemselves
white,thebodieswerethekeytoasocialclub,andtherighttobreakthe
bodieswasthemarkofcivilization.Thetwogreatdivisionsofsocietyarenot
therichandpoor,butwhiteandblack,saidthegreatSouthCarolinasenator
JohnC.Calhoun.Andalltheformer,thepooraswellastherich,belongto
theupperclass,andarerespectedandtreatedasequals.Andthereitisthe
righttobreaktheblackbodyasthemeaningoftheirsacredequality.Andthat
righthasalwaysgiventhemmeaning,hasalwaysmeantthattherewas
someonedowninthevalleybecauseamountainisnotamountainifthereis
nothingbelow.

The terrible truth is that we cannot will ourselves to

an escape on our own.
YouandI,myson,arethatbelow.Thatwastruein1776.Itistruetoday.
Thereisnothemwithoutyou,andwithouttherighttobreakyoutheymust
necessarilyfallfromthemountain,losetheirdivinity,andtumbleoutofthe
Dream.Andthentheywouldhavetodeterminehowtobuildtheirsuburbson
somethingotherthanhumanbones,howtoangletheirjailstoward
somethingotherthanahumanstockyard,howtoerectademocracy
independentofcannibalism.Iwouldliketotellyouthatsuchaday
approacheswhenthepeoplewhobelievethemselvestobewhiterenounce
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thisdemonreligionandbegintothinkofthemselvesashuman.ButIcansee
norealpromiseofsuchaday.Wearecaptured,brother,surroundedbythe
majoritarianbanditsofAmerica.Andthishashappenedhere,inouronly
home,andtheterribletruthisthatwecannotwillourselvestoanescapeon
ourown.

Lucy Nicholson / Reuters

utstillyoumuststruggle.TheStruggleisinyourname,Samoriyou
werenamedforSamoriTour,whostruggledagainstFrench
colonizersfortherighttohisownblackbody.Hediedincaptivity,

buttheprofitsofthatstruggleandotherslikeitareours,evenwhentheobject
ofourstruggle,asissooftentrue,escapesourgrasp.
Ithinknowoftheoldrulethatheldthatshouldaboybesetuponinsomeone
elseschancyhood,hisfriendsmuststandwithhim,andtheymustalltake
theirbeatingtogether.Inowknowthatwithinthisedictlaythekeytoall
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living.Noneofuswerepromisedtoendthefightonourfeet,fistsraisedto
thesky.Wecouldnotcontrolourenemiesnumber,strength,orweaponry.
Sometimesyoujustcaughtabadone.Butwhetheryoufoughtorran,youdid
ittogether,becausethatisthepartthatwasinourcontrol.Whatwemust
neverdoiswillinglyhandoverourownbodiesorthebodiesofourfriends.
Thatwasthewisdom:Weknewwedidnotlaydownthedirectionofthe
street,butdespitethat,wecouldandmustfashionthewayofourwalk.
Andthatisthedeepermeaningofyournamethatthestruggle,inandof
itself,hasmeaning.

Our triumphs can never redeem this. Perhaps our

triumphs are not even the point. Perhaps struggle is
all we have.
Thatwisdomisnotuniquetoourpeople,butIthinkithasspecialmeaningto
thoseofusbornoutofmassrape,whoseancestorswerecarriedoffand
dividedupintopoliciesandstocks.Ihaveraisedyoutorespecteveryhuman
beingassingular,andyoumustextendthatsamerespectintothepast.
Slaveryisnotanindefinablemassofflesh.Itisaparticular,specificenslaved
woman,whosemindisasactiveasyourown,whoserangeoffeelingisasvast
asyourown;whoprefersthewaythelightfallsinoneparticularspotinthe
woods,whoenjoysfishingwherethewatereddiesinanearbystream,who
loveshermotherinherowncomplicatedway,thinkshersistertalkstooloud,
hasafavoritecousin,afavoriteseason,whoexcelsatdressmakingand
knows,insideherself,thatsheisasintelligentandcapableasanyone.
Slaveryisthissamewomanborninaworldthatloudlyproclaimsitsloveof
freedomandinscribesthisloveinitsessentialtexts,aworldinwhichthese
sameprofessorsholdthiswomanaslave,holdhermotheraslave,herfather
aslave,herdaughteraslave,andwhenthiswomanpeersbackintothe
generationsallsheseesistheenslaved.Shecanhopeformore.Shecan
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imaginesomefutureforhergrandchildren.Butwhenshedies,theworld
whichisreallytheonlyworldshecaneverknowends.Forthiswoman,
enslavementisnotaparable.Itisdamnation.Itisthenever-endingnight.
Andthelengthofthatnightismostofourhistory.Neverforgetthatwewere
enslavedinthiscountrylongerthanwehavebeenfree.Neverforgetthatfor
250yearsblackpeoplewerebornintochainswholegenerationsfollowedby
moregenerationswhoknewnothingbutchains.
Youmuststruggletotrulyrememberthispast.Youmustresistthecommon
urgetowardthecomfortingnarrativeofdivinelaw,towardfairytalesthat
implysomeirrepressiblejustice.Theenslavedwerenotbricksinyourroad,
andtheirliveswerenotchaptersinyourredemptivehistory.Theywere
peopleturnedtofuelfortheAmericanmachine.Enslavementwasnot
destinedtoend,anditiswrongtoclaimourpresentcircumstancenomatter
howimprovedastheredemptionforthelivesofpeoplewhoneveraskedfor
theposthumous,untouchablegloryofdyingfortheirchildren.Ourtriumphs
canneverredeemthis.Perhapsourtriumphsarenoteventhepoint.Perhaps
struggleisallwehave.Soyoumustwakeupeverymorningknowingthatno
naturalpromiseisunbreakable,leastofallthepromiseofwakingupatall.
Thisisnotdespair.Thesearethepreferencesoftheuniverseitself:verbsover
nouns,actionsoverstates,struggleoverhope.
Thebirthofabetterworldisnotultimatelyuptoyou,thoughIknow,each
day,therearegrownmenandwomenwhotellyouotherwise.Iamnota
cynic.Iloveyou,andIlovetheworld,andIloveitmorewitheverynewinchI
discover.Butyouareablackboy,andyoumustberesponsibleforyourbody
inawaythatotherboyscannotknow.Indeed,youmustberesponsibleforthe
worstactionsofotherblackbodies,which,somehow,willalwaysbeassigned
toyou.Andyoumustberesponsibleforthebodiesofthepowerfulthe
policemanwhocracksyouwithanightstickwillquicklyfindhisexcusein
yourfurtivemovements.Youhavetomakeyourpeacewiththechaos,but
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youcannotlie.Youcannotforgethowmuchtheytookfromusandhowthey
transfiguredourverybodiesintosugar,tobacco,cotton,andgold.
PerhapsyourememberthattimewewenttoseeHowlsMovingCastleonthe
UpperWestSide.Youwerealmost5yearsold.Thetheaterwascrowded,and
whenwecameoutwerodeasetofescalatorsdowntothegroundfloor.Aswe
cameoff,youweremovingatthedawdlingspeedofasmallchild.Awhite
womanpushedyouandsaid,Comeon!Manythingsnowhappenedat
once.Therewasthereactionofanyparentwhenastrangerputsahandonthe
bodyoftheirchild.Andtherewasmyowninsecurityinmyabilitytoprotect
yourblackbody.Andmore:Therewasmysensethatthiswomanwaspulling
rank.Iknew,forinstance,thatshewouldnothavepushedablackchildout
onmypartofFlatbush,becauseshewouldbeafraidthereandwouldsense,if
notknow,thattherewouldbeapenaltyforsuchanaction.ButIwasnotout
onmypartofFlatbush.AndIwasnotinWestBaltimore.Iforgotallofthat.I
wasonlyawarethatsomeonehadinvokedtheirrightoverthebodyofmy
son.Iturnedandspoketothiswoman,andmywordswerehotwithallofthe
momentandallofmyhistory.Sheshrankback,shocked.Awhiteman
standingnearbyspokeupinherdefense.Iexperiencedthisashisattemptto
rescuethedamselfromthebeast.Hehadmadenosuchattemptonbehalfof
myson.Andhewasnowsupportedbyotherwhitepeopleintheassembling
crowd.Themancamecloser.Hegrewlouder.Ipushedhimaway.Hesaid,I
couldhaveyouarrested!Ididnotcare.Itoldhimthis,andthedesiretodo
muchmorewashotinmythroat.ThisdesirewasonlycontrollablebecauseI
rememberedsomeonestandingofftothesidethere,bearingwitnesstomore
furythanhehadeverseenfrommeyou.
Icamehomeshook.Itwasamixofshameforhavinggonebacktothelawof
thestreets,andrageIcouldhaveyouarrested!Whichistosay:Icould
takeyourbody.

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Sait Serkan / Reuters

Ihavetoldthisstorymanytimes,notoutofbravado,butoutofaneedfor
absolution.ButmorethananyshameIfelt,mygreatestregretwasthatin
seekingtodefendyouIwas,infact,endangeringyou.
Icouldhaveyouarrested,hesaid.Whichistosay:Oneofyoursons
earliestmemorieswillbewatchingthemenwhosodomizedAbnerLouima
andchokedAnthonyBaezcuff,club,tase,andbreakyou.Ihadforgotten
therules,anerrorasdangerousontheUpperWestSideofManhattanason
theWestSideofBaltimore.Onemustbewithouterrorouthere.Walkin
singlefile.Workquietly.PackanextraNo.2pencil.Makenomistakes.
Butyouarehumanandyouwillmakemistakes.Youwillmisjudge.Youwill
yell.Youwilldrinktoomuch.Youwillhangoutwithpeoplewhomyou
shouldnt.NotallofuscanalwaysbeJackieRobinsonnotevenJackie
RobinsonwasalwaysJackieRobinson.Butthepriceoferrorishigherforyou
thanitisforyourcountrymen,andsothatAmericamightjustifyitself,the
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storyofablackbodysdestructionmustalwaysbeginwithhisorhererror,
realorimaginedwithEricGarnersanger,withTrayvonMartinsmythical
words(Youaregonnadietonight),withSeanBellsmistakeofrunningwith
thewrongcrowd,withmestandingtooclosetothesmall-eyedboypulling
out.
Youarecalledtostruggle,notbecauseitassuresyouvictorybutbecauseit
assuresyouanhonorableandsanelife.IamashamedofhowIactedthatday,
ashamedofendangeringyourbody.IamashamedthatImadeanerror,
knowingthatourerrorsalwayscostusmore.

I never wanted you to be twice as good as them, so

much as I have always wanted you to attack every day
of your brief bright life determined to struggle.
IamsorrythatIcannotmakeitokay.IamsorrythatIcannotsaveyoubut
notthatsorry.Partofmethinksthatyourveryvulnerabilitybringsyoucloser
tothemeaningoflife,justasforothers,thequesttobelieveoneselfwhite
dividesthemfromit.Thefactisthatdespitetheirdreams,theirlivesarealso
notinviolable.Whentheirownvulnerabilitybecomesrealwhenthepolice
decidethattacticsintendedfortheghettoshouldenjoywiderusage,when
theirarmedsocietyshootsdowntheirchildren,whennaturesends
hurricanesagainsttheircitiestheyareshockedbytheragesoflogicandthe
naturalworldinawaythatthoseofuswhowerebornandbredtounderstand
causeandeffectcanneverbe.AndIwouldnothaveyoulivelikethem.You
havebeencastintoaraceinwhichthewindisalwaysatyourfaceandthe
houndsarealwaysatyourheels.Andtovaryingdegreesthisistrueofalllife.
Thedifferenceisthatyoudonothavetheprivilegeoflivinginignoranceof
thisessentialfact.

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IamspeakingtoyouasIalwayshavetreatingyouasthesoberandserious
manIhavealwayswantedyoutobe,whodoesnotapologizeforhishuman
feelings,whodoesnotmakeexcusesforhisheight,hislongarms,his
beautifulsmile.Youaregrowingintoconsciousness,andmywishforyouis
thatyoufeelnoneedtoconstrictyourselftomakeotherpeoplecomfortable.
Noneofthatcanchangethemathanyway.Ineverwantedyoutobetwiceas
goodasthem,somuchasIhavealwayswantedyoutoattackeverydayof
yourbriefbrightlifedeterminedtostruggle.Thepeoplewhomustbelieve
theyarewhitecanneverbeyourmeasuringstick.Iwouldnothaveyou
descendintoyourowndream.Iwouldhaveyoubeaconsciouscitizenofthis
terribleandbeautifulworld.

This article is adapted from Coatess forthcoming book, Between the World and Me.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

TA-NEHISI COATES is a national correspondent at The Atlantic, where he writes about
culture, politics, and social issues. He is the author of The Beautiful Struggle and the
forthcoming Between the World and Me.
Twitter

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