| Title | : | Theres a Revolution Outside, My Love: Letters from a Crisis |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 0593314697 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780593314692 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 320 |
| Publication | : | First published May 11, 2021 |
We are living through an unprecedented, revolutionary era. Across the country, people are losing their loved ones, their livelihoods, their homes, and even their own lives to COVID-19. Despite the pandemic, countless protests erupted this summer over the recurring loss of Black lives. Shock and outrage reverberated. There's a Revolution Outside, My Love captures and gives voice to all of these roiling sentiments that were unleashed in a profoundly affecting time.
Beginning with a heart-rending poem by masterful poet Patricia Smith that grieves the murder of George Floyd, among others--the pieces in this anthology fan out from there, offering a kaleidoscopic and intimate view of the change we all underwent. Composed of searing letters, essays, poems, reflections, and screeds, There's a Revolution Outside, My Love highlights the work of some of our most powerful and treasured writers. They hail from across a range of backgrounds and from almost all fifty states. Between them, have brought home four Pulitzers, two National Book Awards, a fistful of Whitings, and numerous citations in best American poetry, short story, and essay compilations. They are noisy with beauty, and their pieces ring out.
Galvanizing and lyrical, this is a deeply profound anthology of writing filled with pain and beauty, warmth and intimacy. A remarkable feat of empathy, There's a Revolution Outside, My Love offers solace in a time of swirling protest, change, and violence--reminding us of the human scale of the upheaval, and providing hope for a kinder future.
Theres a Revolution Outside, My Love: Letters from a Crisis Reviews
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2020 will go down in history for multiple reasons. For the vast majority of the world’s population it was downright terrible, ushering in a global pandemic that kept us at home for months on end, cancelled graduations (my own daughter’s included), weddings and vacations, and had us all scrambling to find toilet paper. Millions of people lost their livelihoods and faced worries much bigger than not being able to squeeze the Charmin. 2020 also saw a reckoning in the United States; one between people of color and what felt like everybody not people of color. The summer of 2020 was one of protests, anger, fear, and demands for change. This book features the writing of prominent POC voices and how they felt and reflected on the events of that year. This book is powerful. I know how it felt to be me last summer, but I’m relatively insignificant compared to what others experienced, and this book allowed a glimpse into some of those lives. Being able to read their insights helped me to understand what they felt and how they experienced last summer. It includes poems, letters, anecdotal essays and short stories relevant to the summer of 2020 from a variety of people. I HIGHLY recommend this one.
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Even though this was a short collection, it took me a little while to get through because each essay or poem felt profound enough to take my time with. It includes Indigenous, Black, Asian-American, queer, disabled, and women writers (and of course, where each other carries multiple of these identities) specifically focusing on a response to 2020, from the beginning of Covid until Biden's election and everything in between-- some surreal and some personal narrative. So far, it has absolutely been my favorite piece that looks specifically at the experience of the 2020 uprising, and I will certainly be looking into the individual artists as well.
"The thing about Twenty-First-Century Negro Firsting (TM) is that racism-- the distraction of it, as Toni Morrison warned-- is just so boring. Yet another exhausting lack of imagination. Most days America screams to anyone who will listen how it hates me so much it would rather kill us all than let me live. Home. Our first 'reopenings' were met by multiple mass shootings. We barely discussed it. I want to cry from all this freedom." -
What an amazing reading, feeling, and thinking experience! I didn't plan it this way, but am pleased that I finished reading it on the holiday commemorating Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr's January 15 birthday. I am also reviewing the book on the holiday. This collection of 40 essays, most of them published by Lit Hub previously, deals with love, breath, family, home and writing as well as COVID 19, white supremacy, racist violence, protest, climate change, democracy, tyranny, and social transformation. I loved the flow between essays the editors curated. I enjoyed reading every essay and poem, and was so impressed with the concentrated brevity of many. I felt so connected to the writers as they reflected on living through this pandemic, which created a spring board for letting their tougher observations about American society hit deeper. I was humbled by some of the deeply personal and revealing moments these writers shared. Some of the essay have staying power and others are timely. Here are quotes from five favorites + a link–an arbitrary limitation. I preserved the order of presentation in this list.
Michael Kleber-Diggs analyzes Big Boi's "Chocolate," a club song that he claims saved his life during the summer of 2020.
"In spite of everything, we're still on our feet. And yeah, "standing rock' is doing a lot of work. I saw its connection to sexual readiness, but at first, for me, it connected the Black experience with injustice to Indigenous people's experience with injustice, to a broader injustice. It made the song intersectional. In early listening before I got the innuendo, the reference to Standing Rock seemed like a quick aside, like bringing politics to the party. It made me think even our play is serious. We're bringing sorrow to our joy now; we're multitasking emotionally, like always, because we don't have a choice" (44).
Layli Long Soldier, one of my favorite poets, contributed to the collection. Near the end she offers a summary of what she's shared.
"Though I believe the old adage that 'the pen is mightier than the sword,' I also believe that words are meager. For my paradoxes and contradictions, forgive me. But I empty my pockets–here are personal memories, something from our ancestors' words and Lakota history, knowledge about this land, a nod to our modern-day AIM warriors, love for my daughter and family, mention of a pitiful love life, my experience as a woman–it's all I have. Even if it's meager, I give to to Mr Floyd, his family and anyone affected" (66).
Nyle Fort takes an abolitionist stance in a letter to an imprisoned nephew, who remains anonymous.
"I'm talking about much more than defunding the police and toppling racist statues. I'm talking about dismantling a society that thinks it needs police, or prisons, or war, or guns, or borders, or fossil fuels, or private property, or the lie that some of God's children matter more than others.
I'm talking about building the New Ark, whence our city bears its name. Not just an exclusive vessel to withstand a storm. But a new way of journeying together" (78).
I would quote every word of Joshua Bennett's essay and poem, so here's a link to it:
Where is Black Life Lived?
Major Jackson quotes Patrick Rosal tweeting something from Kevin Quashie that has stuck with me:
"The part of Black life that you don't actually see, that they don't share with you is the part you must protect. This is love. It is no small coincidence that it is also the thing whiteness feels so awfully threatened by" (139).
Finally, I will quote Craig Santos Perez, a poet and professor from my PhD alma mater at the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa.
"What if the miracle of Jesus feeding the multitudes wasn't God's endless provision, but the gospel of human generosity? What if, when we care for each other, we resurrect our bodies, full of grace?' -
This is an absolutely beautiful compilation of letters written by people of color reflecting on the tumultuous year of 2020. I've featured my favorite letter in this post: Kamala Harris, Mass Incarceration, and Me. Reginald Dwyane Betts speaks on his experience with the criminal justice system and the complexities of incarceration. I found Betts to grapple empathetically with those on both sides of the spectrum, the victims and the perpetrators, while coming to the conclusion that there probably is not a perfect solution for restorative justice. That doesn't mean, however, that we don't continue to look for new ways to protect our communities and end violence.
This is a hard read. Authors reflect on the multiple murders of Black individuals by police, COVID-19, racial profiling, voter disenfranchisement, and more. It is, however, a very important read. I cannot recommend it enough. Take your time reading each piece and sit with it. I promise you, you will learn something. -
“No empire falls without a fight… But if there’s ever a time to slay Goliath, the time is now. And I’m talking about much more than defunding the police and toppling racist statues. I’m talking about dismantling a society that thinks it needs police, or prisons, or war, or guns, or borders, or fossil fuels, or private property, or the lie that some of God’s children matter more than others.”
A collection of letters from people of different races and socioeconomic backgrounds reflecting on the crises of a global pandemic and systemic inequality. It is upsetting and uncomfortable, but that is simply the way it is when confronting the reality of modern America. This collection was easily one of the most powerful things I’ve read this year. -
**Disclaimer** I won this ARC from a Goodreads giveaway. I wasn't required to write this review, it just seemed polite to do so after getting a free book.
This is a stunning collection of essays and poetry. A multitude of voices all reacting to the tumult of 2020, here is the necessary reminder that even amidst sorrow and anger, hope remains a powerful force.
One of the editors, Tracy K. Smith says it best in her preface:
"Perhaps you will open this book and find solace during a time of consternation. Or perhaps it will serve a use for you like that of a road map for a nation that is no longer idling, but moving clearly in one or another direction." -
"I've been looking for your Kilimanjaro sweetness everywhere, I need it now more than ever. I don't want it like a pill I might pop when my anger rises with the news of the day. I want it like a backpack. Something I might put on and tighten around my shoulders and not take off until it is time for bed. Something heavy that has the power to pull back my shoulders."
This is just one of many bits of writing which I felt got right to me. All the shared feelings as we all had different experiences over the past year and a half, this collection of writings is beautifully placed during a time it is needed. -
I’ve honestly struggled getting into other books that are collections of essays like this.. but this book was VERY easy to read through. The stories are very well written and really drive home the grief, pain, and struggles that many people (more prominently in marginalized communities) have faced over the last 3 or 4 years. I highly recommend this read to anyone facing troubles who don’t want to feel alone.
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This book is an inspiration. Thought provoking while letting the reader see into the minds of the eloquent writers. 2020 brought so many emotions to so many people. This book helped me to see that while I was having deep thoughts of what was and what was to come, others put pen to paper for this jewel. I reocmmend this book and will tell my teachers they may want to read it.
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I can’t say I enjoyed reading this book, because it outlines so many ways society, especially US society, has gotten things wrong. It can be uncomfortable, even painful, to read at times. But I think that’s what we need to do- right? Especially as a white person- like me. This was a revelatory read. I recommend it.
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Beautiful writers and story tellers, each every essayist. I was so moved by the collection of raw truth and emotion. It was therapy for my soul and a way of healing from the last 5 years in politics, pandemic and racial reckoning.
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Beautiful voices, valuable time capsule from the George Floyd moment. Savor slowly.
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This was due before I could finish.
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4.7
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An important timely book written by BIPOC following the events of the first half of 2020. Every essay was beautiful and personal.
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Excellent
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At moments hard to get through, so completely on point!
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These are wonderful, powerful, and poetic essays.
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A moving set of reflections from the depths of 2020
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THERE’S A REVOLUTION OUTSIDE, MY LOVE should be essential reading for all Americans. Edited by Tracy Smith and John Freeman, the anthology gives us a glimpse into the beating heart of some of our most esteemed writers during a time of great unrest. Tracy Smith likens the Summer of 2020 to the Freedom Summer of 1964. In 2021, there is still a battle to ensure the voting rights of black Americans. Though the murder of George Floyd caused many white Americans to acknowledge that the reign of white supremacy must end, many are floundering with what action to take. Others, zealously holding onto their power will do anything, it seems, to continue disenfranchising people of color.
The stories, poems, essays, and letters in this collection are a battle cry -- beaten down by a pandemic, police brutality, political divisiveness, and an armed insurrection – the writers question whether America has the stuff it takes to make the changes required. “As long as socio-racial segregation and discrimination persist, and as long as the presence of the state is limited to the increasingly armed police force, then neither the biggest smile nor the use of any hollow expressions of “American Nice” is going to remedy what for a very long time most people of color have lived as a daily experience of injustice in this country,” writes Sofian Merabet.
Drawing its title from a letter to her son by journalist Kirsten West Savali, the book includes writing by Edwidge Danticat, Layli Long Soldier, Julia Alvarez, and Minnesota’s own Su Hwang and Michael Kleber Diggs.
It’s been a year since George Floyd’s murder, and Michael Kleber Diggs laments:
“I wonder if I can love my white friends without being candid with them. I wonder if they can love me if I hold them at a distance, if race and racism function as a veneer, a layer between us obscuring any substance underneath. When I don’t answer fully, am I not saying I don’t trust you to do anything about it? What I wanted to say and didn’t say was this: “I’m fine today, the hard part will begin soon. The hard part for me starts when things get comfortable for you again. The hard part begins the day you return to your normal routines.”
As Su Hwang points out in her essay in the anthology:
“Many are claiming this an ‘inflection point’ in American history, myself included, but the more I think about it, the less this sentiment holds water. Inflection implies singularity, of one musculature or a single stream of consciousness, when there have been multiple inflections since the looting of this land from Native Americans to the founding of the country on the backs of Black lives. I believe we are at a point of convergence. Convergence denotes multiplicity and cumulativeness – a cacophony of voices and perspectives. In this semantic distinction, we honor the lingering ghosts of all our ancestors. We can no longer afford to pivot from one point to another and call it progress or justice; the weight of our collective histories can no longer support these blatant disparities between what is deemed progress and justice versus the lived realities of marginalized peoples. What we’re seeing and experiencing is a cavalcade of centuries of protest, of deaths and rebirths, the final heave for human decency for all.”
A revolution implies a sudden and complete change in something, but it also can be defined as a cycling of events. The murders of Daunte Wright, Rayshard Brooks, Daniel Prude, Breonna Taylor, Stephon Clark, Philando Castille, Alton Sterling, George Floyd, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Michael Brown and on and on – are a seemingly endless cycle of violence against people of color in this country.
“If there is unrest in America today,” Tracy Smith writes in the preface, “It is not because we cannot agree upon a definition of racism, as many who have argued against antiracist policies have suggested, but rather because power – especially contested power – will go to nearly any lengths to confuse, distort and render muddily abstract terms that, when power is not called into question, remain as legible and distinct as black and white.”
I recommend THERE'S A REVOLUTION OUTSIDE, MY LOVE for all Americans. This is Lin Salisbury with Superior Reviews.
