67 pages • 2 hours read
Rankine and her husband, John Lucas, are sitting in the office of a blonde marriage counselor who was clearly once a brunette. She wonders if the therapist colored her hair to make herself more desirable outside the office or relatable within it. She wonders how she would fit into this construction of desirability and relatability.
Rankine talks about her year of chemotherapy and radiation, about how much better she now feels. The fear of imminent death, however, resulted in Rankine telling her husband that she needed, in the time she had left, “to find a partner who would make [her] laugh” (75). This comment resulted in them going to marriage counseling. Rankine and John have spent decades working together and commiserating over various displays of police brutality, including a Black girl being thrown to the floor of a classroom by a resource officer and a Black girl being thrown to the ground by a white policeman while attending a pool party in McKinney, Texas. John has calmed Rankine’s anger when she was “confronted by inequity” and she calmed his anger when he was “confronted by bureaucracy” (75).
During their counseling session, John tells the therapist how much it pained him to hear Rankine encourage him to find someone new. Given his race and his looks, she surmised, he would have no trouble replacing her. The therapist asks Rankine if she values herself. Rankine says that she does, while wondering if the therapist understands how Black women are usually treated. She then asks if Rankine understands how much John values her. Rankine gets the therapist’s point but reminds her that John is still a member of white America. Rankine thinks that reminding John of his whiteness will remind him that, even if his wife dies, he’ll still win.
Rankine thinks about Beyoncé’s visual album, Lemonade, which addresses the singer’s experience of infidelity and the impact of a legacy of racism on Black families. Beyoncé is positing that history was colluding to destroy her marriage, and Rankine knows that the singer isn’t wrong. Rankine thinks about her own marriage, about the times when she and John were pulled over by police in New York City and New Jersey and asked if they knew one another. She thinks of all the spaces that John enters, while she is stopped at the entrance. There are, too, all the white women who have flirted with her husband in Rankine’s presence.
Rankine considers poet Erica Hunt’s definition of love, “a close reading [that helps] me invent myself more—in the future,” the most “workable definition” of love that she can find (80). The counselor tells Rankine that, even if white men can have all the potential female partners they want, in a society designed to support them with images of their perceived attractiveness, that still didn’t mean, the therapist suggested, that John would not be hurt if Rankine were gone.
Rankine contemplates photographer Paul Graham’s Woman with Arms Outstretched, an image in his American Night series. The viewer “must travel through a cloudy veil to arrive at a human object” (85). The human being in the center of the photo is a Black woman. Are her arms outstretched in yearning or to signal an arrival? Graham is white. Rankine wonders if the white haze in which the woman stands is a metaphor for what he has been conditioned not to see. Graham says that he “wishes to communicate the difficulty of knowing through seeing” (85).
Rankine is living during a time in which a white terrorist has shot 11 people in a synagogue; neo-Nazis marched through Charlottesville, Virginia, two summers earlier denouncing supposed attempts to replace them; a white nationalist shot two Black people in a Kroger’s supermarket after being unable to enter a Black church; and a white Supremacist “described as having sad eyes” killed nine people in Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church (90).
At her own home, Rankine has been the recipient of hate mail. A white friend advises her against opening packages inside her own home. Another white friend tells Rankine that she has to defend Rankine against charges from her own white friends who think that Rankine is a radical. Rankine tells the woman not to defend her for acting like a human being, for asserting that people should be allowed to live.
Rankine is expected at her daughter’s parent-teacher conference, but she wants to stay home. She goes anyway with her husband, John. He remarks on how he doesn’t see any teachers of color in the school’s gymnasium, where the conference takes place. They eventually find two Black teachers. Both John and Rankine know that their daughter is fond of the school and her instructors.
Rankine wonders if her daughter has the same concerns that Rankine did when she was in high school. She also wonders what she would “need to feel” to believe that her daughter would be allotted the space that she would require just to exist as herself in the classroom (94). Rankine then wonders what she herself would need to feel more at ease.
Rankine’s high school years were defined by white private and Catholic school teachers who “went out of their way to help [her]” (94). Still, for every teacher who was supportive, there were several who rendered her invisible. Even then, when Rankine noticed how they actively ignored her raised hand, she understood their behavior as something typical of white people—an instinctive mode, rather than a responsive one.
Rankine asks a white female friend with three racially diverse children, all now adults, if she had ever worried about her children’s treatment at school. The friend’s children are Black-identified. However, she never worried about their treatment in a predominately white school. Then, she remembers the teacher who asked her how old the children were when she adopted them. The friend realizes that she may have been too naïve to understand the question at the time.
Rankine thinks about “the District 3 public school debate on the Upper West Side and in South Harlem” when a neighborhood full of progressive white people resisted an effort to make 25 percent of their predominately white public middle schools open to Black and brown children (97). The prospective incoming children would have been those who scored below standard on proficiency tests and who qualified for free or reduced-cost lunches. A school principal was flummoxed by the parents’ outrage. His surprise surprised Rankine, who wonders what population the man thought he was working within.
One white parent within the debate claimed that the unprepared students would suffer from “imposter syndrome.” Rankine wonders if the man believed that the children would pretend to be white or pretend to be educated. Another white parent admits that school integration is “scary,” even when it’s the right thing to do. Rankine wonders if he regards “proximity to nonwhites [as] a threat” (98). Then, there are those Black people who are embarrassed by the poverty of other Black people “because they see life through the judging lenses of white discrimination and understand their own exceptionalism as tenuous” (98).
A legislative bill that would have replaced the standardized test and given “the top children from all the city’s middle schools access to free magnet schools” never made it to a vote (99). New York Times reporters Eliza Shapiro and Vivian Wang wrote that some Asian families claimed that Mayor Bill DeBlasio’s plan would discriminate against low-income Asian students. The reporters also noted that, at the elite Stuyvesant High School, only seven seats out of 895 went to Black students in 2019. Rankine concludes that some Asian parents have usurped the “racially coded rhetoric” that one typically hears from white people (99).
Rankine opens this section within the intimate interpersonal space of a marriage counselor’s office and shifts to that of a photo, which encapsulates a lived moment. In both the counselor’s office and the photograph, a Black woman’s life becomes a matter of interpretation, easily misunderstood by those who fix their gaze upon her.
Rankine’s interracial marriage to John Lucas is a personal, political, and creative partnership. However, her cancer scare makes her wonder if she would be happier with someone who regularly makes her laugh. This desire to inject levity into her romantic and domestic lives may be a wish to find someone who can reach her on a more common ground, which is necessary for comedy to be understood. There is, thus, an underlying suggestion that this imagined partner would be Black. Rankine doesn’t worry about her husband being lonely because she imagines that there are many white female prospective partners for him.
In this marital context, Rankine returns to the theme of invisibility. She notes how invisible she sometimes feels within her own marriage when she and Lucas go out in public. This invisibility is related to the relatively recent legitimacy of unions between white men and Black women. Historically, sex between these groups was clandestine and was usually the result of rape or concubinage.
In any case, Rankine struggles to be seen, like the woman in Graham’s photograph, who is obscured by a white haze. The haze symbolizes all of the ways in which she may be misperceived, even when standing in plain sight. Both the woman in the photograph and Rankine in public with her husband become metaphors for attempts to diminish or obliterate Black women’s subjectivity, and even their acknowledged presences. In contrast, the protest in Charlottesville—a reaction to news that the town would remove the bronze statue of Confederate General Robert E. Lee from Market Street Park—and meditations on church shooter Dylan Roof’s “sad eyes” grant subjectivity even to those who commit or support white supremacist acts. Reports in both GQ and the New Yorker have remarked on the perceived sadness in Roof’s eyes. These journalistic attempts to understand the supposed complexity of white supremacists, such as Roof, counter one-dimensional narratives about victims of white supremacist violence, such as Trayvon Martin, which underscored the image of Martin as a “thug.”
The section concludes with Rankine’s meditation on Black life in a space that hovers between the private and the public—a school classroom. Rankine’s worry that her daughter may have had some of the same experiences that characterized Rankine’s high school years is a result of both the persistence of racial trauma and the awareness that institutionalized racism still negatively impacts Black student performance. Rankine notes that her student years were marked by being regarded as either a charity case or someone unworthy of attention.
Rankine’s mention of the District 3 school debate is an example of how, even so-called progressives, resist efforts at school desegregation. The debate over school desegregation, which started with the 1954 Brown v. Board of Education ruling, has historically focused on Southern resistance, particularly efforts to terrorize the nine Black students who integrated Little Rock High School in 1957. However, efforts to integrate Northern public schools have also been met with racist violence, notably in Boston where white residents violently resisted a busing program instituted in the mid-1970s to desegregate public schools. Rankine also notes how internalized racism among middle-class Black people can cause them to remain complicitly silent during such debates, out of fear of how they will be perceived alongside lower-income Black people. This fear, Rankine suggests, would threaten their already tenuous proximity to the predominately white upper middle-class. Fear of the white gaze among middle-class Black people has discouraged alliances between Black people of different classes, as the former tries to distinguish itself as assimilable and devoid of the stereotypical behaviors that many whites associate with Black people from lower economic classes.
Plus, gain access to 8,800+ more expert-written Study Guides.
Including features:
By Claudia Rankine
Books About Art
View Collection
Books on Justice & Injustice
View Collection
Contemporary Books on Social Justice
View Collection
Essays & Speeches
View Collection
Memoir
View Collection
Politics & Government
View Collection
Sexual Harassment & Violence
View Collection
The Best of "Best Book" Lists
View Collection