During my middle school years, I attended a middle school in Florida that was...how should I put this...underprivileged, I suppose would be the best way to phrase it. I remember that it was smack in the middle of what many called "the projects." I know I adopted that phrase, too, not knowing the origin of the term, or the loaded associations. Bottom line was, the school definitely did not reflect a solid middle-class constituency. It was a diverse group of students there, but every morning, and every afternoon, I boarded a school bus that then trundled off and deposited me into my own neighborhood, which may as well have been in another universe.
Reading Ms. McSpadden's book was a lot like taking a trip down memory lane. She and I are of a same age, so reading about her upbringing in St. Louis during the 1990s, and getting the pop culture references she made, rang very familiar with me. However, as I was reading it, I couldn't escape the feeling that her experiences, and mine, were nothing alike. We may have experienced the same events and culture, but in vastly different settings. I think that might be why it is difficult for many to read this book and really get the environment Ms. McSpadden grew up in, and later raised her children in. It's so far beyond our realm of experience, and when there is such a gap, how can we really understand?
I want to understand. And it's thanks to Ms. McSpadden's courage and honesty that I am at least able to read what it is like to be a female growing up in a racially-divided city, surrounded by a family filled with warmth and love and chaos, struggling to make the right choices when you don't have the information and resources to guide and support you. She raised her son, Michael Brown, as best she could, and worked hard to keep him in school. When he was killed by a policeman in disputed circumstances, she was left reeling from the shock and abruptness of her firstborn's violent and senseless death. She's spent her time since then trying to find justice for her son, and provide healing for others who have lost their children. In this very honest book, which perhaps deliberately presents information in a somewhat jumbled and chaotic fashion, she has given us a harsh portrait of a facet of American culture that many of us have never, will never experience firsthand--but should know about in order to understand how people, events, and geographies evolve the way they do.
It's a book about Michael Brown, but more than that, it's a book about Michael Brown's family, his life, his death, and his legacy. It's a book about the woman who gave him life and is trying to give his life meaning in death. It's a book that's going to make many of us uncomfortable, but it's not a book that we should turn away from. It's a book that throbs with raw anger, and many other emotions, and it's a book that doesn't agree with many of the outcomes of what happened in 2014. (Whether or not I agree is irrelevant.) It's a book of a mother's trauma at losing her child to violence, suddenly, a trauma that none of us should ever have to endure. It's a book made me think a lot about my fellow Americans and the vast differences between us, and the ways in which we live side by side yet worlds apart.