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Brown: What Being Brown in the World Today Means
Winner of the Shaughnessy Cohen Prize for Political Writing Finalist for the Governor General’s Literary Award for Non-fiction and the Trillium Book Award A Globe and Mail, National Post , Toronto Life , Walrus , CBC Books, Chatelaine , Hill Times , 49th Shelf and Writers’ Trust Best Book of the Year With the urgency and passion of Ta-Nehisi Coates ( Between the World and Me ), the seductive storytelling of J.D. Vance ( Hillbilly Elegy ) and the historical rigour of Carol Anderson ( White Rage ), Kamal Al-Solaylee explores the in-between space that brown people occupy in today’s on the cusp of whiteness and the edge of blackness. Brown proposes a cohesive racial identity and politics for the millions of people from the Global South and provides a timely context for the frictions and anxieties around immigration and multiculturalism that have led to the rise of populist movements in Europe and the election of Donald Trump. At once personal and global, Brown is packed with storytelling and on-the-street reporting conducted over two years in ten countries on four continents that reveals a multitude of lives and stories from destinations as far apart as the United Arab Emirates, the Philippines, the United States, Britain, Trinidad, France, Hong Kong, Sri Lanka, Qatar and Canada. It features striking research about the emergence of brown as the colour of cheap labor and the pursuit of a lighter skin tone as a global status symbol. As he studies the significance of brown skin for people from North Africa and the Middle East, Mexico and Central America, and South and East Asia, Al-Solaylee also reflects on his own identity and experiences as a brown-skinned person (in his case from Yemen) who grew up with images of whiteness as the only indicators of beauty and success. This is a daring and politically resonant work that challenges our assumptions about race, immigration and globalism and recounts the heartbreaking stories of the people caught in the middle.
336 pages, Paperback
First published May 10, 2016
70 people are currently reading
1254 people want to read
About the author
Kamal Al-Solaylee
6 books44 followersKamal Al-Solaylee (born 1964) is a Canadian journalist, who published his debut book, Intolerable: A Memoir of Extremes, in 2012.
Born in Aden, his family went into exile in Beirut and Cairo following the British decolonization of Yemen in 1967. Following a brief return to Yemen in his 20s, Al-Solaylee moved to London to complete his PhD in English, before moving to Canada.
He has worked extensively as a journalist in Canada, including work for the Globe and Mail, Report on Business, the Toronto Star, the National Post, The Walrus, Xtra! and Toronto Life. He is currently the director of the undergraduate journalism program at Ryerson University.
His book Intolerable: A Memoir of Extremes is a memoir of his experience as a gay man growing up in the Middle East. The book was a shortlisted nominee for the 2012 Hilary Weston Writers' Trust Prize for Nonfiction, the 2013 Lambda Literary Award in the Gay Memoir/Biography category, and the 2013 Toronto Book Award.
He served on the jury of the 2012 Dayne Ogilvie Prize, a literary award for emerging LGBT writers in Canada, selecting Amber Dawn as that year's winner.
Intolerable was selected for the 2015 edition of Canada Reads, where it will be defended by actress Kristin Kreuk.
Born in Aden, his family went into exile in Beirut and Cairo following the British decolonization of Yemen in 1967. Following a brief return to Yemen in his 20s, Al-Solaylee moved to London to complete his PhD in English, before moving to Canada.
He has worked extensively as a journalist in Canada, including work for the Globe and Mail, Report on Business, the Toronto Star, the National Post, The Walrus, Xtra! and Toronto Life. He is currently the director of the undergraduate journalism program at Ryerson University.
His book Intolerable: A Memoir of Extremes is a memoir of his experience as a gay man growing up in the Middle East. The book was a shortlisted nominee for the 2012 Hilary Weston Writers' Trust Prize for Nonfiction, the 2013 Lambda Literary Award in the Gay Memoir/Biography category, and the 2013 Toronto Book Award.
He served on the jury of the 2012 Dayne Ogilvie Prize, a literary award for emerging LGBT writers in Canada, selecting Amber Dawn as that year's winner.
Intolerable was selected for the 2015 edition of Canada Reads, where it will be defended by actress Kristin Kreuk.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 69 reviews
July 15, 2016
What does it mean to have brown skin in the world?
It's a question I've grappled with every single day of my life since I can remember. I grew up undeniably aware of my skin color, extremely aware that, as a child, I was different not just because I was born in another country and my family moved to America with nothing, but because I looked different, too. Many of my close friends growing up—Elizabeth, Leah, Sean, Steven, Rachel—looked nothing like me, and while they never said anything about it, I noticed that difference, acutely.
This is the question that Kamal Al-Solaylee attempts to answer in his book, Brown . It is a question he tackles through the lens of history, of travel, of business, and of identity, coming to the realization that brownness is a spectrum that isn't about ethnicity or nationality, but instead of belonging and fit, of the space we occupy, the in-between.
I've always thought of my brownness as a particular kind of liminality. By being brown, I am able to float in-between, able to benefit from the privileges that come from being non-black, but also reap advantages that are afforded to me because of the cultural marker of being a person of color.
Being brown in school meant that I was seen as smart and motivated even if I didn't necessarily deserve the accolades. Being brown in the neighborhood meant that I could ingratiate myself with the variety of cultures surrounding me—in those days, in my area, primarily Jamaican, Somali, and Trinidadian—without being accused of appropriation.
Even now, my brownness allows for fluidity: I am non-white to some, non-black to others. I am liminal, I am in-between. It is a position of privilege that I have become more conscious of now, and question regularly.
I wasn't aware of the concept of the "model minority" until I read A. Sandosharaj's recent piece in The Millions, but it made sense: growing up, my brownness made me easy, approachable, undefinable, and easy to like, no matter what disposition I may have had.
The privilege of brownness still continues, but it is tempered by a rising negative sentiment against "the other" in our current society. Recent political movements in North America and Europe have shown a disdain for difference, and brown skin is a clear marker of otherness in these contexts.
As a Muslim in post-9/11 America, I sometimes rue my brown skin, which serves to single me out as "one of those people" despite my actual ideology. Brown has always been a color of the in-between, but most recently, that liminality has come with a casting aside instead of integration. Brownness has become an excuse for isolation and exclusion.
I have grappled with these issues, consciously or unconsciously, since my childhood. My brownness has at times been positive, at times been negative, but it has always been evident. By being in-between, we are at once easily seen, and easily ignored. Mr. Al-Solaylee sums it up quite poignantly in his introduction:
Brown takes us around the world to examine these issues of visibility and invisibilty, and while it often seems more travelogue than criticism, it does a valiant job of trying to do the impossible: define and understand brownness.
The in-between is not something that can be pinned down, and is only defined by the markers outside of it; being brown is that perpetual dance of being a part and being apart. It is that dance that makes our own brownness so hard to understand, even to ourselves.
(originally published on inthemargins.ca)
It's a question I've grappled with every single day of my life since I can remember. I grew up undeniably aware of my skin color, extremely aware that, as a child, I was different not just because I was born in another country and my family moved to America with nothing, but because I looked different, too. Many of my close friends growing up—Elizabeth, Leah, Sean, Steven, Rachel—looked nothing like me, and while they never said anything about it, I noticed that difference, acutely.
This is the question that Kamal Al-Solaylee attempts to answer in his book, Brown . It is a question he tackles through the lens of history, of travel, of business, and of identity, coming to the realization that brownness is a spectrum that isn't about ethnicity or nationality, but instead of belonging and fit, of the space we occupy, the in-between.
I've always thought of my brownness as a particular kind of liminality. By being brown, I am able to float in-between, able to benefit from the privileges that come from being non-black, but also reap advantages that are afforded to me because of the cultural marker of being a person of color.
Being brown in school meant that I was seen as smart and motivated even if I didn't necessarily deserve the accolades. Being brown in the neighborhood meant that I could ingratiate myself with the variety of cultures surrounding me—in those days, in my area, primarily Jamaican, Somali, and Trinidadian—without being accused of appropriation.
Even now, my brownness allows for fluidity: I am non-white to some, non-black to others. I am liminal, I am in-between. It is a position of privilege that I have become more conscious of now, and question regularly.
I wasn't aware of the concept of the "model minority" until I read A. Sandosharaj's recent piece in The Millions, but it made sense: growing up, my brownness made me easy, approachable, undefinable, and easy to like, no matter what disposition I may have had.
Asians have often benefited from positive stereotyping, much of which stems from the 1965 Immigration Act. At the time, the nation was panicked by the Soviet Union’s launch of Sputnik; America desperately needed immigrants with technical skills for the space race. The immigration act lead to a large influx of highly educated Asian and South Asian immigrants. These doctors and engineers contributed to positive stereotypes and unfair comparisons to other minorities: the model minority myth.
This myth benefited even those like me, model minorities whose parents were not college educated. In the classroom being South Asian often meant being tracked as gifted. Was I actually gifted or did I benefit from the assumption I was gifted? Who’s to say. What I can say is that any student would’ve benefited from the privileges and dispensations I received — long before I had achieved anything — not the least of which were my teacher’s rosy expectations.
The privilege of brownness still continues, but it is tempered by a rising negative sentiment against "the other" in our current society. Recent political movements in North America and Europe have shown a disdain for difference, and brown skin is a clear marker of otherness in these contexts.
As a Muslim in post-9/11 America, I sometimes rue my brown skin, which serves to single me out as "one of those people" despite my actual ideology. Brown has always been a color of the in-between, but most recently, that liminality has come with a casting aside instead of integration. Brownness has become an excuse for isolation and exclusion.
I have grappled with these issues, consciously or unconsciously, since my childhood. My brownness has at times been positive, at times been negative, but it has always been evident. By being in-between, we are at once easily seen, and easily ignored. Mr. Al-Solaylee sums it up quite poignantly in his introduction:
Brown people are both visible and invisible in the city’s colleges, plazas, and office towers. Some of us show up to attend classes or cut multimillion-dollar deals, others to clean offices and get them ready for the next day.
Brown takes us around the world to examine these issues of visibility and invisibilty, and while it often seems more travelogue than criticism, it does a valiant job of trying to do the impossible: define and understand brownness.
The in-between is not something that can be pinned down, and is only defined by the markers outside of it; being brown is that perpetual dance of being a part and being apart. It is that dance that makes our own brownness so hard to understand, even to ourselves.
(originally published on inthemargins.ca)
May 24, 2017
In deciding who to write about and who to leave out, I created a simple formula: Has the cultural, national, regional or religious community you come from reached a crisis point in the host country? Is that country, be it in North America, the Caribbean, Asia or Europe, experiencing some kind of moral panic about your presence in their midst? If you answered yes to both questions and you're not European white, African American, aboriginal or East Asian, then congratulations (or is it commiseration?), you're brown. Perhaps you can and do pass for white when you feel like it. Good for you, and shame on you. Millions can't and don't. They carry their brownness everywhere they go, and sometimes lose their lives because of it.
I picked up Brown because it recently won the prestigious Shaughnessy Cohen Prize for Political Writing here in Canada, and having been assured (*more on this is a moment) that it is both important and an enjoyable read, I thought it might be right up my alley. But as that opening quote shows, author Kamal Al-Solaylee takes a very broad view of who qualifies as “brown”, and as he doesn't focus on any particular ethnic group (he covers Filipinos, Sri Lankans, North Africans, Mexicans) and tries to be as broad when discussing religious groups (he notes which groups are Hindu or Christian, but does take particular issue with Islamophobia), it would seem that his main focus is economic: As poor or displaced people from the “Global South” attempt to find a better life in more highly developed economies, they are taken advantage of by those who have the power to withhold the rights of citizenship or a decent wage or basic safety. We (lighter-skinned citizens of the destination countries) don't feel bad, according to Al-Solaylee, because, like brown people themselves, we've been conditioned our whole lives to equate lighter with better and “brown” with filth (but, hey, at least brown is, socially, a step above black). This book is packed full of interesting stories and interviews and statistics, and I'm not arguing against its overall impressiveness, but I never really got a handle on Al-Solaylee's thesis; it has a whiff of the strawman about it. People should read it anyway. To return to how I heard about Brown, I read this article about it winning the Shaughnessy Cohen Prize in The National Post :
It already enjoys a high critical reputation, and it is perfectly matched to its historic moment. But you may, particularly if you’re a white reader, hear a voice in your hindbrain saying “Oh, a book about race? I’ll save the 30 bucks and just punch myself in the face.” No no no. Brown is just a good book – intimate, learned, genial, clever. That’s all: it’s a good book that will last a while. It is probably an important book, too, but I want you to know you can go ahead and overlook the nutritional value.
By saying I read The National Post, non-Canadians should understand that I'm saying I'm a conservative (which in Canada really means centrist, not skinhead), so not only do I bristle when Al-Solaylee uses bias-laced adjectives (Bobby Jindal is “ultraconservative” and a collection of progressive essays is “vital”), but I can't quite get worked up over his case for colour-based economic discrimination: It is horrifying to learn that nearly one foreign worker a day dies in Qatar while building the infrastructure for the 2022 World Cup, and of course I don't support the abuse of Filipina maids in Hong Kong or Sri Lankan nannies in Turkmenistan, but whether it's one of these sponsored foreign workers who goes underground to take their chances on unregulated cash jobs, or the Algerian who sneaks into Paris to sell fruit, or the Mexican who walks across the desert looking for restaurant work in the United States, once a person decides to circumvent the rules of immigration, that person can't then expect the rights and privileges of a documented, tax-paying citizen. I honestly don't know what it means that all of these people can be lumped by Al-Solaylee under the umbrella term “brown”. Do I really want to deport illegals for the same reason the following was named the ugliest colour in the world?
Brown is divided into three parts: The first covers the history of “colourism” and how even people of colour learn to rank themselves (and each other) on a shade scale; I thought it was interesting that Brazil recognises 300 official colour designations, but balk at Al-Solaylee stating that American television has seen a whitening/unaccenting of Latino actors from the days of Desi Arnaz and Ricardo Mantalban to today's Sofia Vergara and America Ferrera (they all seem equally light-skinned to me and Sofia's accent is the thickest of the bunch – and note I only balk because if I don't agree with the little stuff, I can't agree with the big). The second part covers how brown people are used as labour in other nonwhite countries; and again, while I have a problem with people staying and working in a country illegally, my bigger issue with this section is that there's no real insight into why these people were forced to leave home and family to go work abroad in the first place; if all the exploited labour is coming from “brown” countries, how can those countries be fixed? The final section covers the discrimination faced by brown people in Britain, France, America, and Canada; and while the chapter on the US primarily focusses on illegal Mexicans, the others are about Islamophobia – seen as an unfair generalisation in the aftermath of homegrown terrorist attacks; with which I can agree in general. I liked that Al-Solaylee travelled to all of these countries to seek personal stories, and he definitely put a human face on his statistics.
Al-Solaylee would be from the opposite end of the political spectrum from me (which in Canada, also makes him a centrist), so he spends a lot of ink on the scary decade under a Conservative government and how they used a creeping fear of Muslims as a wedge issue to stir up their base. Being from Toronto, that's where Al-Solaylee sampled for tales of discrimination, and while I agree that Project Thread turned out to be a pointless witchhunt that unfairly stigmatised innocent men, he hardly paints a clear picture of the situation in Canada by narrowing his focus so completely. By leaving out any mention of the browning of the west coast, or Quebec's designation as a distinct society that sees them unaccommodating to “others”, and especially, by making zero mention of our own homegrown and brown-skinned terrorist who murdered an unarmed soldier before shooting up Parliament, Al-Solaylee loses any sense of objectivity for me: by cherrypicking stories to fit his premise about Canada, I was left wondering where this happened in the chapters about countries I'm not familiar with.
My daughter's boyfriend's parents are currently selling their house, and apparently, the much despised next door neighbour came to them and said, “Just don't sell to anyone brown, okay?” (It was reported today that the average price of a new detached home in Toronto is now $1.8 million. As we live within an hour of Toronto's downtown, we've essentially become commutable to the city and some of those coming out our way are, indeed, brown.) This was told to me because it is understood that I would be disgusted with the neighbour: I may be conservative but I am not a bigot; why would I care about the colour of my neighbours? However, and I can't be alone here, I had two different reactions to current events of late: A brown terrorist blows himself up at a pop concert and I am unsurprised to learn that he was a radicalised Muslim; learning that he was known to police seems to invalidate Al-Solaylee's point that it's unfair for Britain to focus on the Muslim community when searching for potential threats. And last week, when the brown driver of a car that plowed through a crowd in NYC turned out to be a mentally disturbed Navy veteran, I didn't think of the attack as terrorism; probably a case of lack of mental health support for returning veterans. Both were premeditated attacks by brown men, but because one of them was a Muslim, I did put them in separate mental categories. I had hoped that reading Brown would help to clarify this dissonance, but Al-Solaylee went in a different direction. People should read it anyway.
July 6, 2016
I found this to be a fascinating read, not least because it is about a topic not often explored. The book overall is very well done and accomplishes what it sets out to do. What stood out to me in this area was that Al-Solaylee used scholarship by "brown" authors along with the personal interviews he conducted, and so is able to provide many viewpoints and interpretations of the issues he discusses.
Because the point he is trying to make is so broad, I feel that this book serves as a wonderful introductory work in this area, but the ideas need to be explored much more in the future. Within the book itself, I found myself wishing that he could have pulled it together a bit better at the end, as the chapters themselves felt a little bit disconnected. Perhaps a short concluding chapter would have worked to this end?
But overall, Al-Solaylee has done a wonderful job introducing the issues he discusses. The book really got me thinking about colourism and how it manifests itself in my own family and community. The harsh realities he exposes about colourism and society's reactions to it made me feel that this book should be required reading for everyone. To top it off, his writing style is wonderfully clear and accessible. Clearly, one cannot go wrong with this book. I have already begun to recommend it to everyone I know!
Because the point he is trying to make is so broad, I feel that this book serves as a wonderful introductory work in this area, but the ideas need to be explored much more in the future. Within the book itself, I found myself wishing that he could have pulled it together a bit better at the end, as the chapters themselves felt a little bit disconnected. Perhaps a short concluding chapter would have worked to this end?
But overall, Al-Solaylee has done a wonderful job introducing the issues he discusses. The book really got me thinking about colourism and how it manifests itself in my own family and community. The harsh realities he exposes about colourism and society's reactions to it made me feel that this book should be required reading for everyone. To top it off, his writing style is wonderfully clear and accessible. Clearly, one cannot go wrong with this book. I have already begun to recommend it to everyone I know!
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March 24, 2017I finally finished this book. It was a real eye opener. I think everyone should read this book
February 20, 2017
Brown tackles some difficult questions as it goes back in history to explain how being a certain skin tone has influenced popular opinion against a collective diaspora of people for centuries. The legacy of colonialism left among its wake racial and colour discrimination which follows people around to this day. In Western societies brown people are either nameless, subjected to doing the work that the locals don't want, or they are at the other end of the spectrum, educated professionals with whom the white Nordic race are comfortable only until they start demanding political recognition and social acceptance.
Within their own countries, being brown runs its gamut of colour discrimination where the darker skin tones serve as workers, laborers and home help to their affluent brown Middle Eastern or Far Eastern masters in Gulf states and Hong Kong.
Kamal al Solaylee brings individual stories of people who are caught in the web of their browness while examining their place in the greater society.
It's an upsetting book because it peels the genteel facade of the Western Nordic nations as well as the biased Eastern nations and questions the status-quo we have accepted for generations. West cannot lay claim to "civilizing" the East when the idea of pure race, which in itself is a most uncivilized one, was imposed by them on their colonial subjects, and adopted by them in their own countries.
Within their own countries, being brown runs its gamut of colour discrimination where the darker skin tones serve as workers, laborers and home help to their affluent brown Middle Eastern or Far Eastern masters in Gulf states and Hong Kong.
Kamal al Solaylee brings individual stories of people who are caught in the web of their browness while examining their place in the greater society.
It's an upsetting book because it peels the genteel facade of the Western Nordic nations as well as the biased Eastern nations and questions the status-quo we have accepted for generations. West cannot lay claim to "civilizing" the East when the idea of pure race, which in itself is a most uncivilized one, was imposed by them on their colonial subjects, and adopted by them in their own countries.
June 2, 2017
The book is well-researched, and I appreciated the author's obvious attempts to avoid bias.
Although the title is Brown, many of the situations are transferable to the First Nations people here in Canada.
As a white immigrant my experience has been very different to that of a visible minority. It also made be realize, even as a liberal thinking Canadian who believes in the idea of multiculturalism, I remain somewhat partisan—there are aspects of some cultures I would prefer not to see practiced in this country. It certainly gave me food for thought.
Recommended.
Although the title is Brown, many of the situations are transferable to the First Nations people here in Canada.
As a white immigrant my experience has been very different to that of a visible minority. It also made be realize, even as a liberal thinking Canadian who believes in the idea of multiculturalism, I remain somewhat partisan—there are aspects of some cultures I would prefer not to see practiced in this country. It certainly gave me food for thought.
Recommended.
September 8, 2024
Absolutely amazing book! Strongly recommend! 🤎
May 24, 2017
Kamal Al-Solaylee is a gifted writer. He's taken on a big topic in this book -- the meaning of brown skin, which has so many different contexts and connotations around the world -- but he skillfully ties many moving stories together into a coherent and thoughtful book.
One aspect of the book that did not sit as well with me was the author's own place in the narrative. It felt like Al-Solaylee couldn't decide how much of himself to bring into the book. He is certainly there, remarking on his experiences as interviewer and drawing on his own life as a brown, Muslim man, but he is not a fully formed character. We see only glimpses of him, the man behind the camera (or notebook) and I was left wanting to know more about his journey. Of course, having read Al-Solaylee's memoir Intolerable, I did know more about that story, but I may have been disappointed if I did not have that background.
Al-Solaylee ends his book on a hopeful note of what it means to be brown in Canada, despite this country's failings and despite some particularly egregious actions in Canada against brown Muslim people, which he also gives air time. I am grateful for both his criticism and his love for this country of ours. Reading his assessment of Canada, I thought he spoke to what I also feel: disappointment at where we have failed, but a belief that at the heart of it, our neighbours are good people.
One aspect of the book that did not sit as well with me was the author's own place in the narrative. It felt like Al-Solaylee couldn't decide how much of himself to bring into the book. He is certainly there, remarking on his experiences as interviewer and drawing on his own life as a brown, Muslim man, but he is not a fully formed character. We see only glimpses of him, the man behind the camera (or notebook) and I was left wanting to know more about his journey. Of course, having read Al-Solaylee's memoir Intolerable, I did know more about that story, but I may have been disappointed if I did not have that background.
Al-Solaylee ends his book on a hopeful note of what it means to be brown in Canada, despite this country's failings and despite some particularly egregious actions in Canada against brown Muslim people, which he also gives air time. I am grateful for both his criticism and his love for this country of ours. Reading his assessment of Canada, I thought he spoke to what I also feel: disappointment at where we have failed, but a belief that at the heart of it, our neighbours are good people.
August 29, 2016
The prose was nothing special; it did its job. The author's personality was likeable without imposing on the material of the book (I can imagine this would be an interesting read after reading his memoir, Intolerable). There were some issues with editing, as I spotted multiple grammatical errors and repeated words throughout the book. Yet despite these things, this book still shines.
It shines in its subject matter. In delving into the lives of subjected peoples, it gives the reader a glimpse into gruelling days of manual labour, the suppressed rage of the racially discriminated, and the unfortunately all-too-human tendency for people to draw colour-lines, particularly in our post-colonial world. The prose in itself is uninteresting; the stories it tells are bursting with humanity, providing a voice for those who are often conveniently pushed to the side.
It shines in its subject matter. In delving into the lives of subjected peoples, it gives the reader a glimpse into gruelling days of manual labour, the suppressed rage of the racially discriminated, and the unfortunately all-too-human tendency for people to draw colour-lines, particularly in our post-colonial world. The prose in itself is uninteresting; the stories it tells are bursting with humanity, providing a voice for those who are often conveniently pushed to the side.
May 19, 2017
After briefly discussing the concepts race and colourism and their history in the first two chapters, Al-Solaylee begins the series of case studies that examine the idea of brownness from various angles, creating more breadth than depth. Al-Solaylee is exposing the surface of many complicated issues and situations, succeeding in providing a sense of the scope, but not a deep understanding. Nevertheless, he provides an entry point to a variety of situations that shine a light on our thinking about race and colour, and how we use these concepts to define classes within our cultures. Each chapter could merit a book of its own, but Al-Solaylee is focused on the picture they provide when presented alongside one another. more
July 25, 2016
An excellent and thought provoking book about "brown" people all over the world. Al-Solaylee explores the world of Filipina domestic workers, Sri Lankan migrants, and anti Islamic movements in France and Britain. This is a well researched and eye opening book. However, it's a bit dense and there's just so much information in it that it can be little overwhelming at times.
April 12, 2016
Very strong beginning, becomes a bit travelogue-ish.
But I am now thinking about brown in a different and differentiated way. So Al-Solaylee does achieve something important here. Opening a new front in the discussion about race and identity - and how to make things better.
But I am now thinking about brown in a different and differentiated way. So Al-Solaylee does achieve something important here. Opening a new front in the discussion about race and identity - and how to make things better.
June 2, 2016
The author's personal journey interviewing people of brown skin in ten countries. He explores their social, political, economic, and personal implications of being a brown- skinned person in these countries. A thought provoking book.
June 3, 2016
A noble undertaking and a likeable persona. Writing is fluid and appealing, but sometimes in need of an editor (for syntax, and that's NOT the correct way to spell predominantly!). Also, while the research is compelling, the argument is not fully coherent.
July 5, 2022
Rather enjoyed this book, especially since I wanted to be challenged to read something new. Recent events highlight that we have become complacent.
As a side bar, the chapter on Trinidad helped one of students with researching the social & cultural aspects of chutney music.
As a side bar, the chapter on Trinidad helped one of students with researching the social & cultural aspects of chutney music.
July 24, 2017
A sensitive and concise look at the realities of "Brown" life in several places around the world. Al-Solaylee is an incredibly engaging story teller. Definitely worth a read.
June 28, 2020
This book is a wonderful primer and start to understanding how dynamics between the powerful and the powerless can be played out along racial and religious lines. Because skin colour is an obvious and easy to identify “marker”, it’s often the one thing that discrimination can latch onto, alongside other markers such as one’s name.
The book further reinforces the fact that the “brown” identity holds a multitude of stories and I find myself thinking that it is such an oversimplification to call someone “brown”. As if all brown people are the same. And what is brown even??? Is there a “colour consciousness”? The book’s chapters show how stories of different groups can vary, even when they share a similar geographical ancestry. For example, economic class lines could be the line of divide, between the stereotypical “good” browns (think rich) and the “bad” browns (think working class).
I especially appreciated the last chapter on Canada, where the author hails from. Confronting the racism that exists within our neighbourhood, is always a sobering task. As Kamal writes, it is chilling to witness racism that happens elsewhere, but we can comfort ourselves that we have somewhere to escape to, a home to return to where we do not have to touch this ugliness. But when we realise that we have our own form of ugly, it takes strength to choose to confront it.
I would recommend this for everyone to read. :-)
The book further reinforces the fact that the “brown” identity holds a multitude of stories and I find myself thinking that it is such an oversimplification to call someone “brown”. As if all brown people are the same. And what is brown even??? Is there a “colour consciousness”? The book’s chapters show how stories of different groups can vary, even when they share a similar geographical ancestry. For example, economic class lines could be the line of divide, between the stereotypical “good” browns (think rich) and the “bad” browns (think working class).
I especially appreciated the last chapter on Canada, where the author hails from. Confronting the racism that exists within our neighbourhood, is always a sobering task. As Kamal writes, it is chilling to witness racism that happens elsewhere, but we can comfort ourselves that we have somewhere to escape to, a home to return to where we do not have to touch this ugliness. But when we realise that we have our own form of ugly, it takes strength to choose to confront it.
I would recommend this for everyone to read. :-)
May 25, 2021
I heard Al-Solaylee speak at a writer's festival and bought his book on the strength of his fascinating presentation. What starts off as an academic attempt to classify "brown" and "the brown experience" quickly moves into a series of case studies as he travels to several countries (including The Philippines, Qatar, France, the US and Canada) to investigate how history, colour, faith, class, gender, economics, migration and government policies intersect and impact the lives of brown people working and living abroad. Published in 2015, Al-Solaylee brings up the inflammatory rhetoric of then-presidential-hopeful Trump, so it was doubly fascinating to see how the currents and issues already in motion at that time were exacerbated after his election. And being Canadian, he doesn't shy away from exposing Canada's racist tendencies, as much as we like to think of ourselves as more welcoming and tolerant.
An engaging, eye-opening and important read.
An engaging, eye-opening and important read.
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March 25, 2024such a fascinating global trek about the racialization of brownness!!
April 1, 2024
Read as part of my WOMN 2500 class reading requirement. Probably the first good book a prof made mandatory for a class as it was good as a stand alone even under academic stress.
September 18, 2023
A series of essays about the challenges of being brown, especially in Asian and Arabic countries. The author lived in a series of countries and tells the stories of people he interviewed, most of whom emigrated for work in order. He describes the racism and classism they face, often from other brown peoples, as they try to make a living to support their families at home. It is certainly educational and informative and increased my awareness of these situations.
March 4, 2019
Whilst it’s common in Britain to group ethnic minorities together as BAME (black, asian, minority, ethnic) this book, by a respected Canadian journalist of Arab descent, does something that I haven’t seen before – it looks at the issue of what it means to be different shades of brown, not just in countries where brown people are a minority, but even in countries where everyone is brown. At first sight it’s hard to see the justification for taking this approach, particularly given that “black”, is something that, according to the laws of physics, is impossible. People who might be designated in ordinary speech as “black”, are indisputably “brown”, and there are people who identify as “black” who are lighter skinned than people who might identify as South Asian or Arab. Al-Solaylee seems to be arbitrarily drawing a line on the colour spectrum to exclude people who are a shade of brown that he prefers to other with the term “black”. Add to this the difficulty that the concept of “race” itself is widely accepted as an artificial construct which has its roots in European imperialism, and this book seems to be starting off on a shaky footing.
However, Al-Solaylee is aware of the inherent shortcomings in the approach he has taken, and the criticisms that might be levelled against him. He attempts to address these in his introduction, and whether he does so successfully will be a measure of the latitude that the reader gives to this book. Al-Solaylee accepts that his book is simply a meditative travel narrative of the experiences of people who have a skin colour similar to his own, rather than an academic study (although Al-Solaylee is an academic as well as a journalist). Al-Solaylee is asking an interesting question – are there things about being mid-way between white and black that is universal to those who share this attribute? There seems to be an underlying suggestion that the shade of a person’s brownness correlates to economic and political outcomes, but Al-Solaylee is aware that his evidence doesn’t fully bear it out, and he certainly doesn’t venture towards any arguments on causality. However, what the book lacks in arguments it more than makes up with a pleasant, confident delivery and a wide array of statistics, which are always skillfully analysed and applied in Al-Solaylee’s examination of this broad topic. But even with all that analysis, this is not a book of answers. It is a book of experiences, and an attempt to start a conversation based on those experiences.
Al-Solaylee comes across as a decent person and a solid journalist. He takes time to talk to and understand the experiences of brown people all around the world, and from all walks of life and he tells their stories with care. Ultimately, that is what the book is – an invaluable and lovingly created collection of the stories of brown experiences from around the world, against a backdrop of some surprising statistics. The book doesn’t have a killer argument running through it, or at its end. It’s loose, but it’s certainly not baggy. As with all the best books, the stories of these brown experiences leave the reader with more questions than answers. Perhaps there is something about being brown that merits more conversation and closer academic scrutiny.
However, Al-Solaylee is aware of the inherent shortcomings in the approach he has taken, and the criticisms that might be levelled against him. He attempts to address these in his introduction, and whether he does so successfully will be a measure of the latitude that the reader gives to this book. Al-Solaylee accepts that his book is simply a meditative travel narrative of the experiences of people who have a skin colour similar to his own, rather than an academic study (although Al-Solaylee is an academic as well as a journalist). Al-Solaylee is asking an interesting question – are there things about being mid-way between white and black that is universal to those who share this attribute? There seems to be an underlying suggestion that the shade of a person’s brownness correlates to economic and political outcomes, but Al-Solaylee is aware that his evidence doesn’t fully bear it out, and he certainly doesn’t venture towards any arguments on causality. However, what the book lacks in arguments it more than makes up with a pleasant, confident delivery and a wide array of statistics, which are always skillfully analysed and applied in Al-Solaylee’s examination of this broad topic. But even with all that analysis, this is not a book of answers. It is a book of experiences, and an attempt to start a conversation based on those experiences.
Al-Solaylee comes across as a decent person and a solid journalist. He takes time to talk to and understand the experiences of brown people all around the world, and from all walks of life and he tells their stories with care. Ultimately, that is what the book is – an invaluable and lovingly created collection of the stories of brown experiences from around the world, against a backdrop of some surprising statistics. The book doesn’t have a killer argument running through it, or at its end. It’s loose, but it’s certainly not baggy. As with all the best books, the stories of these brown experiences leave the reader with more questions than answers. Perhaps there is something about being brown that merits more conversation and closer academic scrutiny.
June 16, 2017
Okay but could have been shorter I had read Kamal Al-Solaylee's autobiography a few years ago and wasn't impressed. But I was intrigued by the premise of this book and how "brown" people fit in society. They're not white but they're not black either. Al-Solaylee takes a look at how brown people live, work, survive, etc. in society.
He takes a mostly country by country look, giving the reader a bit of history mixed with societal/political context with some research and anecdotes from various people. How many travel to different countries to send money home. How they do not fit in whatever country because of their skin color (which can vary depending on their heritage which can ALSO be a factor in how they're treated or how they live). What experiences they share (or not).
Ranging everywhere from Hong Kong to the United States to Qatar to Sri Lanka to Trindad, etc. Al-Solaylee gives us a wide range of views from men and women. They are cleaners, nannies, entertainers, hospitality workers, etc. Many are there illegally, many are there legally. But they all share experiences that are sad, amusing, sometimes frightening, sometimes triumphant.
Initially I really liked the book, especially in the beginning where he talks about colorism/shadism (he admits he's not quite up to snuff as to know the difference), and how lighter-colored individuals often have it much easier than their darker complexion compatriots. Skin lightening is a huge business (which is something Al-Solaylee discusses).
From there it's a fairly formulaic process: one chapter is one country and follows the people, the history, etc. I found that if I was less familiar with the country and/or the plight of brown people then it seemed more interesting. Knowing absolutely nothing about Trinidad, for example, made for some really engrossing reading. But if I was already at least somewhat familiar (say Hong Kong) or at least have some degree of knowledge (the US) then I found the book less interesting. Part of it is probably partially due to being somewhat familiar with the country but I also don't think Al-Solaylee is the best writer.
I didn't care for his personal biography as mentioned above and unfortunately I think some of that carried over here. The topic is *really* interesting and I'd probably pick up another book about it. But I'm not sure I'll read anything else by this author. If you have a specific interest in a particular country as it relates to the topic it might not be a bad book to pick up at the library. And if you have an interest in the general topic it's certainly wouldn't be a bad borrow. If it had been available at the library I would have done that but if you really want to read it try to find it as a bargain buy.
He takes a mostly country by country look, giving the reader a bit of history mixed with societal/political context with some research and anecdotes from various people. How many travel to different countries to send money home. How they do not fit in whatever country because of their skin color (which can vary depending on their heritage which can ALSO be a factor in how they're treated or how they live). What experiences they share (or not).
Ranging everywhere from Hong Kong to the United States to Qatar to Sri Lanka to Trindad, etc. Al-Solaylee gives us a wide range of views from men and women. They are cleaners, nannies, entertainers, hospitality workers, etc. Many are there illegally, many are there legally. But they all share experiences that are sad, amusing, sometimes frightening, sometimes triumphant.
Initially I really liked the book, especially in the beginning where he talks about colorism/shadism (he admits he's not quite up to snuff as to know the difference), and how lighter-colored individuals often have it much easier than their darker complexion compatriots. Skin lightening is a huge business (which is something Al-Solaylee discusses).
From there it's a fairly formulaic process: one chapter is one country and follows the people, the history, etc. I found that if I was less familiar with the country and/or the plight of brown people then it seemed more interesting. Knowing absolutely nothing about Trinidad, for example, made for some really engrossing reading. But if I was already at least somewhat familiar (say Hong Kong) or at least have some degree of knowledge (the US) then I found the book less interesting. Part of it is probably partially due to being somewhat familiar with the country but I also don't think Al-Solaylee is the best writer.
I didn't care for his personal biography as mentioned above and unfortunately I think some of that carried over here. The topic is *really* interesting and I'd probably pick up another book about it. But I'm not sure I'll read anything else by this author. If you have a specific interest in a particular country as it relates to the topic it might not be a bad book to pick up at the library. And if you have an interest in the general topic it's certainly wouldn't be a bad borrow. If it had been available at the library I would have done that but if you really want to read it try to find it as a bargain buy.
December 20, 2018
Al-Solaylee's "Brown" attempts to explain what it means to be racialized as a brown person in the developed world. I'd recommend this book to everyone for 2 reasons: 1. For non-brown folks to get a better understanding of what it means to be stereotyped a certain way for being brown, and to become allies in this fight against racism, and, 2. For brown folks to better understand how we perpetuate colourism, the favouring of lighter skin tones, and an indictment of those in the community who look down upon newer immigrants, who after all, leave their countries behind for the same reasons our parents/grandparents did.
July 10, 2018
I started to read this book months ago and finally finished it today. All about the experiences of people who are not white and not black, there are chapters on Trinidad and on Canada, and other places like the Philippines, Hong Kong, Sri Lanka, Qatar, The United Kingdom, France and the United States. Trinidad is a racially complex country, where there is a large Indo-Trinidadian population (descended from indentured servants brought to the Caribbean from India by the British after black slavery was abolished) but the black population is dominant. The chapter on Canada focuses on Islamophobia and the experience of the Muslim and Arab people, with a case study of what happened to the reputation of Hussein Hamdani - a lawyer in the city of Hamilton where I live, and someone I know. He became a victim of the "fear industry". Canada's anti-terror laws have become code for anti-Muslim legislation. This is an excellent book which raises awareness of different kinds of racism manifested around the world. It is a lot to digest all at once, and probably best digested chapter by chapter, possibly over a long period of time, like I did.
June 24, 2020
Though this book intended to show what it means to be brown in the world today, and though it did lay out the difference between the brown experience versus the black experience (and the sometime competition between the two groups), I felt it didn't always make that point clearly. The author tried to be impartial but sometimes seemed like he went into some situations with his mind already kind of made up. He did seem to hit his stride near the end when he talked about his home country, Canada, but he seemed to assume reader knowledge of some big events, which might leave readers not familiar with Canadian news at a bit of a disadvantage. The book did, however, give a good window into the different ways many brown minority groups and migrant workers are economically exploited in different parts of the world (Filipinos, Mexicans, Indians, Sri Lankans, etc.) and how things got that way in each place, and also colorism between and within groups.
I didn't get as much out of this as I thought I would, but I did get a few enlightening glimpses into the state of affairs in different parts of the world that I didn't know much about before. Not a bad read.
I didn't get as much out of this as I thought I would, but I did get a few enlightening glimpses into the state of affairs in different parts of the world that I didn't know much about before. Not a bad read.
February 4, 2018
A very interesting investigation into the perception of colour around the world and within communities of colour. To think that colour differentiation exists within people of similar ethnic communities is hard to conceive for me since it's something I've never experienced and am unlikely to ever experience, yet from my observation of my students over the years I can understand. That so many times and places treat the 'other' as slave labour is frightening, and the worst part is that it's still happening here. Immigrants with very specialised skills who are forced into menial low paying positions because their qualifications are not recognised and must be 'retrained' to do work they are already qualified for. That politicians openly or covertly use colour or religion to instill fear of the 'other' into the electorate for their personal gain is at least disgusting and reprehensible. The results of such politics on the marginalised communities is devastating. I think this is a very important read to help us better understand each other and to help us grow into a better society.
July 24, 2018
3.5 stars. Some really compelling stories of immigrants and migrant workers but the author casts the net for what he defines as "brown" so wide (read: any person who isn't white, black, or East Asian) that it's difficult to come to any conclusion on what being brown in the world today means. Add intersecting factors like religion and culture mingled with the politics and "values" of the society to where these brown people have migrated or been displaced, and the experiences become varied enough that I wonder why we should use the same term to grossly define them. Still, I think it was necessary to tell the stories of people who do not neatly fit into black-and-white politics and social dynamics, in particular people whose skin colour will forever mark them as nonwhite, and who are often scapegoated as threats to Western values, culture, and religion instead of seen as the model (assimilating) immigrant.
July 30, 2018
I really enjoyed the thoughtful approach to what it means to be brown. As a brown person myself, I am certainly familiar with my own experience. But to read about what it may mean to say a person travelling from Mexico to live in USA, a Philippines worker travelling to China/Hongkong for work, or fellow Bengali's travelling to places like Dubai, Abu Dhabi and more to help with their construction industry - it shows the myriad of experiences we all go through in our way. And although most are heart-breaking stories, where you ask yourself "how is it possible?", there is only so much you can dwell upon before deciding to move on from it. However, with each story, there were glimmers of hope, rare in quantity, but it's there. Because it cannot be a life if there isn't even a sly bit of hope. This book gives perspective in abundance.
May 18, 2017
I'm on page 60 and am finding this book fasinating. However I have a comment to make. I have yet to come across a so called "white" person that is actually the colour white! More like shades of pink, peach, cream, etc. Same goes for "black". - more like shades of brown. I know Kamal Al-Solaylee is describing colourism as it exists in the world today, but it just irks me that the word "white" has being misused, but then describing yourself as pink or peach wouldn't hold the same connotations with purity as "white" does.
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