Brandon, I sigh a heavy sigh reading your post. I cannot say I fully understand, because I'm white and there is no way I can but I have been as baffled by the foundation of this country as you described in your post. I've never been able to wrap my head around the idea of occupying an already occupied place, and of taking someone unwillingly from their home, separating them from their families, selling them, and claiming ownership over their person. What?
I grew up in a small town in Iowa, not far from U of I, and came of age in the early 80's, and while my life is filled with many of its own midwestern gothic realities, dealing with race was not one of them. I believe there were maybe 4 black families in my town (that I'm aware of.) I do remember when I was in middle school a black man, whose last name was Flowers (I say his name because at the time I believed we were supposed to realize more in this person's death than many did and his name was a signal of this), was murdered while sitting in a laundromat watching his towels go round in a dryer.
There hadn't been a murder in my town for years. In fact very few ever. Oddly, in 1987 my father was shot and a woman who was with him was murdered. (Long story, it's in my book Tornado Dreams), but that event and the murder of Mr. Flowers are so lodged in memory. The reactions to them locally are forever with me. The quiet hush that surrounded the black man and the details and how it all slipped away and yet weighed over the community. Then, two white people and the noise that surrounded it. And the trial. And, the who did it? Somehow my father and this woman were victims, but the black man had it coming. And what always struck me about Iowans when I was growing up is how non-racists so many of them believed themselves to be. Something I always thought was curious because no one ever really experienced dealing with race but I realized this is what allowed them their delusions of themselves.
Anyway, I am blathering, and this comment is far too long. It's my way of saying I don't understand these things, I can't imagine them from your perspective, and I weep that this is the way things are. Humanity should be far more evolved by this point. I shudder to think what it's going to take knowing what has already come before. Thank you for sharing your post.
This is such a gorgeous, heartbreaking essay that taught me so much in the short span of reading it. Your substack is my favorite of any I read, by far. Thank you for writing, and for thinking through so much of the mess of this country and also life with a clarity that refuses to simplify.
I started following your newsletter recently and just wanted to say that your essays are wonderful. I always end up thinking about the ideas in your posts for days afterward. thank you for your work!
I won't ever stop thinking about this essay.
Brandon, I sigh a heavy sigh reading your post. I cannot say I fully understand, because I'm white and there is no way I can but I have been as baffled by the foundation of this country as you described in your post. I've never been able to wrap my head around the idea of occupying an already occupied place, and of taking someone unwillingly from their home, separating them from their families, selling them, and claiming ownership over their person. What?
I grew up in a small town in Iowa, not far from U of I, and came of age in the early 80's, and while my life is filled with many of its own midwestern gothic realities, dealing with race was not one of them. I believe there were maybe 4 black families in my town (that I'm aware of.) I do remember when I was in middle school a black man, whose last name was Flowers (I say his name because at the time I believed we were supposed to realize more in this person's death than many did and his name was a signal of this), was murdered while sitting in a laundromat watching his towels go round in a dryer.
There hadn't been a murder in my town for years. In fact very few ever. Oddly, in 1987 my father was shot and a woman who was with him was murdered. (Long story, it's in my book Tornado Dreams), but that event and the murder of Mr. Flowers are so lodged in memory. The reactions to them locally are forever with me. The quiet hush that surrounded the black man and the details and how it all slipped away and yet weighed over the community. Then, two white people and the noise that surrounded it. And the trial. And, the who did it? Somehow my father and this woman were victims, but the black man had it coming. And what always struck me about Iowans when I was growing up is how non-racists so many of them believed themselves to be. Something I always thought was curious because no one ever really experienced dealing with race but I realized this is what allowed them their delusions of themselves.
Anyway, I am blathering, and this comment is far too long. It's my way of saying I don't understand these things, I can't imagine them from your perspective, and I weep that this is the way things are. Humanity should be far more evolved by this point. I shudder to think what it's going to take knowing what has already come before. Thank you for sharing your post.
You have an incredible mind. Thank you for continuing to share it with a hostile world.
This is such a gorgeous, heartbreaking essay that taught me so much in the short span of reading it. Your substack is my favorite of any I read, by far. Thank you for writing, and for thinking through so much of the mess of this country and also life with a clarity that refuses to simplify.
these sure are some vibes. your work is incredible.
I started following your newsletter recently and just wanted to say that your essays are wonderful. I always end up thinking about the ideas in your posts for days afterward. thank you for your work!
This is so beautiful, Brandon. Thank you for writing it.