On my most recent trip to Barnes and Noble, my boyfriend and I were on the quest to finally obtain a copy of Aziz Ansari’s Modern Romance, a book that we have been meaning to read together for a while now. We found two copies but the covers were badly damaged so we were escorted to the Humor section to find some more. While waiting for the associate to check the back stock, I began to scan through the shelves and found How To Be Black. As I glossed through the first two pages, I found myself laughing (out loud) for real, not the “I will type lol with a stone cold face” way. This was enough to warrant its purchase.
I can imagine how it appeared. Me, a white girl, walking alongside my black boyfriend, carrying a book entitled How To Be Black. Will I be undergoing some initiation to further our relationship? Is it mere anthropological research? Or am I dating him as a mere cover for my desire to be of another race? And that is exactly the beauty of the book, and we are only discussing its title. The uneasiness that it evokes clearly demonstrates that we do not exist in this postracial fallacy that we desperately want to exist. Race continues to drive institutions and society itself. Racism exists. Continue reading