To Understand and Be Understood

I READ Austin Channing Brown’s incredible book in one sitting. This is one that every black woman needs to read to be validated and every white person needs to read to receive some perspective (and empathy) that will help inform their behavior and interactions. In this short book, Brown has concisely articulated the burdens, questions, and frustrations that I find myself experiencing daily as a black woman.

Brown brilliantly navigates explaining the intersections of blackness and womanhood, the microaggressions between workspaces and social circles, and the constant fears that so many black people face around losing everything (including life) in one moment. She “goes there” by highlighting that churches can present the most danger and racism for black people, and even chooses to address the riskiest topic of them all: the immense harm that can be caused by well-meaning, progressive white people.

Brown sets up all of this in a manner that allows readers to understand why black women may be angry but does not permit readers to ever call black women angry. Her ability to simultaneously parallel and intertwine so many dynamics of the black experience allows readers to see both immense complexity and basic clarity at the same time. She successfully weaves in personal narratives, news headlines, and popular culture to paint a beautiful representation of both the collective experiences of blackness and every black woman’s unique individuality. As I read, I could simultaneously see Brown as myself, as a fellow “sista,” and as a person who has overcome and achieved incredible things.

Amid all the tough conversations that Brown personally has with her readers, what I most appreciate is that I closed the book feeling empowered—not just because I felt understood, but because I felt proud to be a black woman. Brown celebrates blackness throughout this book: Our strength, our talents, our culture, our intelligence, and our magic. This book reads as a lesson and a love letter. It teaches without a single lecture, and it preaches without a single sermon. This book tells it like it is while still being digestible.

White readers may still experience some fragility that accompanies the truth-to-power that’s spoken, but Brown’s approach is clearly through a lens of empathy to build understanding, not blaming for the sake of shaming. And as a black woman, I appreciate that it never felt like she was giving me advice about how to best navigate my daily experiences. She lifted up my challenges in the form of validation and understanding, but for once this was not followed by a lecture that I should show extra grace, extra patience, extra strength, and extra everything else. It was a relief, particularly in relation to the expectations that are laid on me as a Christian.

When I finished the book, I felt empowered to live my best life. I felt strengthened to endure because Brown insinuated that I was built for this and that I was not alone. My hope is that other black women who read this will feel similarly, and that everyone else can be empathetic allies who are able to share the lessons learned with others and join us in solidarity in the work ahead.