How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America Paperback – August 13, 2013

I think I got this book because it was featured on the Today show. I’m always looking for book recommendations. I had no idea that I needed to hear these stories though. I don’t consider myself “the worst of white people” because my mind is open and my heart believes all peoples deserve love, fairness, and justice but because I am white, I have no real concept of the fear and injustice black people live with daily, hourly, in America. We are a racist nation and I’ve never believed that or witnessed that so fully until last year. Maybe I am “the worst of white people” because I didn’t take the time to learn and listen. I loved Kiese’s free flowing, line of thought sentences and use of repetition. It was like reading a poem in many parts. I’m glad this white girl got to see a glimpse of an amazing black writer but more than that, Just a writer with a different life experience from me but experiences that I needed to hear. And now I’m going to buy his fiction book.

I kept thinking even before opening the pages, having already read some of the essays on his blog titled Cold Drank, that it was a book I wanted and needed my not-so-adult younger brother to read- hoping it would serve as surrogate father-like wisdom that I believed the 22-year old who has had a series of screw ups, growing up the only boy in a house of women, needed. He recently announced the pregnancy of his girlfriend who I have never met and his pride at becoming a father. Kiese wrote something in one of these essays that struck me so strongly regarding the presence of men in a young black boys life- do women need and crave the presence of a strong male figure more than a young black boy needs it? The feminist in me screams "No, I'll be damned if I ever say that I'll ever need a man in my life." My mother, aunt, and grandmother did it for me- and I damn sure don't need it, though I thought I could understand why young boys need that presence... Not saying this made me realize that I needed a man in my life, but it made me open my eyes and drop my ego a few notches. I have come to a realization over the last few weeks that at the tender age of 28, I'm both too young and too old to be as unhappy as I have been in my life since graduating from undergrad some 6 years ago where I met and silently praised Kiese. So removed from him, I wondered if I just drank the Kool-Aid that everyone was serving him as opposed of really understanding him. I read half of the book of essays on my two-hour plane ride home from Seattle to San Francisco and fought back tears and realization that maybe I needed more from this book than my brother. We don't often see things from different perspectives, and I'm saying, I understand a little bit more than I did before reading. Thank you!

The title of this book was the fist thing to catch my attention. After reading the synopsis and some well written reviews, I purchased the book at an incredibly reasonable price. I did not have high expectations, as I've read many books by unknown writers via Amazon kindle and I find many to be rather lacking in quality. However, after reading the first 20 pages or so I clearly saw Mr. Laymon's talent. He is quite eloquent at times. Often his imagery is excellent; however, there are times when it's a bit convoluted. I initially thought I was not his target audience (white, upper-middle class, highly educated, etc.). But I think everyone is his target audience. His world seems so far removed from the world I grew up in; yet, many of the truths seem universal. I know people who scoff at the notion that racism is still prominent in the U.S.; Mr. Laymon rips that falsehood open and lays it bare. He succeeds in showing how he, and those in his life, is not a victim but rather a player in a flawed system.That being said there is something a bit off about the book. At times, the book has contradictions but he seems to say it is only because he is full of contractions (as we all are). This message is a bit lost at times. Additionally, the chapters are at time disjointed and could use a better transition. For that reason I gave the book four stars. I'm sure these problems will resolve themselves with experience. I will be watching for his next book because I am sure he has more to say and an excellent voice with which to say it. Well done!

The compassion, vulnerability and insights in this book are so powerful and truthful. I’m deeply touched and grateful to have had them shared so honestly. The author’s essays on being a Southern Black man are detailed and specific to his experience, yet they have spoken to me, “his wider audience”, with lasting impact. I finished reading with a soreness of the heart as well as huge respect for the healing power of writing for both the author and the reader.

I read the original version of How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America when in first came out and it fundamentally shifted what I thought was possible with essay writing. Truly one of the best books I’ve ever read. The new edition is even more spectacular. Seriously, read this book!

Growing up in Alabama, I am no stranger to difficult conversations about race. Kiese Laymon pushes the discourse further. He demands his readers face the ways that masculinity, sexuality, class, and love (or its absence) are all bound together and cannot be separated from how we think about race. It is difficult to reflect on your positionality as you read the vulnerable and intimate words of this work. It challenges you to wrestle with the implications for complicity in our own lives and the ways we contribute to others and our own trauma. I assign it each semester to students in my college courses and it resonates with many of them. This is an essential piece of reading and particularly relevant to our current climate.

This is a great book - so moving and personal and yet very political at the same time.

I needed this book in my life!

How did the book make me feel/think?I don’t want to be racist.How can I not be racist?I grew up surrounded by people mostly looking like me. We sucked. We’d been conditioned from birth and come from generation after generation of whites being told there will always be someone below you—if you listen to us—watch what we create for you—read what we tell you—learn what we teach you. We’re giving you the advantage.We had a Siamese cat named Guy. My brother nicknamed it Guy blank-blank, blank, blank-blank, blank-face. When I was eight, I’d stand on our porch and call out Guy’s nickname, signalling Guy to come home.One of my aunts, after visiting Jamaica, stated her opinions on Jamaican fathers. It wasn’t glowing.When I was twenty-three, my girlfriend’s parents told her, he wished she behaved more like the polite Japanese volleyball girls, he’d been tasked with driving around.We’d get floor-licking drunk, that was okay because we were not Indigenous.I’ve been pulled over for traffic offences on a few occasions; one time, I swore at the police officer—without repercussion—without fearing repercussion.A friend and I were stopped by police while pushing our car home while drunk—no repercussions.A few days ago, I saw two non-white guys looking down at a causeway; my first thought, I’d never say aloud, shamed me. Why is it on the ready?I want to share with the few black people I know, announce, really, I’ve read this book. I’m not sure if that’s okay. I think it would reveal how much of an ass I can be.“How to Slowly Kill…” and other books about those who do not look like me are salves to heal my conditioning. They call out to white people: look inward and continue growing in this never-ending understanding, we are not unique; we all bleed red.I’ll never truly comprehend the unwavering advantage I’ve been given + the unforgivable truths we’ve inflicted on those who don’t look like us, just because we’ve been conditioned to believe the festering lies of entitlement.I don’t want to be racist.So, I’ll read more.WRITTEN: January 22, 2021