WHEN THEY TELL YOU TO BE GOOD

A Jamaican poet and activist debuts with an unflinching memoir.

“To be Black is to weather pain,” writes Shakur. “To use some of the same devices used against us in the plantation fields. Our families must break some part of us to make us less breakable when the world, hungry for Black flesh, tries to break us too.” By age 15, the author had already lost five close male relatives to murder, and he dedicates much of the book to reckoning with their violence (“the men of my family and of the Afro-Caribbean diaspora are products of masculinities crafted by an unjust society”) and chronicling the forging of his own path. Facing relentless homophobia, he recognized early that being gay meant that he must be prepared to die. He found solace in writing, where he channeled his wounds, and he became an activist in the aftermath of the death of Michael Brown in 2014. Protesting in Ferguson, he realized, “If we fought together, then our Blackness could mean far more than what we had been told it was our entire lives.” Like early adulthood itself, some of the text lacks a coherent structure. The author writes about his extensive travels during and after college, during which he experienced prejudice like he often did at home. Born in 1994, Shakur attempts to create in-the-moment art in relation to his traumas, but the narrative would have benefitted from further reflection. In the standout sections, focusing on his childhood, he demonstrates that he has enough distance from the events to create more nuanced perspectives. In reconciling the anguish he experienced after an uncle was killed by police, Shakur writes, “the lesson is not about our ability to fantasize about self-actualization. The lesson is, instead, what we are willing to face to actualize the deepest and hidden parts of ourselves.”

A scorching, nonlinear journey through a Black man’s search for self.