‘So You Want to Talk About Race’ Is Back on the Bestseller List. Ijeoma Oluo Wants to Live in a World That Doesn’t Need Her Book
Do you ever hope that your own book becomes obsolete?
Yes, absolutely, and for a couple of reasons. One, my book is kind of a primer for talking about these issues. I hope first that it becomes obsolete because people have moved on to books that address how we actually dismantle this system. And two, I think that everyone who does this kind of work hopes it will be obsolete because the hope is that future generations have bigger, grander ideas. I hope that with them, we see some resolution. I hope that we move on to tackle other issues as well.
You wrote this book about race, and it’s fantastically popular and important. But do you ever feel like, “There’s other work I want to be doing that isn’t this”?
Unfortunately, right now as a writer, this is literally all I am doing. It’s all that I can do. I just finished writing a book on histories of white supremacy in America, and I had been very excited about the thought of not doing this, of not being steeped in violent white supremacy and antiblackness, but here we are. Just a couple of weeks after turning it in, this is my life again. And I would love for it not to be.
As a writer and as someone who loves writing, I would love for writing to not be a traumatic experience for me. I am hoping one day to be able to devote my time to fiction. There are some bad mysteries in my brain that I would love to get out there to the public! I would love to experiment. I would love to be a creative writer. And right now this is really where I am, and it’s painful and it hurts.
When we talk about race in America, it’s important to recognize how much energy is stolen from people of color, especially Black and indigenous people in this country, in dealing with racism. I constantly think of what could we be if this wasn’t determining so much of our lives. What could we do if that energy was freed up? What could I write if that energy was freed up?
There are different ways to die in this country. You can die physically on the street being shot by our police officers or choked to death by our police officers. You can also die the slow death of watching all of your potential, and time, and energy being drained away, trying to survive a brutal system.
I’m always conscious of overemphasizing self-care, but I also know that if you don’t find a way to keep going, if you don’t find a way to take care of yourself, you can’t keep doing this work. How have you been managing?
It’s really tough. For me right now, it’s about community, and it’s about my family. My partner is really great at creating space for me to grieve and to relax and to rest. And we’re checking in with each other. We’ve been coming together and checking on each other, and saying, “How are you? Are you okay? Are you hanging in there?”
At the same time, it’s important that people understand the magnitude of the risk that we’re taking. And people of color and Black and indigenous people in particular, are already at extreme risk from COVID-19. George Floyd in fact had survived COVID-19; he had been infected and pulled through, only to be killed by police. Breonna Taylor was a first responder and an essential worker, who was putting her life on the line in this pandemic, and she was killed by police. Even when we survive one issue, there’s another one there waiting for us.
Still, I’ve been making time to find some joy, which I think is important. It’s hard to prioritize it, because everything else seems so urgent. But we have to, because we’re fighting for our civil rights. It’s not just “Can we not be shot by cops?” We want more than that. We’re fighting for us to be whole.
This interview has been edited and condensed.
Mattie Kahn is the culture director at Glamour.
