All The White Friends I Couldn’t Keep by Andre Henry
(Format used for his read: Print–library book)
A leading voice for social justice reveals how he stopped arguing with White people who deny the ongoing legacy of racism – and offers a proven path forward for Black people and people of color based on the history of nonviolent struggle.
“A moving personal journey that lends practical insight for expanding and strengthening the global antiracist movement.” (Patrisse Khan-Cullors, co-founder of Black Lives Matter, best-selling author of When They Call You a Terrorist)
When the rallying cry “Black Lives Matter” was heard across the world in 2013, Andre Henry was one of the millions for whom the movement caused a political awakening and a rupture in some of his closest relationships with White people. As he began using his artistic gifts to share his experiences and perspective, Henry was aggrieved to discover that many White Americans – people he called friends and family – were more interested in debating whether racism existed or whether Henry was being polite enough in the way he used his voice.
In this personal and thought-provoking book, Henry explores how the historical divides between Black people and non-Black people are expressed through our most mundane interactions, and why this struggle won’t be resolved through civil discourse, diversity hires, interracial relationships, or education. What we need is a revolution, one that moves beyond symbolic progress to disrupt systems of racial violence and inequality in tangible, creative ways.
Sharing stories from his own path to activism – from studying at seminary to becoming a student of nonviolent social change, from working as a praise leader to singing about social justice – and connecting those experiences to lessons from successful nonviolent struggles in America and around the world, Andre Henry calls on Black people and people of color to divest from whiteness and its false promises, trust what their lived experiences tell them, and practice hope as a discipline as they work for lasting change.
Yall know I love me some library books, but there are times when I regret checking a book out instead of purchasing it.
This is one of those times.
As I read this, I wanted to underline and highlight so many words….this is DEFINITELY a book to purchase and then “reread” multiple times.
(I am ordering my own copy as soon as I am done typing this review)
I first came across Andre Henry’s writings, art, music and activism when I was first involved with the Be The Bridge ministry a few years ago.
A couple friends I met while in a BTB small group frequently posted his work on social media… and I began to follow him as well.
Every single time I have read his work or heard his music it sat HEAVILY with me–convicting me and teaching me with its power, pain and beauty.
He is one of those people who just make you FEEL…and also make you ACT.
I knew I had to read this book when I saw it.
And side note….I was pleasantly surprised to find it on the shelf on my local library here in Florida…
Where banned books and “Don’t Say Gay” and not teaching full and accurate history are commonplace.😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑
My community library though has NONE of that nonsense in it’s four walls though and I am THANKFUL.
Instead there are things like tables prominently displaying favorite selections of banned books by the check out desk and a LGBTQIA+ glossary with all the different Pride flags listed next to each definition in the Young Adult section.
Add this to my ginormous list of why I effin’ love libraries….inside their walls can be a safe island to find diversity and inclusion and activism when the world outside is the complete opposite. ❤️
ANYWAY….
I need to make sure I say this before I go on any more about my thoughts on this book.
This is a book written by a Black author about Black liberation for people in the BIPOC community.
As a white person, I realize this book was NOT written with me as the target audience.
I have thoughts similar to when I read Austin Channing Brown’s book “I’m Still Here” which I will share again:
“As a white woman, I will never know how it feels to embody a Black body in this country.
Which is why it is SO SO vital that I LISTEN UP when others tell their stories….to learn from, to lament alongside, and to follow their lead in the calls for justice.”
This is why I picked this book up and am grateful to have read it.
Andre shares A LOT in this book—-he is FULL of wisdom and knowledge, yall.
It is so important to LISTEN to his story and teachings.
He speaks candidly and honestly about his own life experiences…I appreciate and admire his bravery and willingness to do so…I am sure it was not easy emotionally to “relive” some of his harder moments.
He also shares information on history and American policies —I learned quite a lot about nonviolent action against injustices. I plan to read many of the books in his resource list to continue growing my knowledge and awareness in this area.
I unfortunately saw aspects of my own whiteness in some of the white friends and acquaintances he speaks of that he had to cut out of his life.
The microagressions, the unawareness, the ignorance, the insensitivity, the unwillingness to challenge others….I am guilty of so so many of the these in the past.
I strive every day to know better so I can DO better.
I could also understand some of the pains and struggles he felt within church spaces that caused him to eventually leave. The more he learned and became involved in antiracism activism, the more the church tried to silence him….which in turn made him realize many truths about his faith that were hard to accept.
Obviously our experience had very VAST differences, but some things he said and experienced were very similar to things I went thru as well.
So much wisdom in these pages…..
While the entire book was powerful and filled with importance, I will end my review by sharing just a few of his words that stood out to me (and also telling you to GO GET YOU THIS BOOK NOW):
“We’re living through an epistemic crisis of daunting proportions. On the other side of the Trump administration, agreement on what is true seems scarcer than at any time in recent memory, making it nearly impossible for people of different political backgrounds to collaborate for the common good. Conspiracy theories, disinformation, and propaganda are exacerbating the alarming trend of democratic backsliding all around the world.”
“The lies don’t look like they’ll subside any time soon. This means that one of the most important things we can do for racial progress is to call bullshit on racial gaslighting while we work on our own analysis of systemic oppression. Today, my attitude is, unless I and another person are fighting racism together, there’s no need for us to debate about it.”
“The apocalypse showed me that white people’s tone policing is bullshit and Black rage is healthy. Nowadays, when white people call me angry, I don’t lie….When I choose to respond, I usually tell them “You’re right. I am angry, and for good reason. Why aren’t you?” It’s good for them to encounter Black anger because it undermines the big lie that everything is all right.”
“We have a right to all of our feelings, without regard for how white people might feel about them. If the white world wants to be assured that Black people aren’t angry, they should stop doing infuriating things to Black people. It’s that simple.”
“Even when caught committing some of the most heinous acts imaginable, white men seem to retain the details of their humanity. The system still tracks their needs from the bottom to the top of Maslow’s hierarchy. Yet that same system often tries to gut Black people of any such human detail.”
“When I came to understand that there is a spectrum of allies for racial progress–not a binary–I realized that Black people don’t have to sit down and discuss the validity of our struggle with people who don’t think chattel slavery was all that bad an idea. Movement experts suggest that our best bet at mobilizing for social progress is to target the groups in the middle of the spectrum: activate the passive supporters and get the neutrals to care about the issue. Too often, we get bogged down in trying to convince active opposers to racial progress to agree with us. But we can change the world in spite of their opposition by focusing on people who are in the movable middle.”
“Some people assume that we do need to debate with racists because they believe we need everyone on board to create change. That’s incorrect. Social progress is often the work of a committed, creative minority.”
“By the end of that summer, apocalypse showed me that America’s problems can’t be solved by a few reforms here and there. If America wants to become a place where Black lives matter, everything about America will have to change.”
“The question I have today is whether or not all those millions of people who filled the streets in 2020 for George Floyd and Breonna Taylor have realized that their next task is to use nonviolent direct action to crippled the operations of a repressive society. We’re not just fighting for white Americans to be nicer; we’re fighting against a corrupt empire. “
“If white people are serious about fighting white supremacy and anti-Blackness, they need to start within themselves. This kind of work is essential because without it, white people will enter movement spaces and cause the same kinds of harm Black people are trying to get away from. “
“Hope is not the unqualified belief that victory is certain. That’s presumption. True hope remains humble about the future, even as it continues believing in human agency. I’m hopeful because I believe history is a story we’re writing together, not something happening to us–which means we all get a say in how the story ends. But that also means we’re going to have to struggle for the story we want.”
“My favorite thing to do in the streets, whenever I was given the mic or megaphone, was to lead crowds in a game of Simon Says to demonstrate the social view of power. ‘The status quo depends on our mass obedience,’ I’d shout, ‘Therefore, it can be changed through our mass defiance. And to make sure you never forget that, we’re gonna play Simon Says.
‘Simon says clap three times, ‘ I’d instruct.
The crowd would obey.
‘Simon says say your first name.’
They’d do as I say.
‘Simon says pull your pants down!’
Every crowd would laugh.
After that, I’d ask them to identify who truly has the power to keep the game going.
‘We do!’ they’d exclaim.
Then I’d affirm they were right–that the status quo depends on their consent, just like the Simon Says game depends on their obedience.”