We Are Not Like Them

““I’m just freaked out, you know. The closer I get…’ Jen stops and looks down at her stomach again. ‘The scarier it is. There are so many things that can go wrong, you know what I mean?’ I know exactly what she means—the biting fear that everything you’ve worked for can disappear in a second, that you can bust your butt, do everything right, and it won’t matter one bit. I know it all too well.”

While the women struggle with the role that race plays in their lives and friendship, they are also pulled by their other expectations in life: for Jenny, motherhood, and for Riley, her career. However, this quote is underpinned by the expectation drilled into Riley for her whole life that she will need to work harder and be better than those around her if she wants to be successful. While Jenny struggles with infertility here, Riley speaks to the unpredictability of being a Black woman.

““Okay, I love you, Pony.’ I already have my finger on the button ready to hang up with Riley says it, the nickname from back when we were kids, one she hasn’t used in years. Pony for me, for my long blond ponytail I wore every single day in elementary school—the only style Lou could manage no matter how much I begged for French braids. And Puff for Riley, for the trademark Afro puffs she wore atop her head from grade one through five. Riley’s mom wasn’t much more creative.”

Hair is one of the ways the authors draw a distinction between Jenny and Riley. It is also part of their lived experience and shows the ways Riley and Jenny have handled the issue of race in their friendship, even from a young age. This motif reinforces the idea that race has always been in their friendship, but they have yet to face it in the way they do after Justin’s death.

“‘We can’t be silent. We will speak. We will not stop speaking. We will march. We will not stop marching. We will no longer let our babies be cut down in the streets. We will demand justice. For each and every boy and girl unfairly and unjustly slain. Michael Brown, Eric Gardner, Tamir Rice, Freddie Gray…’ He counts each name with a knobby finger, a roster that’s too long and hauntingly familiar. At least to some people. I wonder who holds these names in their memories, a reminder and a warning. Does Jen? Does she know all these names? Does she carry them with her as I do?”

This passage reinforces that when Black people are killed by police, it is not only a loss for the families but also a loss the larger community as a whole. They serve as a cautionary tale and a constant reminder of what it is like to be Black in America. However, Riley questions here why only the Black community keeps this roster, and she wonders if white people, people like Jen, even know or remember these lost lives that are a call to action for the Black community.

“I swear some of these dudes decide to be cops just so they can bust heads—Black and brown heads—and be on a power trip. I mean, maybe that’s not Kevin necessarily, but it’s a lot of them. You hear about their text messages with n***** this and that and leaving nooses in locker rooms and whatnot and people have to wonder why we’re suspicious of the police.”

Shaun, Riley’s brother, says this. It helps to articulate why Black people have such distrust in the police. Although we don’t know it at this time, Shaun has had his own interactions with the police and the law, where he was treated with certain biases. The statement also highlights the power that police are told they have and how they abuse it, especially against Black and brown folks.

“That’s not going to happen. We don’t turn on our own. When we draw our guns, we do it for a good reason, and we shouldn’t have to defend ourselves for defending lives. You have no idea what it’s like out there. I spent forty years on the force. I’ve been shot at, punched in the jaw. Some crazy son of a bitch tried to run me over with his car after we tried to arrest him for beating the hell out of his pregnant wife. When you’ve been on the streets long enough, deal with the criminal element long enough, you have instincts, and you can’t explain to instincts to anyone. We do what we do to protect ourselves and our partners. There’s a thing called loyalty in the force, and Kevin would never turn against another cop. Right, Kevin?”

 In a stark contrast to the chapter before, Kevin’s family members share their outlook on the situation. Kevin comes from a long line of cops, and his father refuses to entertain the idea of Kevin testifying against Cameron, who was the first to shoot. Interestingly, this is not a loyalty to the law or justice, but rather to a fellow cop. It also highlights the violence officers deal with on the job. Kevin’s family has little to no sympathy for Justin, even though Kevin struggles with what he has done. Finally, it gives context to Kevin’s actions: Even though they can’t be explained, they are instincts.

“‘It’s not okay, it’s not.’ Her words drip with anger. I know it isn’t directed at me, but at everything else. At all the ways it has not been okay. ‘They dragged him through the town. Roger and his friends. They did terrible things to him. Terrible.’ I don’t need the horrific details; she can spare us both. I can already picture them. I have a vivid memory from my own childhood of coming across a copy of the 1955 issue of Jet magazine with Emmett Till’s mutilated corpse right there on the cover. I found it in Daddy’s drawer, tucked away like a keepsake. There was Till’s face, bloated beyond recognition, flesh mottled with deep purple bruises, swollen slits where eyes should be. You couldn’t even tell he was a young boy, only a few years older than me at the time; the savage beating and drowning had left him horribly disfigured. I couldn’t tear myself away from the picture, or the article. I read it over and over, like it could offer an answer to the questions that most vexed my young mind: Why do they hate us so much?”

When Riley learns about the lynching of her grandmother’s cousin, she is overwhelmed with emotion. This quote highlights that this trauma is recursive—not only the killing itself, but the loss of life, of community members—and the details are splattered everywhere for everyone to experience continually. It underpins the theme that his will continue to happen, much like Justin, who thought about how he knew better than to reach for his phone as he lay dying in the street. He had been warned. It also illustrates how this trauma is passed down in different ways to the next generation: verbally, such as through Gigi, telling this story, and through found material—her father kept the magazine with the image of Emmett Till’s corpse on the cover.

“It kills me how some people want so badly to believe racism is buried beneath layers and layers of history, “ancient history,” they say. But it’s not. It’s like an umpire brushing the thinnest layer of dirt off home plate: it’s right there. Only too often the trauma, the toll of it, remains unknown generation after generation. Like how Gigi kept her own awful secret, presumably to protect us from the ugly truth, and I’ve kept my own secrets, haunted by a similar shame.”

While this novel is rooted in experience, the characters’ inability or refusal to discuss the problematic and ugly truths keeps the recursive cycle of violence and racism alive. It reinforces the narrative that those who experience racism should be ashamed and that shame keeps it alive. Riley reflects on her secrets about racism and how she has buried them.

““Well, on this is that ne never killed ants. Wouldn’t even step on them. Would go out of his way to let the ants cross in a line on the sidewalk. And chicken tenders were his favorite food. He had these stinky little feet as a baby. I used to put them right in my mouth and kiss his little toes. His first word was ‘duck.’ He called pigeons ducks, and we let him do it. How’d he know any better, growing up in the city the way he did? She stops to laugh, then turns serious again, as if she's caught herself doing something wrong. She speaks more softly now, and I hope the mic is able to capture it. ‘I wasn’t finished with him yet. I had so many things left to teach him. I’m never gonna get the chance now.’”

Riley’s primary motivation to get an interview is so people can see Justin as more than just a victim, name, or unarmed Black boy. She wants people to see who he was from his mother’s mouth. She knows that this will help stoke the fire of his story and get people to care about this boy who was murdered.

“She truly cares. Riley looks so genuinely pained, I want to reach through the phone and comfort her, the grieving mother, too. Then I remember; The man they’re talking about locking up for the rest of his life is my husband.”

It isn’t that Jenny is incapable of understanding where her friend is coming from, but she is torn, as highlighted in the quote. She wants to be there for her friend, but the consequence of doing so is her husband being locked up for life. Jenny navigates the push and pull throughout the novel, leading to the conflict between the friends. Jenny so badly wants Riley to see Kevin as good, but the implications Kevin’s action has on Riley's emotions, life, and career keep her from being able to do so.

“Sabrina nods in agreement. ‘Well, I’m with you there. As you just heard, I’m all about reform. And you know how these white folks just love to be chastised like it’s their racial penance or something. Makes them feel like they’re learning. All they want to do is stay learning…’ Her eyes roll at the word. ‘Like that does a damn thing. Let’s just hope it gets them to open their checkbooks though […]’” 

The way white people handle race and allyship is critiqued in this novel. Even though those who think they are supporting Black people and communities often fall short, as the district attorney explains here. Learning is the only action they know, instead of structurally making any kind of change. Here, power is acknowledged as necessary to make a change.

“I celebrated at the Wilsons’ with a sheet cake under a giant arc of purple and white balloons when Riley decided to go to Northwestern, but the bitterness was something I could taste, like the too-sweet strawberry icing, every time I thought about how I could have gotten a scholarship and gone to college if I’d been Black like my best friend. Then I hated myself for thinking that. Riley worked so hard, harder than me, harder than anyone. And of course, she deserved good things. She deserved everything.”

This quote reveals more about Jen and how she views her best friend. While there are racial differences between Jenny and Riley, there are also class differences they have to navigate. Again, this thought from Jenny shows that these differences were present but rarely acknowledged in their friendship. This is also an excellent example of Jenny pushing back at some of the thoughts she has been socialized to have about her best friend, fueled by racism and jealousy. She is ashamed and actively works to change her thinking. However, as a poor lower-class daughter of a single mother, she sees Riley get things that she doesn’t. Riley, we know, achieves these things in part because she is trying to outwork her racial identity

“The middle-aged Black woman sitting beside me in the back row moaned like she had a hurt deep in her bones. ‘When will they stop killing out boys? She said. It was almost exactly what one of the LEO wives, a white woman, had said back at Jamal’s funeral. “When’s it going to stop? When are these streets going to be safe for our boys? Same street, different boys.”

Thankful that her husband is alive, Jenny often looks at Justin’s death and thinks of the death of a police officer, Jamal. Jenny is one of the only characters who actively hears and experiences both the Black community’s emotions and the frustrations of her husband’s family. Even though she doesn’t always speak against the irony, she recognizes it. The use of irony here is purposeful, as it adds to the complex nature of the situation and quietly raises questions about power.

“It’s mighty foolish of us to wait for anything. To wait to tell someone we love them or that we’re mad as hell at them. Kevin did a terrible thing, it’s true, and a young boy is dead and he has to live with that, with that heaviness in his soul. I’m not going to weigh in on how he should be punished. That’s for God to decide. But Jenny is not Kevin, and that girl loves you, and sometimes we need to swallow our pride and reach out. Even when we don’t know what to say and we’re afraid of messing everything up by saying the wrong things. It doesn’t matter if you don’t know how to talk about something. All that matters is you try. The longer you let something go, the easier it is to stay silent and the silence is where the resentment starts to foster and rot.”

This is one of the first conversations in which Riley can open up and get honest advice. This is another layer to the theme of silence. Not only is there generational silence that causes shame in Riley’s family and the Black community, but Riley also keeps things to herself. While there is no solution to this situation, she can still talk to Jenny.

“Back to normal? Jesus, Jenny an innocent boy is dead. And Kevin and Travis Cameron get to go on with their lives like nothing happened? I don’t know how I can sit down with your husband and eat burgers and act like everything’s a-okay. It’s so not okay. And the fact that you don’t get that.”

This response sits in Riley’s email drafts, never sent. The email exchange is tense, but it is still clear that one cares about the other as they check in about the baby and the death of Gigi. In an attempt to take her mother’s advice, Riley writes this email, but she doesn’t send it because she doesn’t want to deal with the fallout and escalate things, although she knows this is a cop-out. This is one of the moments when Riley is the most torn about the situation with her friend. She wants to be there for Jenny, but she wants Kevin to pay for the young life he took. It is increasingly frustrating that Jenny won’t acknowledge that this situation is about race. Because she and Jenny have never explicitly talked about race, she doesn’t know how to say it to her best friend, afraid that she won’t understand.

“Dating a white man—marrying one, if it came to that—felt disloyal. I always thought I should end up with a fine upstanding brother, build up the community, have two beautiful brow skinned children who would be a credit as well, advance their race, the cause. Not with this white guy… Sometimes, as I lay beside him in bed, his pale body next to mine, one word would float through my mind: ‘sellout.’ I swore I saw the same word floating like a cartoon bubble above Gigi’s head when he visited that weekend. She was perfectly polite to Corey, but as soon as he was out of earshot, she couldn’t help reminding me, ‘He’s never going to get you, and you won’t get him. Why add more heartache to your plate? The world is hard enough as it is. Find one of your own.’”

This is the first insight into why Corey and Riley’s relationship ended, revealing the thinking that he would never be able to or want to understand her experience as a Black woman. She doesn’t even give him the chance to do so, and ultimately it is the same thing she does to Jenny. While Riley is known even in her own family for being closed off, this tendency is exacerbated in her relationships with white people for fear they won’t understand. This silence has played a role in some of the losses she has in her life: her relationship with Corey ending and her resentment with Jenny. However, this skill is a form of self-preservation, especially coming from her grandmother, whose own cousin was lynched for liking a white woman. This is an example of the passing down of generational trauma.

“She’s not wrong. ‘Look, Jen, I’m sorry if you feel this is coming out of nowhere. But put yourself in my shoes. I didn’t want to be the Black girl always talking about race. That’s no fun. And I don’t know what your reaction would be if I told you about all the shit I have to deal with because I am a Black woman. What if you don’t have the right reaction?’ ‘What’s the right reaction?’ She seems genuinely curious and confused like she truly has no idea. ‘Like showing me you get it, Jen. Or at least you are trying to.’”

This is the crux of Jenny and Riley’s argument in the visitor’s center of the hospital. Riley is finally able to share what she is most afraid of: If Jenny won’t understand or even try to understand her experience, where can their friendship go from there? This is a huge step, as Riley is finally able to finally say it and give Jenny a chance to understand.

“‘I don’t know, Jen—do you really get it? Do you get that my life and experiences as a Black woman have been completely different than yours as a white woman? Do you understand why people are destroyed right now, Jen, destroyed by Justin’s death/ And not just the Dwyers. It’s what it signifies—all the ways that Black people, people who look like me, aren’t safe. Everything you are saying about the shooting makes me question whether you understand any of this. And maybe it’s not fair, but it just brought up a lot of stuff that we never talk about or acknowledge…’ ‘I never said I didn’t want to talk about race with you. I just don’t even think of it most of the time; I don’t even think about you being Black.’ ‘That’s exactly my point, Jen!... You’re so blindly focused on Kevin, which I get, that you’re not seeing the larger implications or issues. It’s a privilege to never think about race. I don’t have that privilege. I love you, Jenny, but I just need you to I don’t know, wake up a little more.’” 

Finally, Riley can share what she has been so upset about and personally dealing with. It is not only Justin’s death and the role her best friend’s husband had in it but also that it has highlighted all the racial tensions between them their entire friendship. Riley is asking to be seen for everything she is, which includes being Black. In a world that is so unsafe for those who look like her, she wants to be seen for that and not have her race, and her experience, pushed to the side, especially by her best friend.

“When we decided that Kevin was going to turn himself in today, all my attempts at positive thoughts and promises to stand by my man were immediately replaced by one screaming question: How can I stay with him? I don’t just mean in the moral sense, I mean in the actual sense of how I will manage as a single mother with a husband locked away. I can’t let him get locked away.”

This is another example of Jen being torn about her husband’s situation and how she will get through it, and how she will support a husband in prison and be a single mom, like hers. All Jenny has searched for her entire life is safety and stability, which is now being threatened. This is why she so badly wants him to take a deal—she can’t lose her husband. Again, this choice reinforces the privilege that she has in this situation. It is also worth noting here the faith she has in the justice system to give her what she wants, an experience that many in the Black community don’t have.

“‘What would you do if someone killed your baby?’ I don’t even hesitate because I’ve thought about this every single day since Chase was born. ‘I’d kill them with my bare hands.’ ‘Exactly’ The hard look in Tamara’s eyes tells me that she imagined it too. ‘But it wouldn’t do anything, would it?’ I stutter a little. ‘Would it make it better?’ She glares at me in the mirror. ‘Sometimes I think so. A life for a life. But that’s not what I want. I want my son back. I want my baby back. I want to wrap my arms around him and kiss his sweaty head and never let him go back outside into a world where a man like your husband will shoot him in the chest for walking home from school.’”

Jenny sees Tamara, Justin’s mother, in the restroom at the courthouse. Jenny attempts to apologize, but Tamara doesn’t want to hear it. Here are two mothers, one whose son is gone and one whose son is here, an answer to her prayers. The birth of Chase is the salt in the wound, forcing the question of who deserves to live and survive. This is also a powerful moment revealing a mother's love and what she would do for her family. Jenny is trying to keep hers together, while Tamara has no one left.

“Exactly as Jenny called me out in the car at the hospital. It was easier not to give Corey the benefit of the doubt, not to trust that he would be able to understand, not to give him the chance to create an irreparable breach by saying the wrong things if we tackled tricky subjects. That fear of being disappointed or dismissed was real—and crippling. As with Jenny, there was the worry that talking would be futile and somehow make things worse instead of better. But Jen, or Corey for that matter, had never given me a reason to believe they wouldn’t understand or at least try to understand.”

Here, Riley can pinpoint precisely that her fear caused friction in her relationships. This is a massive step for her, and knowing this, she can move forward and help to heal her relationships. This also validates that her experience deserves to be heard and seen, which is a stark contrast to her old way of thinking, where she would hold everything in and hide it. Talking about complex topics and not assuming people won’t understand or try to understand is the way to move forward. Because there is no real answer in this situation, letting herself be open to love is a huge step.

“I can’t make excuses for what happened in those five seconds, but I want to own up to what I did. You deserve your son back; I wish I could give that to your, but I can’t. One day, I will have to tell my own boy what I did. I’ll have to tell him so that he understands the power we all have to harm other people even when we don’t mean to. I’ll tell him because I want him to be better than me, to do better than me […] I don’t want you to think that I believe there is anything I can say or do to make this right. There’s not, I know that. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I only want you to know what I will carry your son’s memory and do the best I can with my own life to honor his.”

Kevin apologizes in a letter written to Tamara Dwyer. However, he does not justify his actions. This detail highlights the complexity of the situation and reinforces that there is no one way to move forward. It also highlights the implications Justin’s loss will have on Kevin’s own son and that he will not only have to live with what he has done, but he will have to one day explain to his son what he did. This reinforces the work that needs to be done, but it also breaks the circle of silence.

“Well, now he is one, an example of someone who accepts consequences, who breaks the silence. More people need to. I get that now. Maybe it’ll make a difference. Maybe it some small silver lining.”

Kevin cannot make it right, but he can do the right thing. He is accepting the consequences and owning up to what he has done, even though that decision will change his entire life and cut him out of the police force and his family. However, it also sets an example and a precedent, which is one good thing that could come from it.

“It was Riley she ended up telling things to—like how Justin’s toothbrush is still in a cup on the sink. Its bristles are frayed and worn, and every morning she thinks about how it’s time to throw this one out and buy him a new one. Or how she lives in fear that Justin’s fish will die and she won’t know what to do with herself when that happens. When she talks about Justin, it’s like he’s still alive, like she can imagine he’s just been sleeping over at his grandma’s for a couple of nights. Which is still, even after all this time, a common phenomenon. The forgetting.”

As Riley and Jenny move on, the final chapter of the story reminds us that life was still lost and that loss does not go away once the story and the reporters do. This killing has had real consequences and led to loss and grief. This passage humanizes the situation one last time, reminding us that a mother is still out there without her child.