I’m Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness by Austin Channing Brown

Ever since I listened to this book last year, I have been recommending it to literally everyone.

As a Black woman, I felt every single word. I laughed. I cried. I got angry. Sometimes all three in the same chapter. But through it all, Austin Channing Brown’s strength and resilience were genuinely awe inspiring. This book is a celebration of Blackness in all of its forms and I simply love it.

Let me be clear — Austin Channing Brown is a SHE, because apparently that still needs to be said when people see that name. And she has inspired me and lit a fire under me where racial justice and equity are concerned in a way that very few books have managed to do.

She doesn’t just talk about growing up Black. She talks about growing up Black AND female in a world filled with misogynoir and a very particular brand of “Christianity” that has historically been wielded as a weapon against the very people it claimed to serve. She puts language to experiences so many of us have lived but never had the words for. That’s a gift.

I’ve always said that whiteness only sees its own humanity and can only truly empathize with those who they see themselves in. So, when I got to this part, I had to pause for a second:

“This is partly what makes the fragility of whiteness so damn dangerous. It ignores the personhood of people of color and instead makes the feelings of whiteness the most important thing.”

That quote lives rent free in my head. Because she said what she said, and she said it with her whole chest.

I can’t truly put into words what I experienced while listening to this book. But to feel heard and seen by someone outside of my inner circle is always awe inspiring. With the exception of the plantation tour and white church experiences, none of this felt foreign to me. The hurt. The rage. The trying to rationalize something you already know the answer to. All of it was captured with a precision that felt almost personal.

And yet, no matter how many of us see ourselves in stories like this, no matter how many of us share the very same feelings and experiences, things will remain as they have been. That reality sits heavy. But kudos to Austin Channing Brown for being unafraid to call a thing a thing. That kind of courage is rare, and this is simply brilliant, exceptional writing.

Unfortunately, the people who absolutely SHOULD read this book will likely never pick it up. But for those of us who stand firm in our Blackness, who have sat in rooms where we were the only, who have smiled through microaggressions and code-switched until we were exhausted — this book sees you. Fully.