My First Novel...

There is nothing like the joy I felt when the proof copy showed up on my doorstep today. I was elated to see the book I had written with my name written on the cover and spine and my photo on the back. It was the first time I would see and hold what I had worked on for the past year with my publisher, book cover designer and myself. It was heavier than I thought it would be and the physical and metaphorical weight of it, brought me to tears. I felt the same sense of pride holding my book as I did when I held my children for the first time with this lingering weird sense of knowing that no one else has yet held this book in its full form besides me and perhaps a few Amazon workers who printed it, put it into a box and sent it off to my doorstep.

My first book, Remington, Remington: A Tale of Two Cities, is a book I started writing in 2020. I put it down and picked it up many times over the years and finally decided to try to get it published in 2023. The writing part was easy compared to the process of navigating the publishing process. While I was writing, I felt like the characters would not let me go. I would see them in the grocery store, driving through my neighborhood, at work, at my kid’s football games and nearly everywhere I went which served as confirmation for me to continue telling their stories.

Being Black in white spaces is a skill I learned to navigate and perfect over the years as I often found myself to be the “only” black person in very white spaces in school, work, community, church and in my neighborhood. In developing the multi-generational characters for my first novel, Remington, Remington: A Tale of Two Cities, I found that their experiences were consistently reflected in mine. Often the writing process would flow so seamlessly, it was as if I was telling my own story. While some of the experiences did happen to me or people that I know, it’s important to note that people of color are not a monolith. We all come from various life experiences, faith traditions, family practices and carry the generational scars of our ancestors. So this is just one story of a wealthy black family living in an American suburb and the impact that systemic racism has on their lives.

The main reason I wanted to write and share the story of the fictional Templeton family is because the black experience in stories, movies, TV shows and books is so often laden with the story of the down and out- the drug dealer, the prisoner, the out of work and out of luck family struggling to survive. (If you have not seen the movie American Fiction- finish what you’re doing and then go see it). While those things can be true, there is a black experience I grew up with and live in that is vastly different from what we see portrayed. I don’t recall my parents ever being unemployed or not having enough money for food. I don’t recall a time when we didn’t have money to travel every summer as a family. I don’t recall ever living anywhere other than a home my parents owned. My parents were educators and their friends were educators, administrators or professionals who worked for Fortune 500 companies at the executive level.

There was constant talk about the importance of education and getting good grades and being prepared for college. Bringing the story of the Templeton’s to life was so important to me because we rarely get to see the lives of what I consider to be a normal black family living in a suburban town navigating the complexities of suburban life where they are often surrounded by people who do not look like them and some who are uncomfortable with their very presence. When you can sometimes go days without seeing someone who looks like you in the place you call home, it can be exhausting. The painful thing about systemic racism is that those unaffected (actually benefiting from it) cannot see it without a carefully trained eye and heart. With that many assumption are made about the experience of black people living in America’s suburbs.

My hope is that you will enjoy this story of the Templeton’s as they navigate Remington and keep an open mind about the real lived experiences of people living in your own community who may not look like you. I hope it will prompt you to want to get a better understanding of the impacts of systemic racism and the fact that it is not limited to just the inner city. I love talking about systemic racism and encourage you to check out my Events page for upcoming events where we can openly discuss making this world a better place for all.

Happy Reading

Michelle Bannister Williams

The Complicity of Silence.

So many of us have been taught that talking openly about racism is bad. That racism is a sin and causes division and that we should remain silent for the sake of maintaining the status quo and to keep everyone comfortable. That the changes of the past have been enough for people of color to be satisfied with, that we should be content with the fact that we are no longer enslaved. But that is how we have gotten to where we are in 2021 with a generation of young people fully aware of their cultural differences and ready to embrace them despite the leading from previous generations to only talk about race when in the presence of like kind. To not disrupt the systems that continue to so clearly benefit some to the detriment of others. If we are to heal as a nation, we must stop the colorblind rhetoric that has taught grown adults, who clearly see color and choose to pretend that they do not, that because some progress has been made in policy that it automatically translates to the procedure. For people of color, not seeing their color means you do not see the biggest part of them. It means you choose to disregard the way systems work together in this country to continue the oppression of some people of color.

Somehow, in the post-civil rights era, the goal became centered around assimilation with the assumption that if black people can just get enough education, get a good enough job, they can have a limited edition of the American Dream. The assumption is that if they work hard enough, we will let a few of them live in our white neighborhoods and go to our white public schools- but no more than 30% because then it begins to impact property and resale values.  And they can join our churches and schools, as long as we will still maintain control at the top with making all of the decisions and setting cultural norms. We will continue to serve them as if they are in need of our help and in the process continue poisoning the minds of the children who watch and hear the way people of color are discussed when they are not present.

It has been said that silence is complicity when it comes to tackling the subject of racism. The silent social contracts that past generations committed to in order to claim a piece of the American Dream and again the conditional acceptance of white America have caused generations of damage because of the silence we sit in.  The silence of the oppressor and the silence of the oppressed has caused damage on both sides that require an end to the silence in order to move toward a resolution. And now we have a generation of young people (many raised with diversity as the standard) of all backgrounds who refuse to remain silent. Their multicultural friend groups have enabled them to embrace and live diversity, equity, and inclusion in a way that previous generations have not. It’s time to follow their leads, they needed no explanation when we all watched George Floyd being murdered before our eyes, they just took to the streets with cries for justice and unity. They needed no explanation to come alongside their black brothers and sisters when they heard our simple rally cry that Black Lives Matter. Unlike their parents, they always knew it was never about an organization but always simply about the very existence of people with black and brown skin and the inherent value of their lives.  The only reason one could not utter the words Black Lives Matter is because in their heart, they do not in fact believe that they do.

I am inspired by their refusal to remain silent and I am regretful of the generation I came up with and our satisfaction with remaining silently compliant in order to maintain peace.  I can speak for myself that I remained silent in my predominately white Catholic grade school when my second-grade teacher made racist remarks to me and made fun of my hair on picture day and tried to fix it resulting in me permanently documented in a class photo with my hair messed up. I remained silent in my predominately white “Christian” high school when administration encouraged and repeatedly supported a fundraiser where students were auctioned off as slaves for the day in a slave sale complete with the live auction process and handmade posters proclaiming the “worth” of certain students over others. It was a painful reminder for me and the other 5 black students of how our ancestors were sold and divided tearing our families apart. I remained silent in my predominately white college when faced with a white roommate who demanded her needs be accommodated over mine because she was not comfortable with my black friends entering our space. I remained silent in corporate America when watching white managers discriminate against black co-workers by excluding them from opportunities for advancement because they were uncomfortable with people of color leading. I watched those same leaders rise even higher in leadership positions providing them greater opportunity and power to impact the hiring decisions and job assignments that limit or expand career opportunities for people of color. I remained silent as a parent while white teachers and white school administration insisted my children were problematic in the public school setting with regular suspensions and detentions and the insistence that my sons be medicated to make them more comfortable dealing with them. I remained silent when walking through the downtown area in the predominately white suburb (former sundown town) I have lived in for over 20 years to be called the N-word by a woman who made it clear that this was her town and people like me don’t belong here, insisting that her grandparents would never believe what this town is allowing by letting people like me walk down the main street. I remained silent in my predominately white church as they proclaim behind closed doors that they welcome people of color but refuse to celebrate their diversity while singing songs that say they will make room for whatever God wants to do but then blatantly miss so many opportunities to do so when presented with the chance because they have a history of not trusting people of color with being in leadership. Singing break down the walls of all my tradition but then holding on to the traditional segregation that has been dividing Christians since the beginning. I remained silent when numerous times in my own community when I have been stopped and questioned by police while going to the post office, dropping my kids off at school, heading to work, driving to the park, and even once in my own driveway when a cop followed me home demanding to see my ID with my address even after I opened my own garage door.

In 2020, I decided I could no longer be silent and that my voice needed to be heard in the very spaces God has placed me in. It fractured some relationships and enhanced others and prompted me to write my first book. It prompted me to seek further education in order to be better equipped to help others have these uncomfortable conversations with their own friends and colleagues. It prompted me to start a diversity book club to host discussions exclusively about books on racism with diverse groups of people who would not otherwise be able to engage in these sometimes difficult conversations. It prompted me to get more involved with my local church and get on board with the programs they are doing to enhance the internal and external conversations that need to be had within the church and the surrounding community that will lead to the healing and reconciliation we so desperately need. 

Although I have lost a few friends along the way, I have also gained some unexpected allies that I am so excited about continuing to work with- some old friendships rekindled and new ones have emerged that I am excited to explore. What I now know is that those who pretended to be allies and come alongside of me did not all have the same goal and I am learning to work closer with those who are willing to do the work to help us become better as a country. What I also know is that I am here not just to learn but to teach and I count that a privilege as I have a lifetime of curriculum at my disposal and with a few prerequisites, I am willing to engage with anyone willing to learn.