Don’t you just love when you discover hidden jems? I mean, those unexpected but deliciously arbitrary gifts of goodness that have been bestowed upon you, for no particular reason that you can think of? It’s kind of like when you find a crinkled $10 bill in your jean pocket, which has most likely endured atleast one cycle in the washing machine; or when you discover your favorite Mac lip gloss which you lost two years ago, hidden under the driver’s seat of your Infiniti; or when the office downstairs has food leftover from a meeting and decides to pass on the catered turkey-sandwich lunches to you and your colleagues. Never mind that you skipped breakfast that morning and were just about to order a sub from the local deli shop. Life is funny like that; it surprises you when you least expect it.
A few weeks ago, I was helping to plan the Leadership Institute’s 5th annual Women of Color Conference for Attorneys in Atlanta, and there was a particular book called Friends and Lovers in Black and White, that we were placing inside the program totes in addition to the other conference materials. It was written by one of the panelists—Altomease Rucker Kennedy—who spoke about the nuances of opening up your own practice. I managed to secure my copy early on. (Unfortunately, we ran out of books so there was a sort of guessing game to determine which bags had the coveted book, and which bags left something to be desired).
Now, if I tell you that I am a serial book-starter, rather than book reader, you may not believe me, but I cannot count the number of interesting—even fascinating books that I have begun, only to be captivated by the next, before I even reached chapter 5. I guess I treat my books like I treat my men—try them out, then save them for later! Well, I picked up this book and could not put it down. That didn’t end up being too much of a problem, because it was the weekend and I could afford the extra hours of leisure reading.
The reason that Mrs. Kennedy’s book Friends and Lovers in Black and White snuggled its way into my bed, onto my bookshelf, and now onto my blog is worth exploring. It is a coming of age novel, for a generation of women—both black and white—who went to college in the 1960s, during a historical period where our country was divided over race and the Vietnam War. Yet, the three protagonists experience unity, friendship, love, and success, in a boundless and timeless way. They lived a generation ago, and yet I found that much of the storyline resonated with me.
Leslie Cohen, the blond-haired, wealthy, Jewish country-club darling from Scarsdale, New York, stands tall as the epitome of the Goucher College woman and perhaps the all-American—
beautiful, intelligent, and well-liked by males and females alike. (I definitely knew girls like that growing up, whom I envied from afar). Paige Wyatt is the quintessential tie-die wearing bra-less hippie, who rejects her “old money” heritage from Greenwich Conneticut, and has worked relentlessly to cultivate her own rebellious identity as distinguished from her family and particularly her father. And finally, Jennifer Madison is the middle class black “sista” hailing from Detroit with a brazen tongue and a cautious curiosity, who has embarked upon a journey into the Goucher abyss, as one of only eight other black girls who has dared to participate in the integration revolution.
For Jennifer, race is always salient. And her racial consciousness is continuously juxtaposed with the oblivion and naiveté of her best friend and roommate Leslie, though she is certainly open and in fact eager to learn. Paige, on the other hand represents a very different sort of white person—the kind who is fascinated by the fight for justice, but has only witnessed struggle from above—perched atop a place of comfort and privilege.
The story centers on the various men (and women) which the characters engage with on romantic levels, beginning in college and spanning through their early professional careers. And, in Leslie’s search for passion and commitment, Paige’s quest for stability, and Jennifer’s journey for the successful BMIS (an acronym which stands for Black man in a suit), they meet disappointment, pain, and finally reach a point of satisfaction which could only have come from the wisdom of time and support from their friends and family.
This book is incredibly timely. Fast-forward forty years and here we are, in a post-integration society, living in black and white. Now, however, it is most often by choice, rather than through any sort of de jure segregation (although the institutionalized patterns of residential segregation, often lead to educational segregation in public schools and financial constraints further crystallize this trend into higher education and beyond—I hear another blog calling!!). For me, I have all too frequently been the token, just as Jennifer was, beginning in elementary school and continuing through college. Attending law school this fall will not likely prove any different. At the same time, most of my social outlets have been overwhelmingly negro-ish, (shout out to the 2010 Census!) in particular Church, the extra-curricular and professional organizations that I participate in, the parties that I frequent, my friend circles, and most notably my boyfriends.
No one is knocking the beauty and power behind the black community, and the kindred spirit, which emanates from a room full of those with common shared experiences. But if I take one thing from Mrs. Kennedy’s book, it is to remain open to a diversity of experiences, regardless of what society is “ready to accept.” The ideal BMIS might garner societal affirmation and all of the approving nods of the Church women, but at what cost? Fidelity? Commitment? Passion?
It very well may have taken a lesson from the past to propel me into the future, in terms of my relationships. Black and white is a thing of the past; we are in an age of shades of gray, and I for one won’t be left behind as an unfortunate relic of the good ole’ times, gathering dust. Who’s with me?
Thanks to Mrs. Kennedy for her gem of timeless wisdom. I will apply.
