All in Commentary

The American Dream already eluded millennials of color. Then came coronavirus. [The Washington Post]

I also worry for the well-being of my millennial peers: We pursued higher education as its costs ballooned, and entered the workforce just when the recession hit. What used to be called a “career” has become a string of gigs. When our parents were our age, they owned over 20 percent of the nation’s wealth; today, we have just 3 percent. Now, just as many are starting families, the coronavirus threatens an economic downturn on a scale that this country hasn’t seen since the Great Depression.

But I’m especially worried about a particular slice of my generational cohort: young people of color, who are far more vulnerable than their white peers to crises like the coronavirus.

I Never Thought I’d Have to Fight Infertility and a Pandemic [Zora]

For months, I have felt like my future was uncertain. Panic attacks were routine. Tears, a daily event. Anger, mixed with doubt, fear, and sometimes a little bit of hope, filled my body. I seemed to have no control over the thing I wanted most in the world, and it felt like there was nothing I could do about it. Month after month, my body kept confirming that rejection, and month after month, I cried until my tears ran dry, trying to accept and live with the unknown while accepting the current reality: I may never be able to become pregnant.And then Covid-19 was thrust into the world. By the time the virus hit New York City, those uncontrollable feelings had tripled. The whole world was now in a panic, and the word “uncertainty” became a part of my daily vocabulary and everyone else’s. Life spun out of control, and no one knew what the future held. My problems with trying to create life suddenly felt small as the world’s focus turned to preserving life. Suddenly it seemed like everyone was facing a reality that was out of their control.

The black middle class failed Michael Brown long before a white police officer shot him [Quartz]

In the 12 days since the shooting of Michael Brown, I can’t help but think that I’ve failed him and the many young black men and women like him around the country. In a media culture that often portrays only the grimiest black characters or the ace students, I’ll probably never get to know who Michael Brown really was. I most likely won’t ever understand his complexities, his contradictions, or the myriad things that made him unique—the things that made him human—and some of that is my fault. Sure, I didn’t pull the trigger, but I worry that my lack of understanding—my lack of relationships with black youth, particularly poorer black youth, may have contributed to the disconnect and invisibility that surrounds so many black bodies in America.

It’s time to admit that America will never really include black America [Quartz]

Last week, after watching another black man die at the hands of the New York City police, I can’t help but wonder whether there will ever be true equality for African Americans. The number of African Americans that have been victimized, murdered, terrorized, shot, and left for dead seems not just to be a legacy of some bloodstained Jim Crow past, but a part of a present moment that seems just as bleak. While there has been some progress, the narrative of the black experience in America feels remarkably static, as if it’s just shaken up, flipped, and twisted for a new generation.

It’s making me question whether America is truly the best place for African Americans.

Why Blue Ivy’s Hair Matters [The Atlantic]

There are lots of things that black people in the US should be protesting right now. High unemployment. The extreme loss of wealth. The gutting of the Voting Rights Act. Gun violence. The entire state of Florida. Yet one of the main things to dominate the news lately is the hairstyle of a particularly famous 2-year old. It’s one of the few things I don’t think we need to worry about.

“12 Years” only proves that Hollywood is a slave to business as usual [Quartz]

The Oscar ceremony is always a bittersweet event in my household, and this year was no exception. I like to think of the Academy Awards as a reflection of the beauty of art and a testament to the power of story telling. Yet by the end of the night, I always end the night angry over Hollywood’s challenges in depicting race and ethnicity. This year was no different, though host Ellen DeGeneres beat me to the punch in the first few minutes of the show: If 12 Years a Slave doesn’t win, she said, “you’re all racists.”