Their Grandfather moved them to a wealthy suburban neighborhood called Woodcrest, which is mostly white and has not seen many black people. Huey Freeman, 10, is named after Huey Newton, a former leader of the black panthers. He is not afraid to address hypocrisy in adults especially when it comes to whites and racism which causes many awkward moments. I must say that my overall impression of the book, was just what I had expected from Aaron McGruder. I had previously heard of then his comics in the back of newspapers, and I had heard the controversy they stirred. Things from gender relations to police brutality has been covered in these pages.

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Twenty years since it started, ten years since it ended and--not much has changed. Twenty years since it started, ten years since it ended and—not much has changed. Yeah, sure, an oppressive regime unlike any previously seen on American soil is about to take power, but the gap between where we were before and where we are now is likely smaller than most think.

As many marginalized people know, we have been on the brink of this for at least the length of my year-lifetime and, more probably, much longer than that. Some of the conversations are dated and highly specific to the times—a sequence about Napster, a running bit about Miss Cleo—but a lot more feels painfully close to the here and now.

Boondocks, November 6, Sometimes, this is amusing. In the strip above, from sixteen years ago, a couple is at war with each other over the choice of a third party vote and here we are again, sixteen years later, attempting to blame the relative handful of people who voted for a third party instead of addressing the millions who went to the polls for a white supremacist and anti-Semite.

Bush , but in , the joke is obviously on us, a population who managed to learn almost nothing sixteen years later. Time has intervened in other ways, though. The heavenly portion is all down to the protagonist, Huey Freeman, who knows my life so well. Boondocks, April 8, Huey is, in all probability, at least a little bit depressed.

And worst of all, he seems to be quietly aware of the utter futility of those emotions. Boondocks, September 29, But I can dig it. I feel like this, often. His presence on the page is validating, emotionally and critically. I am Huey. Huey is me. This is the critically hellish portion, the portion I have casually alluded to so far but not confronted out right—A Right to be Hostile, in , is evidence that all that I would like to say has already been said.

It is maddening, both as a critic and as a human being. If my critical purpose is to See that which is not easily Seen, then what the hell am I doing making the same observations that have already been made by other black people who have suffered some years before me. This is easily Seen.

This is easily witnessed. We have been here before and my revelations are not revelations at all. I am only the latest in a long line of black people trying to argue for my own humanity.

How do we contend with the fact that we are spinning our wheels in perpetuity? What is the point of repeating what my ancestors have already said, only for my descendants to do the same? How do we grapple with the fact that nothing has changed? I have a thought. What if we just….

There is already enough material out there, somewhere in the world, arguing for our humanity. We have spent enough of our time trying to find new ways to convince white people, abled people, non-queer people, cis people, whomever, that our lives have value. Even now, we search for some new way to put it, some new comparison, some new turn of phrase with the hope that maybe this time will suddenly make them understand that our lives matter.

The texts have already been written and the arguments have already been made. Let people see that essentially nothing has changed, that everything we are saying has already been said. Because the onus cannot and should not be upon us to find new songs and dances to entice our oppressors. Or maybe because, in truth: we have already tried everything else.


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A right to be hostile : the boondocks treasury


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