I know that this might sound like a slight-why should I assume that she should be apologetic, and be surprised when she isn’t? But that’s not how I mean it-instead, what I so appreciate is the fact that she isn’t asking anybody to be surprised that she isn’t apologetic. As cliche as it may sound, the word that I have to describe Thick and Tressie McMillan Cottom more broadly is unapologetic. It is so many other things, too, but to me, that’s what the book symbolizes and where it gets its power. Thick and Other Essays is an ode to black women, a call to action, a statement of empowerment, a statement of solidarity. But Cottom’s Thick and Other Essays, to me, felt different, and not only because her essays comprise so many different themes and experiences all relating to black women in the United States. Rebecca Traister’s Good and Mad gave me the history that I so desperately wanted in order to understand my anger-after everything from 2016 to being catcalled walking down the street for what felt like the millionth time. Brittney Cooper’s Eloquent Rage made me feel empowered as a woman of color to express the rage and frustration I have for a system that isn’t built for me, a system of inequities and inequalities that I should be able to question and, when necessary, express rage toward. To be fair, I say this about a lot of essay collections. Tressie McMillan Cottom’s Thick and Other Essays is the essay collection that I didn’t know I needed in my life.
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