An African American psychiatrist, mother, and Atlantic reader emails a nuanced perspective on the themes of gender and family we’ve discussed thus far:
“The Black Family in the Age of Mass Incarceration” is a beautifully written, timely piece about the tragedy of mass incarceration that is affecting the fabric of our society—and that, as Coates eloquently argues, is steeped in racist fear. He weaves Moynihan into it all, and discusses how this frequently misunderstood figure and his thoughts on family intersected with the plight of black folk over the past half century. This is actually the larger theme. Beyond mass incarceration, Coates’ article is really about an even greater issue; the article might have well been entitled “Why Is the Black Family Suffering Today, and What Can We Do About It?”
I wholeheartedly agree with many of the responses I imagine Coates would give: The black family is suffering because of a legacy of white supremacy. Mass incarceration is a crisis of epic proportions, which is a culmination of centuries of racist policy and has exacerbated the problems of the black family a thousand-fold.
However, as I read Coates closely, a small but important-to-me issue keeps coming up: I’m not sure how important he thinks the black family really is. Black individuals, yes. As an ardent defender of our personhood, our worth, and value, he is a welcome voice. But the black family? I get the sense that Coates may be just a little suspicious of the whole concept of family, or at least the traditionally crafted version. I’d like to argue that he shouldn’t be.