This Is My America(90)

Equality wasn’t realized for those who were freed. In 1896, the US Supreme Court upheld the constitutionality of racial segregation with the Plessy v. Ferguson decision. This “separate but equal” doctrine permitted separate public facilities as long as they were of “equal quality.” It was not until 1954 that the Supreme Court revisited the doctrine. In the landmark case Brown v. Board of Education, the Court found “separate but equal” to be unconstitutional in public schools. Major legislation followed in the next decade: the 1964 Civil Rights Act, the 1965 Voting Rights Act, and the 1968 Fair Housing Act.

Some declared the United States a post-racial society upon the election of Barack Obama, the forty-fourth president. This declaration is refuted by the rise of white supremacists since the election of the forty-fifth president. The stain of racism also rears its ugly head each time a viral video reveals police brutality or racial disparities in arrests and convictions. Worse, Black people are regularly viewed as threats in public establishments throughout the country simply because they are Black. In 2018, two Black café patrons in Philadelphia were arrested while waiting for a white colleague—New York magazine titled its story “Black Loiterers, White Lingerers, and Starbucks.” In Oakland, a white woman called the police because someone was Barbecuing While Black in a public park. In Dallas, a police officer shot an unarmed Black man in his home, where she claimed to have mistaken him for an intruder after erroneously entering his apartment, thinking it was her own.



I share these viral stories as examples because the victims weren’t believed when they told their stories. Our larger society doesn’t accept that the horrors of racism persist until they view bodily trauma on television or, more recently, cell phone or police video of these heinous crimes.

Another authorial decision I made was to adapt the real visitation practices in Texas. To better humanize James Beaumont, I decided to not place him shackled behind a glass wall during interactions with his children and wife. I want readers to know James as his family does and to feel his loving presence without barriers as he interacts with them.

The appeal process for death penalty cases is complex and differs by state. The Court of Criminal Appeals is Texas’s highest state court for criminal cases, consisting of nine justices (including a presiding judge). I provided a simplified version of an expedited appellate process so as not to bog down the story with criminal appeal procedures that are specific to the state of Texas. With this challenge, I chose to depict an appeal proceeding that could include James Beaumont and his family. My ultimate goal was to show elements of an arduous process while also infusing hope and leaving space for the reader to ponder the next chapter for the Beaumont family.



I also wanted to portray the continuing legacy of white supremacy and terror that persists today. During the late 1970s and early 1980s, Vietnamese fishermen clashed with the KKK in Galveston Bay. For years they faced harassment and were forced to defend their livelihood despite intimidation and violence from the Klan. This story informed my selection of the lynching of a non-Black person to further highlight the widespread fear and targeting of the KKK. But we cannot forget that of the almost five thousand lynchings in US history, over 70 percent were of African Americans. I urge you to see the National Memorial for Peace and Justice, located in Montgomery, Alabama. The memorial, which can also be viewed online, is dedicated to the memory of enslaved Black people, people terrorized by lynchings, and African Americans shunned by racial segregation.

Lynchings and capital punishment draw many comparisons as inhumane and unequal treatment largely applied on the basis of race. As of April 1, 2019, there were 2,637 inmates in prison who had been sentenced to death, across thirty-two states. African Americans make up about 13 percent of the US population but are 42 percent of the people on death row. It’s important to acknowledge that, nationally, 95 percent of prosecutors are white, according to a 2014 study by the Reflective Democracy Campaign. This lack of diverse representation leaves more room for implicit (and explicit) bias against defendants of color.

Evidence of disparity is most egregious in the state of Louisiana, where the odds of a death sentence are 97 percent higher in cases where the victim was white. Slavery was abolished, but the economics of the prison-industrial complex serves as an exception. Take, for example, the comments of a Louisiana sheriff, Steve Prator, who in 2017 railed against the move to release prisoners, citing their ability to provide free labor. I hope the reader will ponder the application of the death penalty as it relates to the legacy of slavery.



As I wrote this story, I was cautious not to add any details for voyeuristic purposes while also recognizing the trauma behind real-life incidents. To omit some aspects in this story would be to deny this reality. However, the Black American experience is not a story limited to pain; it is one that is joyous, remarkable, filled with possibility. I also celebrate the amazing voices and stories of other authors who are working to expand representation on stories we have yet to fully tell.

Knowledge (and representation) is power, and I truly believe movements are made by the next generation. The legacy of racism runs deep in our society, but we can stop this cycle if we all are involved. We can let the world know enough is enough. You can make a difference. Your voice matters. Demand justice and equality. I hope I leave my readers with empathy, awareness, and agency.

In solidarity and respect,