06/15/2020

In this slim and witty volume, attorney Smyer (Knucklehead) collects an alphabetized short list of things not to say to African-Americans. Smyer, writing as Daquan, “the black co-worker you are referring to when you claim to have black friends,” wisecracks about the common verbal miscues of whites, whether when complimenting educated blacks on their speech (“This black man talking to me is so articulate!”), talking in Ebonics (“Don’t say, ‘They be like.’ Keep that ‘be’ shit to yourself”), referring to someone as a thug (“Half the people you think are thugs are in high school. Meanwhile, you politely overlook the several overt nazis you pass on the street each day”), or commenting on watermelons (“Just kidding—you can say watermelon”). When conversations turn to immigration and Ellis Island, Smyer notes the irony of slavery: “Getting on the boat was idea.” Each entry is designed to strip away the hypocrisy and half-truths of these cultural exchanges by laughing at them. Smyer’s hilarious sampler offers astute observations on race and culture. (Sept.)

"It reminds me of the dictionary, which is helpful because it is a dictionary in its own category. For its purpose of education and enjoyment, I say it met the mark."

"Using humor, Smyer relays harsh truths about U.S. race relations . . . With a tongue-in-cheek tone, Smyer offers an accessible critique of Whiteness in America . . . Smyer models for us how to use humor and candor to fight back against the microassaults, microinsults, and microinvalidations suffered by marginalized and racialized communities of color."

Critical praise for Knucklehead by Adam Smyer:

Adam Smyer was named the African American Literary Awards Show's Break-Out Author of 2018 for Knucklehead!

"By setting his novel in the '90s, Smyer, who lives in Oakland, has crafted some brutal déjà vu. As Marcus reflects on Rodney King, the Million Man March and the Oklahoma City bombing, we think of Freddie Gray, Black Lives Matter and school shootings that have become a way of life. And when Marcus laments San Francisco's dwindling black population, here we are more than 20 years on, and it's only gotten worse. We should all be furious."
—San Francisco Chronicle

09/01/2020

Lawyer Smyer's (Knucklehead) guidebook for smarter conversations with friends, acquaintances, and coworkers is by turns funny, sarcastic, and possibly true for many Black (and non-Black) Americans. Smyer lists the taboo words and phrases that he argues should not be used by white people in conversation with Black people, all in alphabetical order. For example, the letter "A" is used to explain why people should reconsider using the word ally, and why calling a Black person articulate is not a compliment. Other instances of sometimes well-meaning but often racist phrases and terms include "I'm Not a Racist But," "Funky," "I Don't See Color," and "Ghetto." While there is humor throughout, there is also a strong sense of anger, annoyance, and weariness when it comes to the Black experience in Trump's America. And though Smyer is addressing white people specifically, his humor can be appreciated by anyone who needs a good chuckle (and an education). VERDICT A funny, biting take on U.S. race relations. Smyer will give readers a good laugh in tumultuous times.—Leah Huey, Dekalb P.L., IL

2020-07-14
A slim, sharp, satirical guide to preventing racial microaggressions against Black people at work, written by a fictional Black colleague.

Daquan, “the Black coworker you are referring to when you claim to have Black friends,” has something to say. He can always spot the moment when a White person becomes aware they are interacting with a “full-on BLACK PERSON.” Their eyes “take on a mad gleam,” and both revulsion and attraction play on their faces. They simply cannot help themselves; they must speak about it, abandoning appropriate topics like work, weather, and sports for dicier conversation peppered with African American vernacular. Microaggressions ensue. Fed up, Daquan offers a list of slyly disrespectful comments he would rather “people of pallor” kept to themselves. Organized from A to Z and presented with no filter, entries include “articulate” (not a compliment); “dark” (stop using it as a synonym for bad or evil); “ghetto” (“sits next to ‘urban’ in the dog-whistle drawer”); “hair” (don’t touch it without consent); “quiet” (Black people have a right not to be); “voted for Obama” (“if the last time you respected a Black person was 2012, probably you should keep that to yourself”; “you’re different” (no, but White people often have limited understanding and experience with Blackness); and all manner of subtle discrimination and affronts in between. Smyer delivers the directives with heaping sarcasm, cutting humor, and some web lingo. Best avoided by would-be White allies who demand to be treated gingerly, this book lets loose the frustration of being Black in majority White spaces. Less a guide for White people than a palliative for the daily indignities suffered by real-life Daquans, the book is a balm for tongues bitten and comments swallowed that is guaranteed to leave some Black folks chuckling in recognition while White colleagues cringe in embarrassment.

A bitingly humorous compendium of the absurd subtle racism of the American workplace.