54 pages • 1 hour read
Claudia RankineA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more. For select classroom titles, we also provide Teaching Guides with discussion and quiz questions to prompt student engagement.
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Rankine opens Citizen with a quiet moment describing a “you” lying in bed at night, looking out the window, recalling memories. This guide will refer to the person being described by the second-person address (the “you”) as the subject.
Rankine describes the subject’s experience in Catholic school when they were twelve years old: “You are twelve attending Sts. Philip and James School on White Plains Road and the girl sitting in the seat behind you asks you to lean to the right during exams so she can copy what you have written” (5). The subject is then a young black girl at Catholic school who has an encounter with a white girl. The white girl cheats from the black girl’s schoolwork. The subject recalls these two little girls, thinking with muted sadness about how the little white girl cheated without punishment.
Moving away from the memory of the two girls, Rankine describes a more embodied feeling: “Certain moments send adrenaline to the heart, dry out the tongue, and clog the lungs” (7). The subject takes an inventory of their physical sensations after experiencing a racist encounter. Rankine describes an incident in which a white friend refers to the subject by the wrong name: “Haven’t you said this to a close friend who early in your friendship, when distracted would call you by the name of her black housekeeper? You assumed you two were the only black people in her life” (7). The offense is amplified by the fact that the white woman is a close friend: “Do you feel hurt because it’s the ‘all black people look the same’ moment, or because you are being confused with another after being so close to this other” (7).
The subject is confronted with an “unsettled feeling” when “the wrong words enter your day like a bad egg in your mouth and puke runs down your blouse, a dampness drawing your stomach in toward your rib cage” (8). The “wrong words,” the reader can assume, are racist insults.
The final vignette is a scene which describes a visit to a new therapist who conducts her practice from her home. The subject and the therapist have only ever spoken on the phone at this point, and so the therapist does not know that the subject is black: “At the front door the bell is a small round disc that you press firmly. When the door finally opens, the woman standing there yells at the top of her lungs, Get away from my house! What are you doing in my yard?” (18). The chapter concludes with the therapist apologizing at her overreaction: “I am so sorry, so, so sorry” (18).
In Chapter 2, the writing shifts from poetry to prose, taking on the tone and style of an academic essay. The topic of the essay is Hennessy Youngman, a.k.a. the YouTube vlogger Jayson Musson, whose series “Art Thoughtz” educates viewers on contemporary art issues. Citizen focuses on one particular video of Youngman’s, in which Youngman “addresses how to become a successful black artist, wryly suggesting black people's anger is marketable” (23).
Releasing one’s anger in this way, the narrator of the essay, a likely stand-in for Rankine, is not a genuine feeling:
The commodified anger his video advocates rests lightly on the surface for spectacle’s sake. It can be engaged or played like the race card and is tied solely to the performance of blackness and not to the emotional state of particular individuals in particular situations (23).
Rankine ruminates on “sellable anger,” noting that selling fury comes at a price:
On the bridge between this sellable anger and ‘the artist’ resides, at times, an actual anger. Youngman in his video doesn’t address this type of anger: the anger built up through experience and the quotidian struggle against dehumanization every brown or black person lives simply because of skin color. This other kind of anger in time can prevent, rather than sponsor, the production of anything except loneliness (24).
The essay concludes on a more personal note, shifting back to the second-person: “You begin to think, maybe erroneously, that this other kind of anger is really a type of knowledge: the type that both clarifies and disappoints” (24).
This idea of “insanity” bridges the gap between the Youngman essay and the essay on tennis player Serena Williams that follows. Discussing an incident at the 2009 Women’s U.S. Open semifinal, the essay focuses on the moment when Serena becomes visibly enraged after a referee makes an unfair call: “Serena in HD before your eyes becomes overcome by a rage you recognize and have been taught to hold at a distance for your own good” (25). Rankine, noting Serena’s anger displayed on the screen, thinks that this behavior:
suggests that all injustice she has played through all the years of her illustrious career flashes before her and she decides finally to respond to all of it with a string of invectives. Nothing, not even the repetition of negations (‘no, no, no’) she employed in a similar situation years before as a younger player at the 2004 U.S. Open, prepares you for this (25).
As a black woman athlete in a predominantly white sport, Serena has suffered from racialized slights, insults, and unfairness throughout her entire career. Rankine recognizes that Serena’s outburst is the direct result of years of mistreatment: “Oh my God, she’s gone crazy, you say to no one” (25).
Returning to Youngman’s suggestions on how to be a successful black artist, Rankine concludes by interpreting Caroline Wozniacki’s deplorable actions through that prism: “Be ambiguous, be white” (36). Wozniacki, the reader learns, is a Danish tennis player that ridiculed Serena Williams by padding her own bra and backside with pillows to mock Serena’s voluptuous figure. Again, Youngman’s advice to “be white” increases in relevance:
Wozniacki, it becomes clear, has finally enacted what was desired by many of Serena’s detractors, consciously or unconsciously, the moment the Compton girl first stepped on the court […] At last, in this real, and unreal, moment, we have Wozniacki’s image of smiling blond goodness posing as the best female tennis player of all time (36).
The opening chapters of Citizen establish its format and tone. While Chapter 1 is written in a style akin to poetry, Chapter 2 is written mostly in prose, as a series of essays. Both are written largely in the second-person point-of-view. This style of writing adds urgency and intimacy to the text. Referring to “you,” Rankine appears to refer both to a proxy of herself and to the reader directly. She puts the reader in the shoes of a victim of racism, regardless of the reader’s racial identity. Though at times very specific, the “you” of Citizen may be more than one person; like racism in America, it is a multi-faceted subject and a disorienting force.
Time is also disorienting in Citizen. Rankine slows down time so that the reader experiences the physical experience of a racist moment as it moves through a marginalized person’s body. The reader’s attention is drawn to different bodily systems: “Certain moments send adrenaline to the heart, dry out the tongue, and clog the lungs” (7). In addition, the reader is shuttled back and forth between experiences, showing that racism is pervasive, memorable, and recurring.
Racism is also subtle. The theme of everyday racism and microaggressions are introduced in this section. In a self-declared post-racial society, racist ideology has not been eradicated. Instead, Rankine argues, it has taken on a different, more covert form. She describes an instance in which a friend “tells you his dean is making him hire a person of color when there are so many great writers out there” and she wonders “Why do you feel comfortable saying this to me?” (10). This exchange is a microaggression on multiple levels. The friend’s comment ignores the listener’s identity, implies that being a person of color and being a great writer are mutually exclusive, and doesn’t engage with why the academic department being discussed might be in need of more professors of color. Despite its casual, flippant quality, the comment is charged and loaded with history, yet the white speaker is unaware of its implication, and the black listener is forced to bear discomfort in silence.
Pop culture artifacts of all kinds feature prominently in making Citizen’s argument, helping every reader see the multi-dimensional pervasiveness of racism. For example, in Chapter 2, Rankine draws from sports, literature, and art to characterize the black experience:
Serena and her big sister Venus Williams brought to mind Zora Neale Hurston’s ‘I feel most colored when I am thrown against a sharp white background.’ This appropriated line, stencil on canvas by Glenn Ligon, who used plastic letter stencils, smudging oil sticks, and graphite to transform the words into abstractions, seemed to be ad copy for some aspect of life for all black bodies (25).
Text, film, and visual elements interplay with one another to create a unique, multi-faceted commentary on race.
By Claudia Rankine