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A review by colin_cox
When I Was White: A Memoir by Sarah Valentine
4.0
One of the questions I am left asking after reading Sarah Valentine's memoir, When I Was White, is this: what does it mean for someone to pass accidentally? Is accidental passing even possible? Must one possess some degree of awareness of what one is doing, to pass? If what Valentine experienced (believing she was white and not biracial for most of her life) is not passing, then what is it?
Valentine leaves this question unanswered, gravitating toward ambiguity over transparency. This is not to suggest that When I Was White is an inscrutable book. On the contrary, Valentine's more significant point is that racial identity and biological history are, to some degree, impossible questions to answer even as race "clings to people of color like a magnet to iron" (163).
Throughout When I Was White, Valentine makes what would otherwise be impenetrable academic concepts clear, readable, and understandable. This is undoubtedly one of my favorite aspects of When I Was White. Because Valentine attempts to understand complex ideas and terms, she pushes the memoir into interesting and unexpected territory.
Valentine leaves this question unanswered, gravitating toward ambiguity over transparency. This is not to suggest that When I Was White is an inscrutable book. On the contrary, Valentine's more significant point is that racial identity and biological history are, to some degree, impossible questions to answer even as race "clings to people of color like a magnet to iron" (163).
Throughout When I Was White, Valentine makes what would otherwise be impenetrable academic concepts clear, readable, and understandable. This is undoubtedly one of my favorite aspects of When I Was White. Because Valentine attempts to understand complex ideas and terms, she pushes the memoir into interesting and unexpected territory.