Mental Health: Turtles All The Way Down

On Friday, October 20th, I had the pleasure of attending a book reading by John Green, as part of his press tour for Turtles All the Way Down. It was not a typical book signing--in addition to reading passages, his brother Hank performed several songs (he sings about science! and the certainty of death!) and they did a Q & A bit together that was really fun. I was not the youngest, nor oldest, nor nerdiest of the audience members, but the beauty of this crowd was that everyone belonged.

Included in the ticket price was a copy of Turtles All the Way Down,  which I read very quickly in the following days. The narrator is a teenager named Aza who suffers from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Most of us know what this is--people wash their hands and check the stove a billion times before they leave the house, right? Not so much. Green shows us the reality of OCD in a way that is eye-opening and, at times, upsetting. As I learned at the event, Green also suffers from OCD and therefore seems to be a pretty good source on the subject.

Aza's obsession revolves around a fear of contracting a serious but very rare disease call C.diff. She compulsively reads the Wikipedia page about it (linked above) and sanitizes her hand constantly, which escalates to the point that she actually starts drinking hand sanitizer to kill bacteria in her mouth. She describes her illness as "a brain fire. Like a rodent gnawing at you from the inside. A knife in your gut. A spiral. Whirlpool. Black hole. [...] Maybe we invented metaphor as a response to pain. Maybe we needed to give shape to the opaque, deep-down pain that evades both sense and senses" (231).

Her obsessive thoughts make her feel like she is not her own person, that she has no agency in her own life. It makes it difficult for her to maintain friendships or have a boyfriend. Despite her despair, Aza has a dry sense of humor about it: "I could never become a functioning grown-up like this; it was inconceivable that I'd ever have a career. In job interviews they'd ask me, What's your greatest weakness? and I'd explain that I'll probably spend a good portion of the workday terrorized by thoughts I'm forced to think, possessed by a nameless and formless demon, so if that's going to be an issue, you might not want to hire me" (227). Her nonchalance is humorous, but the sentiment behind it is tragic.

In my ten years as a teacher, I have seen a sharp rise of students suffering from mental illnesses--specifically anxiety disorders. Whether this rise is real, or only perceived because we understand and recognize it more, is up for debate. But it is a serious issue that educators and parents are facing.

My first roommate in college had bi-polar depression, which she was not treating at the time, and I remember getting so angry with her because I didn't understand why she couldn't just pull herself together. Most days, she literally couldn't get out a bed...but when she did, she was vibrant, chipper, and so fun. It was a difficult thing to wrestle with as an 18-year-old who had never really heard about any mental illnesses before.

While mental illness is still stigmatized, it is getting a lot more attention now than it was twenty years ago. My school district provides periodic training on how to support students suffering from anxiety and depression; OCD is rarer, and I suppose that's one reason we don't hear about it as much. As far as I know, I've never had a student who suffered from it. After reading this book, I do feel much more informed and sensitive though. I realize how common it has become to use the disorder hyperbolically, as in "I'm so OCD about cleaning my bathroom" or something like that. I'll certainly never say that again, because I realize now what a devastating illness it can be.

During the book reading, Green emphasized that, in the midst of a mental health crisis, it can seem like you'll never find the right treatment, the right medication, the right therapist--but most people can get better. I got the impression that it has been five years since his last book because he has been fighting for his own health, but he seems well now and this book is a masterpiece--better, I think, than A Fault in Our Stars.

I will end this post with one final quote: "If you need mental health services in the United States, please call the SAMHSA treatment referral helpline: 1-877-SAMHSA7. It can be a long and difficult road, but mental illness is treatable. There is hope, even when your brain tells you there isn't" (288).

Police Brutality: The Hate U Give

27 September 2017

I finished The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas about a week ago, but I can't get it out of my mind. The events of the novel and the events of the world around me collided in a magical but brutal way, and it influenced me in a pretty drastic way.

This book is one of many YA novels that have recently been published, or soon will be, on the topic of police brutality. Thomas was moved to write it after the death of Michael Ferguson three years ago, and as I finished the last pages, St. Louis erupted in more massive protests over the shooting of a black man by a white police officer.

The story is told from the perspective of Starr, a black teenager living in a poor neighborhood. Her father is a former gangster turned convenience store owner; her mother is a nurse who drives Starr and her brother 45 minutes each way to a fancy private school so that they can pursue their dreams and find a safe, happy life far away from the poverty and violence they grew up around.

Starr finds herself at a party one night and reunites with a childhood friend, Khalil. They leave the party together, get pulled over, and Khalil is shot by the police officer. He is unarmed.

The reader is taken through Starr's trauma as a witness and the aftermath of Khalil's death--the grand jury trial, the press, the protests. Starr emerges strong, powerful, and determined to fight for justice for her community.

One detail that really struck me was that Khalil was a drug dealer. He wasn't dealing, or even carrying drugs, on the night he was killed. But in the aftermath, the media focused on that detail, as if it was enough to justify his death. When some friends at school ask Starr if she knew the "drug dealer" in the news, she thinks, "The drug dealer. That's how they see him. It doesn't matter that he's suspected of doing it. 'Drug dealer' is louder than 'suspected' ever will be" (113). 

Thomas included this detail, no doubt, because things like it are used all the time to "convict" the dead for their own murders. Regarding the Jason Stockley verdict, many people will be quick to point out that Anthony Lamar Smith was a heroin dealer. Perhaps if I hadn't read this book, I would be one of them. But to Starr's point, it shouldn't matter. I have had students in the past who were drug dealers, car thieves, vandals. They're all white, and they're all alive today, because none of them deserved to die for their crimes. I wish we as a society had the same reverence for black and brown lives.

One of the most moving moments of the novel for me was when Starr's father is roughed up by police outside their convenience store. Starr and her brothers watch, terrified that he will meet the same fate as Khalil, and shocked to see their strong father in such a vulnerable position. Later, she sees him break down for the first time and tells us, "Daddy once told me there's a rage passed down to every black man from his ancestors, born the moment they couldn't stop the slave masters from hurting their families. Daddy also said there's nothing more dangerous than when this rage is activated" (196). The rage is certainly activated, and the neighborhood erupts into violent protest after Khalil's killer is exonerated.

After the first weekend of protests following the Stockley verdict, I was nervous to return to my classroom on Monday. Should I say anything? What should I say? I work in a very-white, mostly-conservative district. How could I talk to my students in a respectful, reasoned, but also "woke" way?

I eventually asked myself--What Would a Librarian Do? With that question in mind, I went to the school library first thing in the morning and found four additional novels on race and police brutality. For each class, I began by saying, "You may feel empathy and understanding for the protesters. You may wish you could join them. You may be wondering, what's the big deal? Why are they so angry? Or you may be unsure. No matter where you fall, these books can give you a glimpse into the mind of someone who has lived through this experience. Reading novels allow you to be someone else for a little while. Even if it doesn't change your mind, it might deepen your understanding, help you see the common ground that might exist."

I then did book talks on each one, lingering the longest on The Hate U Give, and ending with, "These will be in my class library for the next month or so. If you want to read them during our independent reading time, you can. If not, then don't. It's your choice."

A few students read the books I suggested during our independent reading time. One student's mother called and thanked me for addressing the issue. I'm sure others were silently grateful to know that I am an ally. It would be naive to think that anything I say could change the hearts and minds of all my students, and really that's not my job. My job, I believe, is to encourage them to think for themselves and expose them to literature that helps them think in new ways about new topics. And I'm pretty confident I accomplished at least that much.