Buck: A Memoir Paperback – May 13, 2014

To echo a foundational thought among critical pedagogues from Henry Giroux to Amy Brown (2011) the current, standardized test-crazed culture of the American school system stifles students’ critical thinking and creative dexterity, thus crippling their potential to become transformative agents who critically and consciously strive to make the world a better place for themselves, their community, and their successors. I share the following sentiment with many: the only way to “fix” the current “problem” is to hi-jack the system, or as author MK Ashante would protest: BUCK the system!Asante’s contemporary classic, BUCK, ushers readers through a riveting voyage of an all-too-familiar timeless tale lived by many youth that—despite the public’s pernicious purview of them--desperately grind and hustle (i.e. thrive) within the walls wherein they are oft misunderstood, and as a result: ignored, denigrated, and figuratively, literally dismissed as inadequate and incapable. Before teaching BUCK, peep the two teacher-types I describe below—the traditionalist and the liberator.For the traditional teacher—thinking specifically of my English teachers who take the erradicationalist approach to teaching standardized academic English, the ones who are obsessed with “correctin’” those essays laced with “broken, poor attempts” at articulatin’ standardized English—this route to literacy and learning will take some paradigm shiftin’ (and probably some soul searching). BUCK validates and affirms the power in the native tongue, particularly African American English (AAE). In fact, its language and literary style is deeply rooted in the African-American oral tradition. As the sista scholar, Geneva Smitherman—who ain’t scared to whip out her dual linguistic prowess in her academic publications—would agree: this memoir is filled with delicious metaphors (and stimulating similes), the double and triple entendre, episodic narrative discourse style (thinking specifically of Uzi’s and Scoop’s storytelling style), therapeutic journaling as self-expression and self-healing, rhetorically rich banter among cultural insiders, featuring the traditional starter stem: “Yo mama so…” —which is historically known in the Black community as signifyin’ and “playin’ the dozens” (Smitherman, 1977), but can be translated today as bustin’ or ribbin’ or flamin’ or roastin’ or cappin’ or baggin’ or etc.). Let sista scholar Carol Lee tell it: this Black tradition is a must to teach in all classrooms—I’m just sayin’. Unconventional? Yes, and it makes BUCK a literary masterwork.For the liberator educator who values and constantly strives to validate and affirm the voices and perspectives of the historically marginalized and disenfranchised, BUCK can be used as an entry point to the very issues that unabashedly prove that “Black Lives [do] Matter” (like, fa’real, fa’real)—to expose the harsh realities that have perpetually plagued the Black community since its manifestation in America: the secrecy of mental health, poverty on poverty on mo’ poverty (which has roots it what sista scholar Joy DeGruy posits as Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome, PTSS). There’s an intricate yet beautiful juxtaposition of agony and love manifested in the language of this text, for it also awakens the beauty in the rich, rhythmic, and swagged-out culture that urban youth are immersed in, but aren’t cognizant of—mainly due to the deleterious, deficit discourse that drowns them in society and in school.Inevitably, this poignant piece situates itself within the kind of literary tradition that synonymizes literature and art—a seamless hybridity of prose and poetry: its rich, carefully layered narrative featuring the authentic voice of the adolescent protagonist and the intimate, revealing thoughts of his mother; its themes, motifs (particularly personification: the street as the silently screaming antagonist to which the protagonist refuses to fall victim) all affirm themselves in the aching truth of universal human experiences. What makes BUCK brilliant is the fact that the protagonist uncovers what is great—which is all that is within him: the passion in his soul. It is through native language and transformative literacy (with Afrocentritcity underpinning, of course) that the protagonist ultimately “conquers” the street: by contributing greatly to it in more ways than one.Most importantly, this literary classic is undeniably empowering for students, any and all student whose path it crosses. Thus, this important work unapologetically offers students’ the “right to their own language” (which is an actual published policy, originally written and published in 1974 by the *CCCC but, unfortunately, many teachers don't even know it exists). This book brazenly taps students on the brain and yells: “It’s OK to be the cultural phenoms that we are”: to be young, brilliant, and BUCK—at the same damn time!*Conference on College Composition and CommunicationSide notes:The instructional possibilities!This 1st person perspective, experiential text provides high school teachers with the opportunity to teach the real Black history (in February or whateva, as long as it's not Neverary) and other contemporary Black issues (as well as cultural points to celebrate): the vicious Emmitt Till cycle, Black Panther Legacy, Reaganism, the year of OJ (’95), Ra/colorism, the black shirts and socks of the Fab 5, the significance of the Flu game l, Wanderlust of the Black fam, the Cop Conspiracy (est. KKK/mis-construed social protests of NWA and 'nem), the root trillness of basement RIP tats, white tees and teddy bear and city tree shrines. Etcetera.Multi-modal text pairings—just the tip of the iceberg of opportunities:Paired with a bundle of PBS and ESPN docs; the documentary Hoop Dreams (specifically regarding the nature of boy scouting; the rich/poor school dichotomy); Hughes' Mother and Son; excerpts from Kozol's Shame of a Nation, Alexander's The New Jim Crow and Jackson’s The Pedagogy of Confidence. Etcetera.Real teacher education topics that emerged from BUCK:Culturally and Responsive Pedagogy; aliteracy vs. illiteracy; cultural and linguistic disconnect in the classroom/school; the real reason for the so-called academic achievement gap: opportunity. Etcetera.

To me, all great books have one thing in common: they recreate a time and place and bring it to life for you, even if you live thousands of miles and hundreds of years from that place. Beyond that, the truly great books create a language and feeling of their own. Native Son does that, Leaves of Grass does that, and Buck by MK Asante does that. He writes with the heart-breaking power of Wright and the soaring individuality and hope of Whitman....So much of our culture is based on the music/style/speech of kids who grew up like Asante did, and yet most of them don't make it to adulthood out in the free world. I've spent time teaching in Orleans Parish Prison, I've worked with lifers at Angola, with high school kids in New Orleans who deal with much of the same stuff on a day-to-day basis. It's impossible to imagine the odds against so many of these kids, impossible to fully understand how hard it is to NOT have your life criminalized somehow. I've known two lifers at Angola who told me that, in some perverse way, they were lucky to get locked up (even though both men were likely innocent) because so many of their friends have been killed, at least they're still alive today.... It's impossible for me, who has had only the tiniest glimpse of that world, to understand or convey it. That Asante did make it out and can write like he does is a blessing for all of us, and if you're interested in why our culture is what it is, read this. If you don't care about that but want to read an amazing story, read this.

M K had me at page one. Long ago, when I read this memoir for the first time, I began reading it while riding on a Detroit bus.There is this joke at the beginning of chapter 2 where M K Asante talks with his father about pornography that had me in tears! I laughed so hard that the man next to me on the bus asked me to read my book to him.I read the passage and we laughed together.I truly found myself within the pages of the memoir. His sister and mother along with their battle of mental health, reminded me so much of myself. It frightened me to see myself on the page; but, I continued to read.His father reminded me of my father, except of course, his father is much, much more famous.His brother reminded of a lot of my cousins on the east side of Detroit.His story is my story. His family is my family. He is me?I have been reading M K Asante since he dropped It's Bigger than Hip Hop. I was probably the first person in Michigan to buy the book. I am his biggest cheerleader.I highly recommend everything Asante puts out.My only hope is the Asante has the support that he needs to become the greatest of our generation. I hope that he is able to land the best agent and the best editors for his books, the best producers for his music and the best directors to be mentors as he pursues a career in film.The only reason why I didn't give the book 5 stars is because it could have used a much, much, much stronger editor. The individual passages could have been tied together into a much stronger narrative. "Characters" that were introduced, like his sister and his father could have come to more definitive close (as opposed to disappearing). The letters from the mother could have been tied into the rest of the book a lot better.I loved the writing. I loved Asante's life story... The finished product could have been much stronger with a bit of content editing.No writer can do this thing alone.I'd definitely recommend this book. Especially to young cats in Detroit. Sometimes, you just need something to relate too. Detroit can definitely relate to M. K. Asante's life story.I'm glad I read the book. Can't wait till the next one.