RISIKAT ADESAOGUN
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Listen, Risikat! You might learn something.

3/2/2018

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And I do listen. Specifically, to self-narrated memoirs. I jumped into the audiobook world when my work commute grew from a quick 25-minute ride to a nearly hour-long ordeal. Now, instead of grumbling about the glut of Minnesota drivers, the snow, ice, and general misery of commuting, I can laugh and learn my way down the highway. 

Here are some of my recent favorites:
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Around the Way Girl, by Taraji P. Henson

​"I can give you a London accent, I can give you Becky the Valley Girl all day long. I can pull it back and get corporate when I need to, too. But checks are usually attached to that. I have to get paid to be that person. That is not who I am." 

Taraji P. Henson's story begins with her being kidnapped. And that isn't even the craziest, scariest thing she's encountered. I found myself listening to this book in the car, in the grocery store, and even in the shower. I can't wait to see what Henson does next. 



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Year of Yes: How to dance it out, stand in the sun and be your own person, by Shonda Rhimes

“But I only ever write about one thing: being alone. The fear of being alone, the desire to not be alone, the attempts we make to find our person, to keep our person, to convince our person to not leave us alone, the joy of being with our person and thus no longer alone, the devastation of being left alone.” 

Some truths are too hard to bear. But Rhimes makes a case for trying again and saying "YES", even when it's scary.  

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How to Be Black, by Baratunde Thurston

“For example, when the two of you are in the coffee room, she might say to you, “Hey, we should just take all these white people’s shit and burn it.” But then she laughs, and you laugh, and another coworker enters the room, asking, “What’s so funny?” and without missing a beat you both say, “Tina Fey!” 

Black folks have been in the extreme minority at every place I've worked. The emotional labor involved in navigating racial landmines at every turn is both exhausting and infuriating. But there is always someone - a senior leader, a mail room clerk, a bookish scientist - who will make you feel properly human again. Thurston's book honors this fact: there's always someone there. 

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The Last Black Unicorn, by Tiffany Haddish

“So I ended up getting out of pimping, because I didn’t make much money. It’s just not a lucrative business, selling dick. Dick ain’t really all that hard to come by.”

Tiffany Haddish's voice is completely unique. And so is her story. I thought it'd be all laughs but Haddish's life has some truly dark elements. I say this without a touch of irony: I laughed. I cried.  

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The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl, by Issa Rae

“Question: “Is it real?” Thanks to the widespread popularity of hair extensions, this question is no longer asked solely within the black community. Some people are even desensitized to the question. For those who aren’t, the proper response is usually, “Is yours?” with a smile. If that person does not relent, you can try, “It’s as real as you are bold,” with a friendly chuckle. Passive aggression is absolutely appropriate in this instance."

I legitimately paused the audiobook and said, "Did this girl steal my personal journal? Do I need to get lawyers involved?" That's how universal the awkward Black girl experience is. And Issa Rae brings every cringeworthy element to life. 

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Why Not Me, by Mindy Kaling 

“Confidence is just entitlement. Entitlement has gotten a bad rap because it's used almost exclusively for the useless children of the rich... But entitlement in and of itself isn't so bad. Entitlement is simply the belief that you deserve something. Which is great. The hard part is, you'd better make sure you deserve it.” 

Let's say you're in the middle of a Minnesota winter, with months of frigid gray days blending into one another and no chance of sunlight in sight. Just grab Kaling's memoir - you'll feel better in minutes. 
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    ​RISIKAT'S THOUGHTS

    Osseo, Minnesota.
    ​The year is 2005.

    ​My tenth grade English teacher is in front of the class, brandishing a cylinder of grits. She holds the container high above our heads. "This is a food commonly eaten by Southern BLACKS - I mean, African American people," she says, eyes wide with excitement. Like clockwork, every blonde, brunette, and red head turns in my direction to verify. "Is it true?"

    It's true.
    ​I freaking LOVE grits. 

    These are my thoughts. 

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