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A review by wolfeyreads
You Should See Me in a Crown by Leah Johnson
3.0
Representation: f/f/sapphic romance, Black mc, sickle cell anemia.
Content warning: panic attacks, anxiety, bullying/homophobia, closeted, past parental death, classism, racism.
“I just want you to know that you can rest, baby.”
I wanted to like this one. I really did. Or rather, I wanted to feel like I usually do when I read something that touches me so tenderly, that I get so invested in the story that I become the characters and understand them completely. I didn’t feel that with this one and that’s okay. There were takeaways though that I did get from it, like the quote above because Black queer girls do, indeed, need to be allowed to rest.
Liz Lightly, a Black, queer girl, plans to leave Campell, Indiana and attend Pennington College to become a doctor, to help patients with sickle cell, like her brother. She decides to run for prom, to help her get a scholarship to afford it. But to run for prom in this conservative small town that aims for everyone to be the same, that means being white, rich, and hetreo.
When I read stories, but especially queer stories, I get frustrated with bullies whose only agenda is to destory the main character, and often, their bullying tatics are pathetic at best. I just want an adult to step in, look at them sadly, shake their head and say, “no. Stop. Seriously.” But of course all the adults, like often in YA books, suck. Because for a lot of young queer kids, that is the reality.
And I know for a lot of Black folks, liking our hair is difficult because of the standard we have been taught to uphold. But it still made me sad how Liz described her hair. Later, instead of keeping it in a bun and “slicked down,” she lets it out, but even then she says it is something that could be “out of hand.” I understand the internalized racism that we have embedded in us, but I do wish this was challenged a bit more in the text.
“Sometimes I worry less but I never stop worrying altogether.”
I did, however, really like the representation of panic attacks and anxiety. As someone who struggles with both, I appreciated that this came from the perspective of not something to be “fixed,” but something that just is and was still taken seriously as something Liz suffered from and still found helpful ways to manage and have support with it. These were the best moments for me.
And I listened to the audiobook, read by Alaska Jackson and really enjoyed Jackson’s energy of all the characters, especially of the grandparents, Ms. Madame Simone, and Stone, bringing more humor in the book.
While this wasn’t one of my favorite books, this is still an important text. Leah Johnson put a microscope on how schools are still very cis, hetero, classist, and racist, finding a way to show that there can be some way to rebel against that and win.
Content warning: panic attacks, anxiety, bullying/homophobia, closeted, past parental death, classism, racism.
“I just want you to know that you can rest, baby.”
I wanted to like this one. I really did. Or rather, I wanted to feel like I usually do when I read something that touches me so tenderly, that I get so invested in the story that I become the characters and understand them completely. I didn’t feel that with this one and that’s okay. There were takeaways though that I did get from it, like the quote above because Black queer girls do, indeed, need to be allowed to rest.
Liz Lightly, a Black, queer girl, plans to leave Campell, Indiana and attend Pennington College to become a doctor, to help patients with sickle cell, like her brother. She decides to run for prom, to help her get a scholarship to afford it. But to run for prom in this conservative small town that aims for everyone to be the same, that means being white, rich, and hetreo.
When I read stories, but especially queer stories, I get frustrated with bullies whose only agenda is to destory the main character, and often, their bullying tatics are pathetic at best. I just want an adult to step in, look at them sadly, shake their head and say, “no. Stop. Seriously.” But of course all the adults, like often in YA books, suck. Because for a lot of young queer kids, that is the reality.
And I know for a lot of Black folks, liking our hair is difficult because of the standard we have been taught to uphold. But it still made me sad how Liz described her hair. Later, instead of keeping it in a bun and “slicked down,” she lets it out, but even then she says it is something that could be “out of hand.” I understand the internalized racism that we have embedded in us, but I do wish this was challenged a bit more in the text.
“Sometimes I worry less but I never stop worrying altogether.”
I did, however, really like the representation of panic attacks and anxiety. As someone who struggles with both, I appreciated that this came from the perspective of not something to be “fixed,” but something that just is and was still taken seriously as something Liz suffered from and still found helpful ways to manage and have support with it. These were the best moments for me.
And I listened to the audiobook, read by Alaska Jackson and really enjoyed Jackson’s energy of all the characters, especially of the grandparents, Ms. Madame Simone, and Stone, bringing more humor in the book.
While this wasn’t one of my favorite books, this is still an important text. Leah Johnson put a microscope on how schools are still very cis, hetero, classist, and racist, finding a way to show that there can be some way to rebel against that and win.