Rebecca, Not Becky: A Novel

Reading this book was a journey that stirred some different emotions for me. I found myself connecting with the struggles and emotions of the Black characters, but attempting to engage with the white characters felt like an uphill battle. Their attempts at being relatable often came off as irritating and excessive. De’Andrea, along with her husband Malik and their daughter Nina, venture away from their familiar, predominantly Black neighborhood in Atlanta to a place that De’Andrea describes as "white chocolate Rolling Hills" in Virginia. This move isn’t merely a change of scenery; it’s a necessary step dictated by the need to find a new home for Malik's mother, who has been relocated to a facility called Memory Village. This place presents itself as a cozy residential area but is, in reality, a medical facility for individuals grappling with dementia and Alzheimer’s, designed to ease the burden of transition and care. The core of the narrative tackles the complex dance of racial differences, but what really captivated me were the intimate glimpses into each family’s dynamics. As De’Andrea and Malik settle into their new life, the tension between them simmers. They frequently butt heads, their frustrations bubbling to the surface amid the chaos of relocation and adjustment. Malik hardly spends time at home, buried in the demands of his job and the pressure of being the sole financial provider since De’Andrea chose to step back from her career as a lawyer to embrace life as a stay-at-home mom. The weight of their circumstances creates a chasm between them; Malik feels De’Andrea is drifting through her role, while De’Andrea's therapist has tasked her with forging at least one friendship in their new, predominantly white community. As the story unfolds, young Nina quickly forms a bond with Isabella, her new classmate. This friendship becomes the catalyst for De’Andrea and Rebecca, Isabella's mother, to interact. Their meetings are filled with awkwardness as Rebecca, who champions her role as the President of the school’s DEI club, attempts to navigate her newfound connection with sincerity. Yet, for every genuine effort she makes at “being woke,” there’s an overwhelming sense of social cluelessness. Her struggles to connect feel frustrating, especially when she expresses a passion for a book club without ever reading the material. The narrative takes a sharp turn when Rebecca witnesses the rawness of her brother-in-law's implicit racial biases during a contentious debate over the removal of a Confederate statue from the community. In a shocking moment, he falsely accuses Malik of assault, and it’s as if Rebecca’s eyes are peeled open for the first time. This experience forces her to confront a reality that many of us endure daily, and I couldn’t help but appreciate her willingness to act rather than remain a passive observer. It’s disheartening to realize that some only grasp the truth of our experiences from a distance, yet I found hope in Rebecca's awakening, as she begins to understand the weight of racial injustice that we so often bear.

No idea how to rate this book or how I feel about it. It definitely got better in the latter half. Rebecca was annoying af