“I asked another friend what it's like being the mother of a black son. "The condition of black life is one of mourning," she said bluntly. For her, mourning lived in real time inside her and her son's reality. At… — Claudia Rankine Copy Share Image
For me her image, the triptych, became a study of the weight the black male figure carries, given the fact that they are targeted by the police, and are constantly in danger of being misread in public spaces. — Claudia Rankine Copy Share Image
I don't know about forgiving, but it's an "I'm still here." And it's not just because I have nowhere else to go. It's because… — Claudia Rankine Copy Share Image
So you're just moving along and suddenly you get this moment that breaks your ability to continue, and yet you continue. I wanted those… — Claudia Rankine Copy Share Image
“because white men can't police their imagination black people are dying” — Claudia Rankine Copy Share Image
Whereas if you were writing an op-ed piece or an essay, somebody would be asking, "What's your point?" With poetry you can stay in… — Claudia Rankine Copy Share Image
Because white men can’t police their imaginations, black men are dying. — Claudia Rankine Copy Share Image
I asked a lot of friends and people I'd meet, "Can you tell me a story of a micro-aggression that happened to you in… — Claudia Rankine Copy Share Image
“The past is a life sentence, a blunt instrument aimed at tomorrow.” — Claudia Rankine Copy Share Image
The subject who speaks is situated in relation to the other. This privilege of the other ceases to be incomprehensible once we admit that… — Claudia Rankine Copy Share Image
Where is the safest place when that place / must be someplace other than in the body? — Claudia Rankine Copy Share Image
