The Hate U Give

Introduction

The Hate U Give has garnered critical acclaim as a poignant coming-of-age narrative set against the backdrop of racial tensions and police brutality. The story unfolds around 16-year-old Starr Carter, who grapples with the dichotomy of her existence in a impoverished Black neighborhood and a privileged white prep school. Starr's delicate balance between these two worlds shatters when she witnesses the tragic shooting of her childhood friend, Khalil, by a police officer.

Some stories remain hidden in the shadows, while others are told too frequently. In her inaugural novel, The Hate U Give, Angie Thomas skillfully weaves together both the unheard and overly familiar narratives. When unarmed young Black men fall victim to police violence, the focus often fixates on their perceived shortcomings. Media cycles revolve around questions of what they did wrong and what they failed to do right.

This narrative is all too familiar, echoed in Khalil's shooting during a routine traffic stop. However, Thomas also brings to light a less frequently heard story—the tale of a community mourning Khalil not because he was flawless, but because he simply lived. He had family, friends, aspirations, fears, and ideas.

In masterfully intertwining these threads, Thomas not only crafts a captivating and intricate story but also holds up a mirror to the ethical and political shortcomings of a society that neglects to recognize and value the lives of individuals like Khalil.

Chapter 1: Garden Heights

At the age of 12, Starr received a no-nonsense lesson from her parents, who were straightforward about the facts of life. Her mom, a nurse unafraid of candor, skipped the euphemisms and imparted practical knowledge about anatomy and maturity. Starr learned the ins and outs of what goes where, and more importantly, what should remain untouched until adulthood.

However, that wasn't the only crucial conversation. There was another talk—more somber and pertinent to her reality as a Black individual in a neighborhood frequently under police scrutiny. Momma, a nurse known for her directness, believed Starr wasn't ready. Daddy, however, insisted. He argued that Starr wasn't too young to face potential arrest or gunfire, making it essential for her to be informed.

The instructions were clear: keep your hands visible, avoid sudden movements, scrutinize the cop's face, and, if possible, remember the badge number. Silence was golden, even for Daddy, who was known for his outspoken nature. If he emphasized the need for quiet, it meant serious business.

Garden Heights, their neighborhood, was a place where police stops were commonplace, a territory viewed by law enforcement as hostile. Like reporters covering its troubles, they saw only problems—a ghetto rife with drug addicts, gang members flaunting signs, and lifeless bodies on the sidewalks covered in white sheets.

Yet, there was an unseen side that escaped the notice of both cops and reporters. The skilled Mr. Lewis, the neighborhood's pot-bellied barber. Mrs. Rooks and her renowned red velvet cakes. Sunday barbecues, the church, Momma's clinic, and Daddy's grocery store.

Daddy had acquired the grocery store when Starr was nine, a chance given by Mr. Wyatt, the retired owner who was the only one willing to hire him after his release from prison. Daddy became a fixture in the community, and if people knew Starr, it was as his daughter—the girl who helped pack groceries on weekends and attended the prestigious Williamson school across town.

Starr found herself at Williamson due to circumstances mirroring Will's relocation to his bougie school in "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air," her all-time favorite TV show. Trouble stirred in the neighborhood when she was ten, leading to a tragic incident that claimed her friend Natasha's life. Bullets, as Momma noted, didn't discriminate. Fearing for their children's safety and lacking affluent connections in Los Angeles, Starr's parents opted for a solution: sending them to a prep school catering to the suburban lifestyle of white families, where streets were for playing and doors remained unlocked.

Momma and Daddy's disagreements persisted, revolving around Garden Heights. Momma yearned for a safer environment, while Daddy aspired to emulate his Black Panther heroes by raising awareness in the ghetto. He rejected the idea of moving to a white suburb, envisioning instead the creation of a thriving Black neighborhood where kids freely played in the streets and doors stayed unlocked.

Chapter 2: Khalil

Fast-forward six years, and Starr finds herself at a Garden Heights party with her friend Kenya. It's her inaugural party experience, and she feels like a fish out of water. Kenya playfully teases her about spending too much time with the bougie white kids. When left alone, Starr attempts to appear nonchalant, burying her awkwardness by pretending to be engrossed in her phone.

In Garden Heights, she feels invisible, a consequence of being a latchkey kid attending school across town and being seen only as the girl packing groceries at the store. Williamson, however, presents a different dynamic. Being Black in an almost all-white school automatically makes her cool. She reflects on the ironic reality with white kids—being Black is celebrated until it becomes challenging. Yet, fitting in at Williamson is no walk in the park either. Williamson Starr consciously switches her demeanor, avoiding slang and behaviors associated with a stereotypical image. She strives to prevent anyone from labeling her as "ghetto."

Still engrossed in her phone facade, Starr is interrupted by Khalil tapping her on the shoulder. There was a time when she felt at home in Garden Heights, and Khalil was an integral part of that time. They grew up together, supported by Khalil's grandmother when Starr's parents were occupied. However, Natasha's tragic death altered the dynamic. Khalil, unable to be cared for by his aging grandmother, returned to his drug-addicted mother and had to fend for himself and his brothers. After working briefly at Daddy's store, Khalil disappeared from Starr's life.

Though Khalil still possesses the same dimples and hazel eyes, he exudes a different vibe. It's not just the expensive attire and accessories; he seems at ease in a room filled with both aspiring and real gangsters. Starr questions him about his current pursuits, but Khalil evades the inquiry.

Suddenly, a gunshot rings out, triggering chaos. Khalil takes charge, grabbing Starr and leading her to his car. They speed away, leaving the tumult behind. In the car, conversation flows more freely, and Khalil reveals his depth by dissecting the lyrics of a Tupac song. Starr, inquiring about his livelihood, gets elusive responses. Khalil shares his struggle with choosing between food and bills each month.

Their conversation takes a nostalgic turn to childhood and Natasha when the unmistakable sound of a police car siren interrupts. Daddy's words about dealing with the police echo in Starr's mind as Khalil stops the car. The cop approaches, and Starr anxiously wonders if someone had the talk with Khalil. The cop, agitated, orders Khalil out of the car, frisks him, and then instructs him to stay put.

Tragically, the situation takes a horrifying turn. Gunshots ring out—bang, bang, bang. Blood splatters across the windshield, and Khalil slumps to the floor. Starr cradles him as the cop's gun is now pointed at her. The grim tableau remains until more police cars and an ambulance arrive. Despite their efforts, it's too late—Khalil is dead.

Angie Thomas's novel weaves a rich tapestry of empathy for adolescents navigating the complexities of identity. The universal struggle of growing up is compounded for Black adolescents, hindered by a society that refuses to let them discover themselves in peace. Racism becomes a formidable obstacle, thwarting their development and simplifying their identity into a singular point—their Blackness.

Starr becomes a casualty in America's crossfire, both literally and figuratively. The violence she experiences robs her of childhood friends and forces her to confront her identity on society's terms. The novel exposes an America unwilling to allow its Black children the freedom to explore their identities without the impediment of racism.

Chapter 3: Who Matters?

Angie Thomas embarked on crafting her novel in 2012, inspired by a police shooting in California that bore striking similarities to Khalil's story—Black victim, unarmed; white officer. The aftermath of such incidents fascinated Thomas: whose narratives take precedence? What details are emphasized or omitted? Who benefits from contextualization, and who suffers from its absence?

The media, functioning as a distinct character in The Hate U Give, wields considerable influence and consistently challenges Starr's voice. In the aftermath of the shooting, reporters rebrand Khalil as Khalil Harris, Suspected Drug Dealer. His death becomes secondary, overshadowed by discussions of his alleged criminal connections. Family and friends, instead of being given a platform, are denied a fair hearing. Officer One-Fifteen's father, on the other hand, is invited to TV shows to discuss his son's ordeal, using the opportunity to claim that Khalil posed a threat and instilled fear in his son.

These media narratives compound Starr's trauma. At Williamson, her peers discuss the incident as the cops shooting a drug dealer, amplifying the allegation as fact. The fear of being associated with Khalil haunts Starr, as she anticipates being labeled a "ghetto girl" by her friends.

The media's framing aligns with the police's narrative. During Starr's police interview, questions veer toward gangs and drug deals, seemingly unrelated to Khalil's death. Starr challenges this, asserting that Khalil did nothing wrong, and Officer One-Fifteen shot him in the back. She questions the necessity of a bigger picture when the essential details are clear.

The aftermath of deaths like Khalil's prompts profound political and ethical considerations. Judith Butler's concept of "grievability" offers insight, asserting that a life must be recognized and valued to be publicly mourned. Social norms and structures, however, render some lives less grievable, particularly those dehumanized, denied rights, and subjected to normalized violence. These lives, deemed "ungrievable," go unmourned because their worth wasn't acknowledged in the first place.

As Thomas concluded her novel, a burgeoning political movement, emphasizing the value and recognition of Black lives in America, emerged. The movement asserted unequivocally that Black Lives Matter, regardless of socioeconomic status or involvement in drug-related activities. The Hate U Give becomes, in part, Starr's journey toward political and ethical consciousness. Her realization of the pivotal question—whose lives matter and who is deemed grievable—stands as a crucial moment in the novel.

Chapter 4: Thug Life

Tupac Shakur famously dubbed his group Thug Life, a term that, at first glance, seemed to endorse a violent, do-or-die gangsta outlaw lifestyle. However, Khalil, the night before his tragic death, enlightened Starr about the true meaning. Thug Life, he explained, was an acronym representing "The Hate U Give Little Infants Fucks Everybody."

Weeks later, amidst the acrid smoke lingering over Garden Heights from protests and riots following Khalil's funeral, Starr hears Tupac again. Seated in Daddy's car, they share a moment of connection through the lyrics. Starr, previously dismissive of the Tupac hype, now realizes the depth of his messages. Daddy, joining in with his questionable rapping skills, echoes Khalil's serious sentiments about Thug Life. It's more than materialism; Tupac delved into real issues.

Starr surprises her father by revealing her awareness of Thug Life's acronym. When Daddy probes, asking her to explain it, Starr recalls Khalil's words about society's impact on the youth and how it comes back to haunt them. But she believes it's more expansive—it's about Black people, poor people, minorities, everyone at the bottom. Now curious, Daddy seeks Starr's thoughts on the hate that society gives "little infants."

Racism, Starr tentatively suggests, and Daddy agrees but emphasizes it goes beyond that. He prompts Starr to think about Khalil—why he dealt drugs. Starr admits it was due to financial struggles, the perpetual choice between bills and food. Daddy steers the conversation toward the systemic lack of opportunities, where education for a decent job is elusive, making drug dealing appear as a desperate survival strategy. The cycle perpetuates: addicts needing drugs to survive, boys like Khalil thinking they must sell drugs to endure. It's a system designed against them—the hate in Thug Life.

Daddy presses further, linking Thug Life to protests and riots. Starr reflects and connects the dots: the outrage over Officer One-Fifteen's lack of charges isn't new. It's a recurring pattern of police impunity. People will keep protesting and rioting until the system stops giving hate. Daddy, with a laugh, acknowledges Starr's insight while cautioning her language.

The theme of anger pervades the narrative. In a poignant scene, the police subject Daddy to humiliating stop-and-search outside his store, an act of pure sadism. The rage emanating from this incident is palpable, but Daddy symbolically contains it within the confines of his office, demonstrating the dangers of unchecked and unchanneled anger.

This aimless rage surfaces in the riots—misery seeking a destructive outlet. In Thomas's narrative, anger, much like misery, finds expression in looting, burning, and destroying. The novel converges on these themes, especially when Starr contemplates Thug Life and comprehends the message Khalil was trying to convey.

Chapter 5: Remembering the Past and Fighting for the Future

Breaking the cycle of hate is a complex challenge, but by the novel's end, Starr discovers an answer: bearing witness and testifying.

In a pivotal moment, Starr faces one of the harshest criticisms from Kenya, a friend who knows she is the anonymous eyewitness to Khalil's death. Kenya accuses Starr of not publicly defending Khalil, a painful truth that resonates deeply. In the novel's concluding section, Starr finds her voice, addressing a grand jury for three hours and later agreeing to a TV interview. She questions the prevailing narrative that justifies Khalil's death due to his involvement with drugs, challenging the notion of a dead person being charged with their own murder.

However, despite her efforts, the jury decides not to indict Officer Brian Cruise Jr., also known as Officer One-Fifteen. Garden Heights erupts in protest, and this time, Starr actively joins the demonstrators. In the penultimate scene, she addresses a crowd, emphasizing that the focus should not solely be on how Khalil died but on the fact that he lived. His life mattered, and Starr insists on vocalizing that truth.

While the visual landscape appears desolate—Garden Heights in ruins with a cloud of acrid smoke—the novel concludes on a note of hope. In Starr's bedroom, she gazes at a Tupac poster with "Thug Life" tattooed across his stomach. Her thoughts reflect on the cyclical nature of hate and its consequences, underscoring the imperative to somehow "unfuck everybody."

Drawing on Judith Butler's concept of grieving as a powerful political act, the novel portrays communities publicly mourning the loss of ungrievable lives, challenging a system that deems them disposable. This disruption prompts a reconsideration of who matters. Starr, stubbornly insisting on grieving a life society failed to recognize and value, ends the story.

In Starr's words, it's not a fairy tale, but she remains hopeful for a better ending. Change, she believes, will come because there will always be someone ready to fight. People are already fighting, even in the challenging environment of the Garden. They are realizing, marching, demanding, and shouting. Importantly, they are not forgetting—the crucial element in this ongoing struggle for justice and equality.

Summary

The dichotomy of Starr Carter's life is stark—juggling between her affluent school and impoverished neighborhood. The delicate balance is shattered when she witnesses the police shooting of her unarmed childhood friend, Khalil, thrusting her into a turbulent struggle. As the sole witness, Starr faces conflicting pressures from her community, urging her to seek justice, and the police, demanding her silence. Against the backdrop of intensifying protests, Starr grapples with the pervasive grip of systemic racism. In this tumultuous journey, she discovers her voice, determined to honor Khalil's memory and passionately champion the cause of Black Lives Matter.

About the author

Angie Thomas hails from Jackson, Mississippi, where she spent her formative years. Her educational journey led her to Belhaven University, where she delved into the realm of creative writing. A notable achievement in her early career was clinching the inaugural Walter Dean Myers Grant in 2015—an esteemed award presented by We Need Diverse Books. The Hate U Give marks her debut novel, showcasing Thomas's remarkable talent and setting the stage for her literary endeavors.