Rebecca, Not Becky by Christine Platt (The Afrominimalist's Guide to Living with Less) and documentary filmmaker Catherine Wigginton Greene (I'm Not Racist... Am I?) is a hugely enjoyable novel that nonetheless takes a hard look at prejudice and performative allyship in an affluent Northern Virginia community, alternating between the perspectives of a white woman and a Black woman reconsidering their biases and privilege.
De'Andrea Whitman reluctantly gave up her law career and Atlanta support system to move to Rolling Hills. It's the best place for the family, given her husband Malik's new job and the proximity to his mother's top-notch dementia care facility, Memory Village. However, she is painfully aware that their daughter, Nina, may be the only Black student at the private school. Marijuana (vaping or edibles) is De'Andrea's usual coping mechanism, but her therapist, Dr. Jones, challenges her to try to make one white friend instead.
Rebecca Myland shed the nickname "Becky" when it became cultural shorthand for clueless white ladies. She desperately wants to do the right thing: make the perfect home for her husband, Todd, and daughters Lyla and Isabella; use a reminder app to complete her lengthy daily to-do lists; and be a model white ally, leading the school's diversity committee and antiracist book club.
These two protagonists have more in common than they realize. Upper-middle-class and in their early 40s, they share a love of yoga and wine, and have struggled with infertility and body issues. Their daughters, Nina and Isabella, who happen to dress identically on the first day of school, are soon inseparable. And Todd's mother is also a Memory Village resident; concern over the decline in their mothers-in-law links the women. But when the diversity committee's controversial pet project--getting a statue of a Confederate general removed from the local park--makes national news, the resulting ruckus threatens their fragile friendship.
Platt and Greene go beyond stereotypes to consider the nuances of the situation. Through Rebecca and her friends, the authors show how good intentions are not always enough. There are explanations for the characters' behavior: De'Andrea has been burned in cross-cultural relationships before, and Rebecca has failed to stand up for a Black friend in the past. For both characters, this is a second chance to trust, and to speak out about their convictions. Despite the serious issues it tackles, this is a fun read, reminiscent of Terry McMillan and Curtis Sittenfeld. --Rebecca Foster, freelance reviewer, proofreader and blogger at Bookish Beck
Shelf Talker: Two women--one white and one Black--navigate the nuances of racism in their Northern Virginia community in this addictively readable collaborative novel.