Shonda Buchanan’s memoir about family and ethnic identity, Black Indian, is an upsetting account that still reads like fiction, where a beautiful turn of phase or insightful characterization brings a family accounting to life.

The book uses individual relatives and family lore to tell her story of mixed-race ancestry.  Buchanan tells the stories of mixed relatives, too dark to pass for white, too light to be black, but not documented Native enough for tribal identity and without a cultural African identity. For many generations, mixed children existed but official documentation required a race, and just one race. Buchanan looks at ancestors who were free people of color, who were Native American, and who were able to live in Free People colonies and Native reservations. She also looks at relatives who weren’t “enough” to be welcomed in either identity, and who definitely weren’t welcomed in white American society. (Unless that fair-skinned relative decides to “pass” and cuts off all contact with their relatives.) There is a large cast of characters, which can be a bit confusing at times, but it serves to show not only the interconnectedness of family, but the shades of identity contained here. It also invites the reader to think about genetic connections, and how our families of origin shape our lives.

Many of us have experienced this mixed (and sometimes confusing and excluding) ancestry. We may be ethnic enough for “jokes” or rude questions about our appearance, but only speak English, for example. So this felt very familiar and accessible to me, and probably to many other readers. But the discrimination and systemic poverty was unfamiliar, and Buchanan’s individual accounts represent wider issues.

The focus, though, is on finding one’s path and speaking one’s truth. There is a scene early on about a young girl deciding she hated school and would no longer attend,  and as a teacher it made me feel so upset. This is a minor bit of backstory, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Why did she hate school so much? Didn’t any parents notice and care?  What did the teacher think about the little truant? Why wasn’t she led to education by caring adults? And then, is there any way to counteract the disadvantages from a lack of education? Early and accessible education is so key to later success and independence (and to the joys of reading fiction, chronicled pretty much every day here), I was really upset. But this theme of falling through the cracks AND of knowing oneself despite any expectations around, sets the tone for the whole book.

Finally, it’s worth a trigger warning for, uh, everything. Abuse of all kinds, rape, violence, poverty, child neglect, and basically anything that might be painful to read plays a role in family stories. The author’s poetic word choice can often find beauty anyway, but remembering that this is nonfiction makes these scenes particularly upsetting.