In Between the World and Me, Ta-Nehisi Coates often refers to himself and other black people as bodies. The central fear of blacks in America, he writes, is and has been that their bodies will be destroyed. The fear pervades the bravado of black youth as well as the steely hope of the elders. Instead of using an I or we or you, Coates writes such sentences as “Sell cigarettes without the proper authority and your body can be destroyed. Resent the people trying to entrap your body and it can be destroyed” and “In America, it is traditional to destroy the black body—it is heritage” (103).
In the middle of the book, this theme of the body takes a turn.
I believed, and still do, that our bodies are our selves, that my soul is the voltage conducted through neurons and nerves, and that my spirit is my flesh. (79)
I have no praise anthems [in memory of the deaths of slaves], nor old Negro spirituals. The spirit and soul are the body and brain, which are destructible—that is precisely why they are so precious. And the soul did not escape. The spirit did not steal away on gospel wings. The soul was the body that fed the tobacco, and the spirit was the blood that watered the cotton. (103)
For Coates, soul and spirit exist as mortal, not immortal, human attributes, present in us when we live and gone when we die.
Coates surprised me when he argued for the thoroughly bodily nature of spirit and soul. I think of my own blog here as a history of bodies and a non-theistic view of spirit. But I have had the luxury of holding that view without feeling that the threat of bodily destruction by other people hangs over me and all those close to me at all times. Coates puts aside the immaterial and the supernatural despite believing that the bodies he cares about are never safe from violence. I’ve never been put to that test.
Coates is not fully comfortable with his secularism, however. He writes to his son, to whom the book is addressed, that he, Coates, worries about having missed something by rejecting religion.
I thought of my own distance from an institution that has so often been the only support for our people. I often wonder if in that distance I’ve missed something, some notions of cosmic hope, some wisdom beyond my mean physical perception of the world, something beyond the body, that I might have transmitted to you. (139)
Perhaps what he might have “missed” here, something beyond the body but less than the supernatural, is the experience of feeling an integral part of the church he has kept his distance from. Even for a person skeptical about god, the sharing and bonding among church members as a group of humans over time can impart a strength and well-being in and of itself. Other prolonged collective efforts can have similar effects, including political activism. Coates writes to his son that his life has essentially been happy, “that I drew great joy from the study, from the struggle toward which I now urge you” (115). The joy of the struggle may be small consolation for pillaged bodies, but for this writer of racial tragedy, it seems to have been worth a great deal.