A Good Kind of Trouble

“Okay, like if you eat unhealthy food a long time, you’re going to be unhealthy, right? Well, for too long people have been fed a diet about Black folks. About folks with brown skin. Making them think we’re scary. And that’s how the police have been trained to act. It’s going to take a long time to change people’s minds.”

Momma uses this metaphor in response to Shayla asking whether the police hate Black people. By comparing racism to a diet, Momma illustrates racism’s culturally entrenched nature. Similar to how people’s bodies internalize their nourishment, people internalize racist ideologies that nourish fear. It can be difficult to change diets and improve one’s health, just as it can be difficult to change a person’s mind about a long-ingrained belief.

“Hana is wrong about me and my friends. We are the UNITED NATIONS. Even with that trial going on, I still think Hana makes way too big a deal over race. Isabella, Julia, and I know that for us, race doesn’t even matter. And what matters is us; Hana is being ridiculous if she thinks that me and my friends are going to split up.”

Shayla writes this entry in her eyeball journal after Hana both admonishes her for not sitting with the Black kids at lunch and predicts that there will soon be a divide between Shayla and her friends. By capitalizing “UNITED NATIONS,” Shayla emphasizes that she feels as if her group of friends is synonymous with the global organization focused on international peace, but she doesn’t recognize the role race plays in establishing peace. Instead, she states that “race doesn’t even matter.” Shayla is working hard to persuade herself and whomever might read the journal that she doesn’t care about race, though she already feels alienated from her Black peers. Hana’s prediction foreshadows the divide that does eventually occur, and that divide is partially due to race: Julia feels a stronger sense of belonging with her group of Asian American friends, causing a large part of the rift.

“‘Not everything that is faced can be changed,’ Daddy says, and then Hana cuts in and says, ‘But nothing can be changed until it is faced.’”

Hana and Daddy quote James Baldwin, a Black writer and activist from the 1950s and 60s. The quote comes from an essay arguing that Baldwin’s peers must either make sacrifices to change America or “perish” (Baldwin, James. “As Much Truth As One Can Bear.” The New York Times Book Review, The New York Times. New York, 1962 January 14). Baldwin’s assertion parallels the sub-conflict of the novel: police brutality against Black people. People who wish for equal treatment must change their behaviors to enact larger change. Shayla sees that Black people are treated unequally, and she begins expressing her opinion and encouraging others to do the same.

“I mean, I know Black Lives Matter is about reminding people our lives count too, but some people take it wrong and think it means we are saying our lives matter more than theirs. Or that only our lives matter. But Momma explained it to me. She said if you go to the doctor and told him you broke your arm and he said, Well, okay, let’s put you in a full-body cast, you’d say, But, doctor, only my arm is broken. Get it? So yeah, even though all your bones matter, you only need to fix the broken one.”

Momma metaphorically compares the Black Lives Matter movement to a broken arm. It’s not that the whole body doesn’t matter; it’s that the broken part is what needs fixing. Black Lives Matter brings attention to the issue of systemic racism within the justice system that threatens Black lives. Momma’s explanations of these complex issues give Shayla firm ground and the words to defend herself when classmates argue that blue or all lives matter.

“A bunch of kids stand around waiting, and my palms get all itchy because there is a small group of Black kids standing together. Carmetta is one of them. I don’t know if I should go over there. That might sound like I don’t know I’m Black, which isn’t true. But I don’t know how to walk over and act like I belong.”

Throughout the novel, Shayla struggles with her identity and sense of racial belonging. This insecurity makes her hesitant to interact with her Black peers, as shown through her itchy palms. Shayla’s palms itch when she’s worried, and the possibility of failing in an interaction with Carmetta is enough to make Shayla nervous.

“Until Hana said it, I didn’t even think about Jace being a brother.”

Prior to this excerpt from Shayla’s journal, Shayla primarily describes Jace by his green eyes and smile. This omission of race shows her unawareness of racial issues, further evidenced by her naïve disbelief that anyone could find the police officer innocent after seeing the incriminating video. Referring to Jace as a “brother” shows she recognizes the Black community but does not prioritize being a part of it.

“I do not see a bit of frizz anywhere on Isabella’s head. She says her hair is curly, but it’s totally not. What it is, is wavy. My hair is curly. And kinky. And sort of wild. Does Jace like wild or wavy hair? I wrap my hair in a tight knot bun.”

Shayla constantly and self-deprecatingly compares her appearance to Isabella’s. The words Ramée uses in Shayla’s description of her own hair are composed of hard “k” sounds interrupted by a period, blunt and harsh. She chooses “wavy” to associate with Isabella, a word of mostly vowels and soft consonants. This contrasting diction reflects the contrast between Shayla’s and Isabella’s personalities. While Shayla can be terse, Isabella is considerate.

Shayla is unsure of what Jace likes, so she controls what she can—her hair—by wrapping it up tightly. She alters her appearance in the hopes of gaining a boy’s attention rather than for her own sense of individuality or style.

“Isabella says, ‘My mom says women have to speak up for what they want.’ Isabella’s face gets weird after she says that. Like, sad weird. Isabella doesn’t talk a lot about her parents, but I’m pretty sure her mom is the one who wanted to get divorced.”

Isabella’s mother repeatedly reminds Isabella, Julia, and Shayla to be strong and to speak up for themselves; however, Isabella is characterized as quiet and compliant. Like Shayla feels a separation from Hana and her dad when it comes to racial awareness, Isabella feels as if she doesn’t uphold her mother’s values (despite the fact that her mother’s domineering parenting partly engenders Isabella’s timidity). Isabella eventually finds her voice when she works to resolve conflict with Shayla, showing she can speak up for what truly matters to her: her friendships.

“I stare down at my feet. They have totally let me down.”

Shayla struggles with the timing of her hurdles and then waits too long to walk over to Angie and Carmetta as they all wait for their rides after track practice. Shayla personifies her feet by blaming them for her shortcomings; she doesn’t yet grasp her own ability to grow and change, so she feels as if there’s something intrinsically wrong with her that causes her perceived failures in track and socially. She feels separate from her body, as if it acts against her, similar to how she feels separate from others of her race, like Angie and Carmetta. 

“When I get home after school, I ask Hana if it’s cool to wear a costume in junior high, and she says I should if I want to, like that is the important thing.”

Shayla prioritizes popularity over individuality, but Hana is a positive role model, encouraging her to explore what she wants rather than what her peers might demand. At this point, Shayla allows others to drive her desires. She wants others to react to her the same way she reacted to a classmate’s confidence after that classmate got a boyfriend, so she prioritizes making Jace her boyfriend. Like Hana, she wears a costume representing a Black activist from the 1960s—but unlike Hana, Shayla chooses the costume not for its historical significance but because the costume can help cover part of her forehead, completely missing the truly “important thing.”

“‘Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail.’ I think about that for a second. Honestly, if I have a choice, I’d pick not to fail.”

Shayla’s fear of trouble dominates her perspective. Even when faced with an inspirational quote by someone she respects, Shayla disagrees in favor of the easy route—winning without overcoming or “rising up.” This dismissal of a growth mindset demonstrates her immaturity during this scene in the rising action.

“When I get to shop later, I do try and be nice to Tyler, but he’s sort of like a puppy sitting under the dining table. If he gets a tidbit of food, he’s just going to beg constantly.”

Ironically, this quote directly follows Shayla’s obsessing over Jace smiling at her as a lab partner. She clings to any small “tidbit” of attention Jace gives her, just like the begging puppy to which she compares Tyler. By comparing him to a dog, she also shows just how lowly she sees him.

“Running makes everything bubbling around inside twist and turn and spread out behind me like wings. Julia hanging with her other friends trembles at the tips of my wings before twisting away into the wind. The butterflies from Jace’s smile escape from my belly into the air and fly away. Yolanda wanting me to be nice to Tyler scatters and whirls around me like a pile of brown and orange leaves. I don’t worry about anything; I just run.”

Shayla describes her run with language evoking flight and dissipation: Her emotions “spread out behind [her] like wings.” She allows her emotions to power her run but also for her run to disperse them. The images of butterflies and whirling fall leaves recall the wind rushing past her as she runs. Though she joined the track team reluctantly, she now embraces running as a positive outlet.

“You know crushes can be like […] fairy dust. Special and sparkly and sort of magical, but then most times, they sort of blow away. And if you’ve gotten rid of friends just to chase the dust, well then, you don’t have anything.”

Coach West compares a romantic crush to “fairy dust” as she tells Shayla the story of the friend she almost lost over a boy. Her comparison emphasizes the substance and weight of friendships when the potential of romance can so easily be blown away. Shayla considers Coach West’s story in light of her own envy of Isabella, and she realizes that she needs to apologize to her longtime friend for letting a boy get in the way of their friendship.

“That’s when I find out how loud silence can be.”

Shayla thinks this as she marches in the UCLA rally with her family. The paradox of “loud silence” captures the effect of people’s awareness: Even in their silence, the protesters send a clear message against police brutality and in support of the Black community by simply being there, moving together towards a common destination and a common goal.

“We all just stand there for a second. I feel like my friends are waiting to see what I’m going to do. I hate how it feels between us now, like we are china plates trying not to get cracked.”

Shayla uses a simile to compare her friendship with Julia and Isabella to fragile china. The bond between them is now so delicate that she anticipates it breaking with the slightest disturbance. The tension has become significant between the United Nations.

“Angie comes into the lane two over from me to practice hurdling, and I catch her eyes and try and send her a whole lot of words in that one look. How I want to be friends, and it’s a joke to say I think I’m too good when I don’t think I’ve very good at all, and that we are both sisters so we’re connected, and that it was silly for me to act like Tyler and I were talking, but I didn’t mean anything mean by it.”

Shayla shows self-awareness, realizing how others see her and how she wants to be seen. She no longer wants to isolate herself from anyone outside her United Nations friend group, and she shows growth in her goals, shifting from chasing Jace to craving a relationship with another Black girl. Her communication has not grown, though. Ramée’s syntax reflects Shayla’s thinking, repeating “and” to demonstrate just how many things she wants to say but hasn’t. She still hopes Angie will understand her complex thoughts through a quick look as they both practice.

“And protect our daughter, Hana, as she struggles to understand the horrible shootings and this troubling verdict. Keep her on the path of peace and nonviolence. And give solace to the poor families, Lord, who have lost young men way too soon.”

Momma’s prayer is her first time truly sharing her feelings about the trial and protests. Her words capture her worry but also her bravery in allowing Hana to participate in the protests. By allowing Hana to put herself in danger, Momma shows how important the cause is to her.

“Angie runs past me, but then she slows down so I can catch up with her. She smiles at me and points at my armband. ‘Black lives, right?’ A warm scoop of peach cobbler floats around in my stomach. In my head, I say, ‘Yes, sister.’ In my head, I say ‘Power to the people.’ In my head, I say, ‘Let’s become really good friends.’ Out loud, I say, ‘Right.’”

Shayla’s armband bridges the connection she craves with Angie and the other relay girls. The pleasure of Angie’s positive attention is metaphorically compared to peach cobbler, spreading the sweetness and the warmth of potential friendship throughout Shayla’s body. She’s still unable to fully express herself, containing all the things she wants to say with a single “Right.”

“It’s like they are all united and I’m on Lonely Island.”

Referring to the relay girls as “united” recalls Shayla’s United Nations friend group, who are divided. This association along with her metaphorical placement on “Lonely Island” emphasizes the isolation Shayla feels. She’s separated not only from her closest friends but from the Black girls on the track team, a group to which she feels she should belong.

“‘Take off that armband,’ Alvin says again. ‘Make me,’ I say, and shove my fists onto my hips.”

Shayla taking a stand against Alvin shows a major shift from her initial public trepidation. At the beginning of the novel, She would sink down into her chair when Ms. Jacobs simply looked at her meaningfully, but now she defies someone trying to silence her. Though she’s in what she would have previously considered trouble, confronting a peer, her hands are on her hips rather than rubbing or itching in anxiety.

“Today I felt like I was a part of something and apart from it at the same time.”

Shayla journals this reflection after her first day of wearing the armband after it was banned. She witnessed her Black classmates get their armbands cut off by Principal Trask while hers wasn’t even noticed until the end of the day. Ramée uses the homophones “a part” and “apart” to emphasize the dichotomy of Shayla’s feelings: “A part” denotes togetherness, while “apart” denotes separation. Shayla started the armband trend at her school in support of the Black community, but she isn’t experiencing the same consequences as her Black peers, making her feel isolated.

“I never knew walking right into trouble would make me feel strong. Maybe it has to be the right type of trouble.”

Shayla enters this thought into her eyeball journal after starting her own Black Lives Matter rally at school. The repetition of “right” and “trouble” stress that right and wrong aren’t always clear. The paradox of having a “right type of trouble” would have made Shayla’s hands itch at the beginning of the novel, but now, she feels “strong” after standing up for her beliefs.