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“Black history is Black horror. —Tanarive Due, Horror Noire: A History of Black Horror.”
The opening epigraph of the book, this quote foreshadows the racial identities of the central characters in the story and its central themes: the historical and ongoing oppression of and violence against Black Americans. The epigraph also introduces the tension between genres in the novel: On the one hand, The Other Black Girl is a psychological thriller with elements of science fiction horror; on the other, it is a realist novel that describes the hideously ordinary injustices Black people face every day, whether at the scale of police brutality or of microaggressions in the office.
“Imani says it’s not supposed to burn.”
This is one of the earliest clues that Diana, Imani, and Richard collaborated to control young Black women using hair grease. As Kendra Rae scratches her irritated scalp, she remembers overhearing this line on the phone and realizes that Diana and Imani are conspiring against her. Terrified, Kendra Rae leaves Manhattan and cuts all ties to her former life. As Diana reveals much later, this early formula of hair grease effectively lobotomizes the user and viciously burns the scalp. It isn’t until much later that Imani perfects the formula in the form of Smooth’d Out so that it no longer burns.
“I uncrossed my legs as I considered how long I could stay missing. Judging by how hard my name was being dragged through the papers, it wouldn’t be difficult for anyone to believe I’d want to ‘take a break’ from the spotlight. But how long would they leave me alone? How long would they be kind to Trace before demanding answers? They weren’t going to let me off the hook that easily. Not after what I had done.”
This passage comes immediately after the one above and offers both plot insight and a potential red herring. We learn that in addition to avoiding Diana and Imani, Kendra Rae is avoiding the press because she’s at the center of a public scandal. However, Harris’s use of “they” to describe Diana and Imani, after introducing the press, is intentionally confusing. Exactly who does Kendra Rae hope will leave her alone: her former friends or the press? Who won’t let her off the hook? By the end of the passage, because Harris repeats “they” as an unclear referent, the reader isn’t sure whether Diana and Imani or the press pose the bigger threat to Kendra Rae.
“The first sign was the smell of cocoa butter.”
The first sentence of the first chapter, this line establishes natural hair as one of the central motifs of the novel. Cocoa butter is infused into many hair products (Brown Buttah and Smooth’d Out, for example) and functions as a symbol of Blackness throughout the novel. The smell of cocoa butter is what hails Hazel’s arrival at Wagner and signals to Nella that there is another Black girl in the office. Cocoa butter is the pervading smell that wafts throughout nearly every chapter.
“Now, Nella was no fool. She understood that characters of color were en vogue, as was maintaining vigilance when it came to calling out anything that lacked proper representation. Nella wasn’t the one doing the calling out, but she closely monitored social media so she could support whoever did. She read think pieces by day and retweeted that the Oscars were indeed too white by night, and following the infamous Black-boy-in-a-white-monkey-hoodie incident, she took a six-month-long break from shopping at H&M—a big deal for someone who loved buying cheap basics in the summertime. She could see the common thread of perceived subhumanity that ran between the cultural faux pas of major corporations and the continuous police killings of Black people.”
This passage establishes Nella as a relatable, if somewhat flawed, protagonist. She is self-aware and understands the ways in which racist media representations enable acts of racial violence, particularly in the publishing world. Although she doesn’t identify as an activist, Nella feels compelled to support activists. However, given Nella’s relative class privilege, her efforts feel somewhat performative: Activism to Nella means sacrificing “cheap basics” for a period of six months before resuming her habits as usual.
“Years later, at a neighborhood picnic, her father asked Gerald’s brother why he hadn’t warned him. ‘I don’t know,’ he’d said, nibbling on the gristle of a rib somebody’s mama had spent all morning cooking. ‘Same thing happened to me when I applied.’”
This passage comes just after Hazel asks Nella for honest feedback regarding the cultural climate at Wagner. Nella remembers a story in which her father was recruited for a job by another Black man who described the establishment as white-owned but Black-run. After her father had been working there for several days, the white owner walked in and “ended up being a modern-day Simon Legree” (38), or a racist overseer who viciously demeans his employees. Nella’s father asked the other Black man why he hadn’t warned him, and the man’s response (above) reveals a cycle in which Black people are complicit in white supremacy and the oppression of other Black people. This memory convinces Nella to break the cycle and offer Hazel an honest review of her experiences working at Wagner.
“Hazel took a couple of steps toward the table and picked up her own mug. Painted on its side in swirls of purple and blue and orange was the unmistakable drawing of Zora Neale Hurston, tilted hat and all.
Nella wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed it before; it was so stunning. ‘Mug twins! Except your Zora is even prettier. That artwork is beautiful.’”
This passage is one of many in which similarities between Nella and Hazel start to emerge, revealing them as doppelgangers, or uncanny doubles of one another. At the beginning of the novel, Nella sees Hazel as someone with whom she has much in common, including their taste in literature; however, by the end, Nella regards Hazel as a rival and villain and focuses on their differences. Moments like this one blur the boundaries between the two women and suggest that, like Hazel, Nella was doomed to become an OBG from the very beginning.
“Since Burning Heart had been both written and edited by Black women, she placed its societal impact front and center, along with two other books that were edited and written by individuals of the same race—a rare feat, Nella had come to learn.”
Structural inequalities and biased hiring practices often result in overwhelmingly white workspaces. As Nella points out, it is rare for two individuals of the same non-white race to have the opportunity to collaborate. For this reason, Nella views Burning Heart as a symbol of what can be accomplished through Black solidarity. Ironically, when given the potential opportunity to work with Hazel on the Jesse Watson title, Nella is outraged.
“Because he’s just going to think I’m calling him racist. And you know how white people get when you call them racist.”
This is one of many passages in which Black characters reflect on the material impact of white fragility, or the irrational defensiveness with which white people respond when someone points out their racial bias. In this conversation, Nella and Hazel discuss the character of Shartricia over lunch, and Nella voices her trepidation at critiquing Colin’s racist portrayal. Although Nella is in the more precarious position as a junior Black employee, she doesn’t want to risk what little authority she has by hurting Colin’s feelings. Colin’s response to Nella’s critique has the power to economically impact Nella’s life.
“Her colleagues, strangely, had made it clear very early on that they didn’t really see her as a young Black woman, but as a young woman who just happened to be Black—as though her college degree had washed all of the melanin away. In their eyes, she was the exception. She was ‘qualified.’ An Obama of publishing, so to speak.
Sometimes she saw this as a blessing. They never really bothered asking her for sensitivity reads, and they rarely asked her about ‘Black issues’—either because they didn’t want to offend her by doing so, or because they simply didn’t care enough to ask. But other times, she found it almost demeaning, as though accepting Wagner’s job offer had also meant giving up her Black identity.”
This is one of many passages in which Nella reflects upon her intersectional experience as a Black woman at Wagner. On the one hand, Nella is relieved that she doesn’t constantly need to “Blacksplain” things to her white colleagues. On the other, her position as the “Obama of publishing” alludes to Nella’s insecurity that she is too passive or nonthreatening—that her version of Blackness doesn’t challenge racial bias but rather reinforces it through complicity.
“‘That’s easy for you to say.’ Nella paused, her stick of deodorant poised mid-application, and waited for Owen to flip over and look back at her. She hadn’t intended for her words to come out as loaded as they did, but they had, and now it was too late to deny what was weighing them down: the fact that Owen was a white cis male who would never have many of the conversations she did, unless they ended up having children one day.”
This conversation between Nella and Owen takes place the morning after Nella’s disastrous meeting with Colin Franklin. Owen believes the awkwardness will blow over within a week, but Nella believes it will permanently impact her career at Wagner. One of the things Nella values about her relationship with Owen is their ability to be candid about the different ways in which they move through the world as a Black woman and a white man. However, in this instance, Owen makes assumptions about Nella’s life based on his own privileged experiences.
“‘So… you can’t tie scarves, or do flat twists?’ Hazel was visibly taken aback.
‘I…’ Nella reached for the strap of her bag instead of reaching for one of her curls. Hazel hadn’t asked, How have you made it this far without knowing how to style Black hair? But she didn’t need to. Nella asked herself this often.”
This conversation between Nella and Hazel occurs in the elevator just after Hazel gifts India with an African head scarf. Nella is already feeling insecure about her version of Blackness because Hazel was able to bond with India, another Black employee, so quickly. Hazel’s incredulity when she learns that Nella can’t do Black hair makes Nella feel even more inadequate and causes her to reflect on her childhood and college years, which did not include many Black experiences.
“Only after she’d clicked away from Curl Central’s website could she identify the source of the feeling: It was the new knowledge that Hazel’s boyfriend wasn’t white. He was Dominican. Dominican Dominican. As in, he’d been born in the DR and had lived there for ten years before immigrating to New York.”
Like the passage above, this passage reveals Nella’s insecurities around racial identity. Throughout the novel we learn that with one brief exception Nella has only dated white men. When compared to Hazel, whose boyfriend not only is Black but immigrated from a predominantly Black country, Nella feels even less authentically Black.
“‘Well, we all know how it goes: We gotta work twice as hard to get what we want.’ Nella recited the mantra, but realized the second it left her mouth that it was aggressively truer for C.J. than it was for Nella. Nella, whose mother had paid off half her student loans; Nella, who had no nieces and nephews to help with math homework when she got home from a long day of work.”
Nella arrives at the office before seven o’clock to find C.J. and Hazel, the only two other Black employees on the floor, already there. Nella’s comment refers to the adage that Black people must work twice as hard to receive the same economic opportunities as white people. Nella finds this to be true in many aspects of her career; however, she realizes C.J., who did not grow up with the same economic, educational, or social advantages, likely needs to work even harder. This is another example of intersectionality, or the ways in which interconnected categories of race, class, and gender create overlapping and complex systems of discrimination and disadvantage.
“A light brush skittered across her leg. She yelped and thrashed, noticing a moment too late that it was just Pam, the sweet Chilean woman who cleaned the building afterhours, trying to empty her trash.
‘Oh, Pam,’ Nella cried, clutching the woman’s arm. ‘I am so, so, so sorry!’
Pam politely removed her hand. ‘It’s ok, honey,’ she said, reaching again for Nella’s trash can. ‘This place gives me the creeps, too.’”
This exchange occurs late one evening after Nella has already received two cryptic notes and is particularly on edge. We later learn that Pam has been working with the Resistance to leave notes at Nella’s desk, so it’s possible that Pam was attempting to leave a third when she grazed Nella’s leg. In addition to offering a clue into the Resistance’s inner workings, this passage, like the one above, also demonstrates the ways in which Nella is both a victim of discrimination at Wagner and someone with relative privilege. Nella opts to stay late in the “creepy” building to gain favor with her boss; Pam has to stay late in the “creepy” building because it’s the nature of her job.
“‘Okay. This is going to sound crazy, so just hear me out, okay?’ Hazel twisted one of her locs and looked up at the ceiling. After about five seconds of this, she said, apprehensively, ‘There’s this thing. I’m not sure you’ve heard of it.’
Hazel peeked over at the back of the girl sitting nearby. The scar was still facing them, her face now deep in her cell phone. ‘This thing—it’s kind of a social phenomenon. It’s called…’ She inhaled deeply, then exhaled through pursed lips and leaned forward. ‘“Code-switching.”’”
Nella is hurt and outraged by Hazel’s betrayal in the marketing meeting and confronts her at Curl Central. When Nella asks why Hazel praised Shartricia, Hazel admits that she hated the character but said what her white colleagues wanted to hear to gain their trust. Hazel then mocks Nella’s concerns by pretending to share a secret that isn’t a secret at all: Black people frequently use code switching to navigate white spaces. Hazel claims she’s code switching to ensure her success at Wagner. However, Nella believes that Hazel takes “code-switching to an entirely new level” (240), and this passage foreshadows the cover meeting in which Hazel will, once again, betray Nella.
“OBGs. ‘Other Black Girls,’ Lynn had dubbed them, ‘because they’re not our kind.’ They were something else entirely. Something close to alien, although Lynn wasn’t out-there enough to suspect that these OBGs—or whatever it was that was changing them—had landed here from outer space. She just knew there was a deeper explanation for why these young women were suddenly no longer beholden to anyone but themselves and the white people they worked for. Why they were so obsessed with success—and with taking down any Black women who got in their way.”
Although Shani briefly references OBGs in earlier chapters, this is the first explicit definition. We learn that there is a whole network of OBGs that extends beyond and before Hazel and that OBGs have existed for at least 20 years. We also learn that they’re not alien but have alien qualities, adding a science fiction horror element to the novel.
“‘Hey, Hazel! How’s it going?’
Nella spun around and saw Sophie, red-cheeked and now highly embarrassed.
‘Oh, shit,’ she said. ‘Nella. I am so sorry. I thought you were—’
‘Yeah,’ said Nella, glaring at her. ‘I think I know exactly what you thought.’”
In this exchange, Sophie mistakes Nella for Hazel, and Malaika’s prediction from Part 1 comes true: that someone “is gonna mix [Nella] and the new Black girl up at least once” (42). On the one hand, Sophie’s mistake is an example of the racist assumption that all Black people look alike. This type of mix-up can be both annoying and potentially deadly, as in police cases of mistaken identity and arrest that lead to excessive force against Black people. On the other hand, in the context of a psychological thriller novel, this mix-up alludes to the fact that Nella and Hazel are doppelgangers and, although Sophie certainly exhibits racist microaggressions, it’s also possible that Nella and Hazel are more alike than different.
“Nella shuddered as she stared down at the cover, searching for some subversive element that she might have missed, like a conversation starter that might get people talking about race and colorism in class. But all that was there was Colin’s caricature. Live and in living color. You can’t just do this, she thought, fuming. You can’t just put an image like this on a book cover without providing any context. She saw little Black and brown and white children walking up to the New Releases table at Barnes & Noble and picking it up, attracted by the bright colors. Saw the little gears turning in these kids’ heads for two seconds, or however long it took for images to imprint upon their young, impressionable brains. And she saw these same kids running back to their families, forever touched by the troubling racist image of Shartricia without even being aware of it.”
Harris explores the ways in which literary texts, such as Burning Heart and Pins and Needles, and visual images, such as Leonard’s watercolor representation of Shartricia, have the power to influence public opinion and behaviors surrounding race. Nella’s internal dialogue in this passage emphasizes that racist images affect people of every race, albeit disproportionately. The “pickaninny” portrayal on this cover might cause Black and brown children as well as white children to internalize racist images, perpetuating a cycle in which Black and brown people have an innate sense of being inferior.
“I could see the headline trending now—something clever about the river of Uncle Toms flowing beneath the shiny, plastic surface of corporate white America. That article could be my gateway to telling Kendra Rae’s story next—a story of betrayal, not just by a friend but by an entire industry.”
Unlike the Resistance, which under Lynn’s leadership strives to collect evidence gradually to build an airtight case, Shani is eager to warn the world about the dangers of OBGs. Frustrated by Lynn’s inaction and unwilling to see Nella’s life ruined, Shani goes rogue and plans to meet with Nella. Given what she’s learned from Kendra Rae and what she hopes to learn from Nella, Shani plans to expose the OBGs on her own for the “Uncle Toms” they are.
“‘But I don’t get why any Black person would want to do that,’ Dick had said. ‘Isn’t Black Pride still in?’
‘Of course it’s still “in,”’ I’d snapped. ‘And Imani’s creation isn’t going to change any ounce of that. It’s just supposed to… help keep that pride intact. Help us Black women wade a little easier through the waves of racism without feeling like we have to swim so hard.’”
This exchange between Richard and Diana reveals Diana and Imani’s motivation for developing and distributing Smooth’d Out. Richard, like Kendra Rae, Shani, and Nella, sees Smooth’d Out as the dilution of Black power and pride and a mechanism that makes Black women passive and pliable to white employers. Diana and Imani, on the other hand, see Smooth’d Out as an antidote to the stress and strain placed upon “Strong Black Women” exhausted by the daily pain of reading about racial violence and the disenfranchisement of Black people. Diana and Imani see Smooth’d Out to stop feeling the pain of white supremacy and the “heavy anvil of genetic trauma” that follows Black women throughout their lives (343, 344).
“But there’d also been something profound in those moments. Something intangible. This something was in the look that her friends gave her when she told them how many hours she’d spent sitting between her mother’s legs watching the 227 marathon that had been on TV One that weekend (then, explaining what 227 was); it was the nature of this elongated physical contact that most non-Black teenagers didn’t have with their mothers, but she did. And in was in the little things such contact—however many hours of time she’d spent with hands in her hair—taught her about the women in her family. Hair-care regimens, passed down from both sides. Patience, until the fine line of impatience settled over the whole scene like a bad odor. Perfectionism.”
This passage illustrates the “profound” sense of intergenerational connection Nella feels when getting her hair done. Although she considers Hazel a professional rival at best and a dangerous stalker at worst, Nella finds momentary comfort as she eases back onto Hazel’s knees to have her scalp massaged. This moment is both an empowering reflection on Black female experiences and solidarity and a poignant precursor to the shock and betrayal Nella later feels when she discovers Hazel’s files.
“Nella closed her eyes, picturing this cursive she’d seen a hundred times—the signature on every contract, every thoughtful holiday card written to Wagner’s authors. ‘Richard. This is Richard’s handwriting.’”
This is the moment in which Nella realizes that Hazel is part of a larger network whose mission is to target and convert Black women into OBGs. As Nella and Malaika review the photos Nella took of Hazel’s files, she realizes that Richard, not Hazel, has written the biographical notes on these women. She understands that Hazel works for Richard, whose reach and power extend far beyond New York and Boston, and that Richard has been behind these conversions since at least 1983, when he and Diana attempted to convert Kendra Rae.
“But Nella did the interrupting this time. ‘How can be truly fix any of those stereotypes—those problems—if we’re not truly feeling all of the real things the world is throwing at us? Who are we as a people if we’re not… if we’re not…’
Hazel was giving Nella another once-over, but this time it was clear she didn’t like what she was hearing. ‘If we’re not what, Nella? Suffering?’”
This conversation occurs at the novel’s climax, in which Hazel confronts Nella in the Wagner bathroom and Nella consents to becoming an OBG. At first Nella resists, insisting that remaining conscious is the only way to push back against the stereotype that Black women can do or be anything if they work hard enough. However, Hazel’s interjection highlights the inherent harm of leaning on the trope of the “Strong Black Woman.” With her rhetorical questions, Hazel points out the injustice of expecting Black women to perpetually shoulder the burden of battling racism by being martyrs for social justice causes.
“It was difficult to decide whether the confidence that had always emanated off Hazel was manufactured, something that Smooth’d Out had instilled within her. Or if it was a push she’d always had from within, from the day she’d first learned that it would not be enough for her to simply go to college, get good grades, and get the interview. That it wouldn’t be enough to simply show up to work; to wear the right clothes. You had to wear the right mentality. You had to live the mentality. Be everyone’s best friend. Be sassy. Be confident, but also be deferential. Be spiritual, but also be down-to-earth. Be woke, but still keep some of that sleep in your eyes, too.”
This passage, like the previous one, demonstrates the weariness that Nella feels when attempting to be all of things that define a “Strong Black Woman.” To embody that identity, one must inhabit a series of contradictions: Be strong and submissive, be conscious of systemic racism, and also accept it. Fatigued from living these contradictions, Nella consents to be converted and opts instead for the easy confidence that Smooth’d Out can offer her as an OBG.
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