Imagine, just for a moment, a world without White people.
That’s exactly what the book Sky Full of Elephants invites you to do. The story takes place one year after an event causes every single White person in America, children included, to mysteriously walk into the nearest body of water, never to be seen again.
I won’t give too many spoilers, but this book was a 9/10 for me. I would give it a 10 if one of the main characters didn’t piss me off so damn much!
I mostly want to talk about what in this story struck me to my core. There are several instances in the book where Black folk are just enjoying being outside. They’re traveling by foot, taking in their surroundings. They’re living life in the city going to and fro. But what got me right in my feels were the scenes where Black folk were just existing outside; laying out in the grass, dancing under the stars. Something so seemingly ordinary had my heart in my throat because for just a moment I could imagine Black men and women existing in the absence of fear – without worrying that someone was policing them or mentally preparing to explain why they were there.
As you may or may not know, the Black experience in America is often difficult when it comes to just being outside. Black people are often perceived as loitering. Police are called when they’re hanging out at the pool or fishing in community ponds. Heaven forbid they have hobbies like bird watching or want to BBQ at the local park.
Most White people don’t think about existing in public because they don’t have to. No one questions why they are walking their dog in an affluent neighborhood. They aren’t being questioned about their comings and goings through public spaces. Their freedom lies in never having to consider how their presence is being perceived.
Are we really free if we can’t be outside without constant surveillance, scrutiny or harassment? These scenes in Sky Full of Elephants represent more than just leisure. They symbolize freedom, safety and belonging.
> Freedom is the ability to do what you enjoy.
> Safety is never having to worry that something bad will happen every time you leave the house.
> Belonging is the confidence that you have every right to occupy the world you’re moving through.
There’s nothing so extraordinary about being outside when you’re White. But for Black people, who are constantly denied the presumption of innocence, it can mean something entirely different. It made my heart ache in a good way just to be invited to imagine being outside and feeling safe and free to just exist. The mental burden of constantly adjusting your smile, your tone, your posture – trying to appear less threatening or aggressive, it’s something I don’t think most White people ever have to experience.
Why is it that there must always be some sinister reason for Black folk to be out and about? Black people are policed constantly for doing the most innocuous things like walking down the street, entering a store or eating lunch in their car.
“When you’re black, you’re never really lonely because there will always be a white person all up in your business.”
Being mixed, I can get by as an ambiguous observer of human behavior. Often on my nature walks, I will catch White people staring at a Black man as he appears on the trail, as though he were some suspicious coyote, dangerous and somehow expected not to be there, despite the trail being as much his as anyone else’s. Long before the police are ever called, irrational fear has already taken hold, quietly convincing them that the Black man on the trail is a threat. I stare at them as they stare at him, because I want them to know that they too are being watched and scrutinized.
The freedom to exist outside is not created equal, certainly not in America, certainly still not in the year 2026. It wasn’t just fantasy because Black people were dancing under the stars. It felt like fantasy because, in a country where the legacy of sundown towns still persists, no one questioned whether they had a right to be outside at all.
There’s no pretending now that the systems aren’t stacked against us. This current administration removed DEI, employed white nationalists to target Hispanics, and is actively trying to figure out how to remove birthright citizenship without just going full gestapo. If you think for one second that immigration is where they intend to draw the line, well, babe, you haven’t been paying much attention, now have you?
All of these efforts at their core are simply because racist White people can’t stand seeing Black people exist. Not just existing, but thriving. They hate to see black joy, and black beauty, and black excellence. If they can’t confine Black people to roles they deem socially acceptable (i.e., entertainment, athletics, or service industries), they’d rather not see them at all. Black athletes, for instance, are acceptable until they take a knee in protest of racial injustice and police brutality.
Despite the inequality of our existence outside the walls of our homes, Black people continue to persevere and overcome. I think now more than ever Black people are working toward building community and finding every excuse to enjoy life. Maybe that’s why these scenes in the book meant so much to me. They reminded me that joy itself is an act of resistance. Every moment spent existing unapologetically outside with our boisterous laughter is a quiet declaration that we belong here too.
