Acknowledgments

When I was an undergraduate, a sociology professor invited our seminar class to his house for an end-of-year gathering. During what was supposed to be a relaxed evening of reflections and takeaways, the professor somehow felt compelled to discuss my writing with the rest of the class and said, “You should write the way you talk.” This was code for, “Why are you trying to sound intelligent?”

The professor was referring to a twang familiar to many kids who came up through the Providence public schools. I think within some perverse realm of whiteness, the professor had convinced himself that he was doing me a favor by helping me “find my voice” and alleviate the pressure of assimilating to Western logic and writing conventions. Still, what he failed to appreciate was that he had already suspended me in his own version of the “ethnographic present.” I was frozen in an urban sociological fantasy that pathologizes racialized students from poor, urbanized space as incapable of keeping pace with the rigors of the academy. The professor’s words were a reminder that I was living, learning, and laboring in a system that was designed without me and so many others in mind. Thus, it was not possible for me to engage with complex theories and concepts without sacrificing my voice.

I imagine the professor assured himself that what he said was not racist (at least not as racist as another one of his sociology colleagues, who accused me of plagiarism by telling me that “undergraduates do not write like this”). But he failed to recognize how maddening it is for a first-generation college student to be told he doesn’t have to conform to the same wretched system that demands he do so in order to achieve at least a modicum of “academic success.” At the time, I didn’t have an expression to describe such behavior. Today we might call it “gaslighting.” The problem was not that I needed to find my voice—it was that the academic-industrial complex had already rendered my voice unintelligible. Insofar as my words were comprehensible, I would need to be ventriloquized by a reputable representative of the university. Given my antagonistic relationship to the university, I have come to appreciate the need to write the way I speak. Thank you to everyone who has encouraged me to do more code sticking and less code switching.

Anything I can offer through this book is a product of what I’ve been given. Material support goes a long way to making books like this possible. Still, without the care and generosity of so many friends, colleagues, mentors, and youths, this book would not exist. The magnitude of my gratitude cannot be contained in words. To that end, I hope my appreciation is and has been felt as much as it is read or understood.

I am immensely grateful to the youths who contributed to this book. It is no coincidence that some of the most radical and transformational movements emerge from the willful energy of younger generations. Experience may come with age, but so does resignation to the status quo. Youths’ unadulterated and unadulted imaginations have serious counterhegemonic potential because they are not afraid to ask questions. They ask these questions while letting their visions for another world run wild. So many youths who contributed to this book had a unique ability to imagine a not-yet-here beyond and outside the current spacetime. If transformative change starts at the radix, or the root, then it only makes sense to center the sprouts.

This book is based on research I conducted in the Department of Sociology at the University of Minnesota. Thank you to my mentors: David Naguib Pellow, Joyce M. Bell, Rose M. Brewer, and Jeylan Mortimer. Thank you, David and Joyce, for nurturing my urge to maintain an antagonistic and fugitive relationship to sociology. Your genuine care and fierce advocacy let me know you had my back. Though illegible to the university, I recognize and appreciate the inordinate amount of labor you perform inside and outside the classroom. Thank you, Rose Brewer, for your mentorship and guidance and for modeling what it means to be committed to struggles beyond the academy. Thank you to Jeylan Mortimer for helping me to think about how to situate my work within various subfields in sociology, even when I found it most comfortable to be outside those fields.

Much of the writing of this book occurred during my experiences at Georgetown University. Thank you to Kathleen Guidroz, Becky Yang Hsu, Yuki Kato, Brian J. McCabe, Kristin Perkins, and Sarah Stiles for reviewing early book proposal drafts and providing such thoughtful feedback. Special thank you to Carole Sargent, director of the Office of Scholarly Publications at Georgetown, for transforming my diffidence over the book into a sense of possibility and wonderment. Finally, thank you to my mentor, Corey D. Fields. Your guidance, brilliance, and sense of humor only made my experience even more gratifying. You went out of your way to check in personally and professionally. I left each of our meetings with greater enthusiasm than when I entered. Even when the COVID-19 pandemic struck, your support did not waver. How you managed to so effortlessly be both conscientious and visionary in such a place like the academy remains hard to fathom. Still, I am grateful for all you do.

It is difficult to write a book about time while feeling the pressure to be punctual with my prose. My nonlinear writing process consists of pauses, stops, reversals, detours, misdirection, disorientation, ambivalence, ambiguity, wanderings, and wonderings. Thank you to Jim Lance, Clare Jones, Mary Kate Murphy, and the entire editorial staff at Cornell University Press for extending such grace when it came to deadlines. I would be lying if I said that I was intentionally funking the clock. The truth is, each second, minute, hour, day, and week I was not able to complete this manuscript increased what already felt like an unbearable weight. Jim, your enthusiasm for this book affirmed my excitement in what was at the time still just a hope. I am grateful for our many email jam sessions and idea shares in the very early stages of the pandemic. I never expected an editor’s vision to be so aligned with my own. Thank you for trusting my voice and vision.

I was fortunate enough to host a manuscript development workshop that included a stellar list of scholars, including La Marr Jurelle Bruce, Lisa Marie Cacho, Corey D. Fields, Freeden Blume Oeur, L. H. Stallings, and Terrion Williamson. What an honor it was to be in the company (albeit virtually) of so many scholars whose work has significantly informed my own.

Many thanks to past and present members of the Critical Race and Ethnic Studies (CRES) interdisciplinary writing group at the University of Minnesota. Countless members of CRES read drafts of nearly every chapter and helped sharpen my analyses in ways that exceed the conceptual boundaries of a single discipline, especially sociology. The imprint of their generous feedback and thoughtful engagement can be found throughout most chapters in this book. This brilliant group of scholars includes Bodunrin Banwo, Ana Cláudia dos Santos São Bernardo, Sayan Bhattacharya, Kidiocus Carroll, Diana Chandara, Chip Chang, René Esparza, Tia-Simone Gardner, Roy Guzman, Elena Hristova, Ezekiel Joubert III, Dewitt King, Brittany Lewis, Brian Lozenski, Emily Mitamura, Joanna Núñez, Naimah Pétigny, Kong Pha, Beaudelaine Pierre, José Manuel Santillana Blanco, Rashad Williams, Colin Wingate, and AK Wright. I’m grateful to you all for creating a meaningful space for study and fostering the type of fellowship that requires no competition. Thank you for modeling what it means to be beholden to one another rather than to the systems and conventions we are seeking to dismantle. When it comes to being good friends, you all have mad skills.

There are so many others who have helped to make this book possible by being generous readers, thought partners, mentors, and friends. This list includes Felicia Arriaga, Ahmad Azzahir, Elder Atum Azzahir, Freeden Blume Oeur, Eduardo Bonilla-Silva, Naomi Macalalad Bragin, David Brunsma, Raphael Coffey, monét cooper, David Embrick, Freda L. Fair, Rod Ferguson, Denise Ferreira da Silva, Carrie Freshour, Pallavi Gupta, Troy Harden, Theresa Hice-Fromille, Anthony Jimenez, Lauren Elizabeth Reine Johnson, Phil Kretsedemas, Cedric De Leon, May Lin, Jodi Melamed, Corey Miles, Melissa Milkie, Avarigi Miller, Victor Ray, Dylan Rodríguez, Michael Rodríguez-Muñiz, Marcell Saliba-Coffey, Uriel Serrano, Pramila Vasudevan, and Michelle M. Wright. Special thank you to Ruha Benjamin for the invitation to serve as a co-organizer for the two-part “Time for Black Studies” symposium sponsored by Princeton University. Ruha, your prescient vision for a more just and sustainable world is truly inspiring.

Most of the ideas for this book were cultivated during my time at the University of Minnesota. Without the support of friends and colleagues, I would have lost much of my energy to keep on keeping on. Thank you to Matthew Aguilar-Champeau, Karin Aguilar-San Juan, Eden Almasude, Tanja Andic, De Andre Beadle, Matthew Boynton, Javaris Bradford, Kriti Budhiraja, Edgar Campos, Teri Caraway, Corey Culver, Hana Dinku, Carl Elliott, Gunercindo Espinoza, Jennifer Etienne, Courtney Gildersleeve, Lisa Gulya, Kristin Haltinner, Amber Hamilton, Cassandra Hendricks, Choua Her, Erin Hoekstra, Zenzele Isoke, Siddharth Iyengar, Anthony Jimenez, Annie Jollymore, Amber Jones, Yagmur Karakaya, Meg Krausch, Snigdha Kumar, Wenjie Liao, Alex Manning, María José Méndez, Natasha Moore, Devika Narayan, Mario Obando, Yuichiro Onishi, Karla Padrón, Lena Palacios, Lisa Sun-Hee Park, Soham Patel, Miray Philips, Victoria Piehowski, Mary Pogatshnik, Amber Joy Powell, Anuradha Sajjanhar, jim saliba, Malak Shahin, Wahutu Siguru, Emily Springer, Catherine Squires, Stephen Suh, Joe Svec, Jasmine Tang, Farrah Tek, Shakita Thomas, Edén Torres, Aisha Upton, Alexandra Vagac, Madison Van Oort, Aria Weatherspoon, Rob Wilson, and Atosha Zerbine. Respect due to mi bredren Christopher “Junior” Williams. You were my only East Coast–Midwest connection, but I did not know it until I moved to the Twin Cities. Apprecilove star. Special thanks to Anthony Jimenez. I feel incredibly fortunate for the many experiences we’ve shared that have allowed me to call you a friend, comrade, and brother.

At Providence College, I’ve had the pleasure of being supported by some amazing colleagues. Special thanks to Zophia Edwards and Trina Vithayathil for their guidance and advocacy, and their fierce resistance to Civilization and the institutions that cultivate it.

There is an iterative connection between my scholarship and activism. As I think about how racialized violence takes time, I cannot help but recall the inordinate amount of time I and so many other comrades spent fighting court cases, challenging student conduct charges, performing “community service,” and contending against other repressive tactics used to quell dissent. Most of the fieldwork for this book was conducted while we were actively engaged in struggles on and off campus. So thank you to Irina Barrera, Marco Cruz Blanco, Fathi Fae, Natalie Goodwin, Tori Hong, Hoda Isak, Melinda Lee, Katie Levin, Nadio Linoo, David Melendez, Joanna Núñez, Zack Pierson, Leah Prudent, Idalia Robles de León, Meron Tebeje, Duaba Unenra, and Khin Warkhaung. I remain in communion with those freedom fighters who have made the transition to another spacetime, including Jesús Estrada Pérez, Rose Freeman Massey, Mel Reeves, Ms. Anna Stanley, and Tor.

Thank you to Terrion Williamson and the entire Black Midwest Initiative for mapping presence in presumed absence. The many Black artists, activists, scholars, and other community-connected folk in the Midwest are a reminder that Blackness defies longitudinal and latitudinal coordinates.

I cannot ignore the many nourishing spaces outside the university that protected me from the desiccating elements of the university. Before beginning my fieldwork, I had already established ties with a few youth groups in St. Paul and North Minneapolis, including Urban 4-H, and I began volunteering with two groups of high school youths. Some of my fondest memories are of weekly meetings and several events that were truly youth oriented, youth driven, and youth led. I left each meeting awestruck at how all the youths were light years ahead of where I was at their age. Their prescience gave me tremendous hope for what was and what could be. So thank you to Samantha Compean, Dani Rae Gorman, Ryoko Grosbusch, Adriana Leal, Gao Lee Brandy Matute, Danna Morales, Soukie Nantharath, Frank Rypa, Ka Thao, and Miesee Xiong. And of course, thank you to our incredible coordinator, Kathryn Sharpe. Each of you will forever hold a special place in my heart.

Thank you to all my organizing pals with the Social Justice Education Movement (SJEM): Cory Cochrane, Sadie Cox, Sarah Garton, Liya Gebremariam, Max Hoiland, Ro Lin, Tracy Pham, Madeleine Pinkerton, Abigail Rombalski, Kurt RuKim, and Sarah Zalanga. Reflecting on our many visioning sessions and the love, care, and joy infused into the Social Justice Education Fair still brings a smile to my face. It was my organizing with SJEM that opened the door for me to become a part of Free Minds, Free People. Much love to the entire Free Minds, Free People family.

During my time in the Twin Cities, I had the good fortune to organize with and learn from a range of brilliant organizers. Love and solidarity to Jose Avilar, Stephanie B., David Boehnke, Monique Cullars-Doty, Alaina DeSalvo, Rahhel Haile, Isuru Herath, Nazir Khan, Ricardo Levins-Morales, mk nguyen, Nick O., Peter Rachleff, Alisha Roopchand, Anna Stitt, TK, Duaba Unenra, Robin Wonsley, and Ladan Yusuf. Thank you to one of my closest connections to sweet, sweet T&T in the Twin Cities, Marla Jadoonanan—D’ original “Trinisotan.” Many of us know you as “Ma” because of the warm and welcoming atmosphere of the best restaurant in Minnesota. You nourished more than just our bellies. You also fed our spirits and souls.

During my brief time in DC, I was fortunate enough to connect with some of the sharpest organizing minds in the DC, Maryland, Virginia (DMV) region. Thank you to all my comrades with the DC Incarcerated Workers Organizing Committee (IWOC) and Free Them All VA for modeling a community of care and accountability to make prisons and other systems of captivity obsolete. My organizing was so intimately linked to the topic of race and time that it became the premise for the opening to the conclusion of this book. Special shout-out to the Behind the Walls committee in Providence, Rhode Island. Since leaving the East Coast to begin work in Minnesota, I experienced some serious strain over engaging in meaningful struggles in communities that welcomed me but that I could still not necessarily call home. Returning to Providence and joining Behind the Walls helped to alleviate a lot of these tensions. Sending health, strength, and ease to comrades behind and beyond the wall. Please know that when we make the call to “free them all,” we don’t place an asterisk or footnote next to “all.” “All” means all. There is no qualification for liberation. This is solidarity, not charity, and we show it without expectation for reciprocity.

I strive to write with and for those without extra initials behind their name, especially those who have taught me more than most people with degrees. So I was quite honored when my father’s key partner, Isaac, told me that he read a draft of chapter 2. Isaac said that he had not given a lot of thought to the phrase “teefing time,” but he acknowledged that we must teef time “because time is Babylon own.”

Family remains a site of so much warmth, nourishment, and love. Thank you to all my aunties, uncles, and cousins everywhere. Love and eternal gratitude to my mother and father. Your embrace nourishes me. Your words affirm me. Your love sustains me. Thank you for nurturing my desire for connection and a sense of solidarity. Thank you for letting my imagination run wild and for accompanying me in my travels. Thank you for helping me recognize that schools were not the only site of knowledge, knowledge production, and knowledge producers. My biography informs my scholarship, and my story would not be complete without my siblings—Jawara, Amina, Jordan, and Noah. Our upbringings were together and apart. Still, love kept us close, and we continue to come through for one another when hard times hit. I love you all.

I cannot imagine having completed this manuscript without the love and support of my partner, Ana Cláudia dos Santos São Bernardo. Your kindness, patience, and grace are virtues I admire and cherish. Eu te amo. As we embark on our new journey as parents, I am eager to continue learning with and from you. Asani is extremely lucky to have a mother who showers him with so much love and care every day. Thank you, Asani, for helping me to see the world through your eyes. Because of you, I embrace the opportunity to learn and unlearn every day. Daddy loves you.

An earlier version of chapter 7 was published as the following article: “Why Is the Time Always Right for White and Wrong for Us? How Racialized Youth Make Sense of Whiteness and Temporal Inequality,” Sociology of Race and Ethnicity 5 no. 2 (2019): 186–99, © American Sociological Association, 2018.