Date Read:
September 26th, 2022 – September 28th, 2022
Rating: 
Format:
Audiobook
Summary:
Author Tiffany D. Jackson ramps up the horror and tackles America’s history and legacy of racism in this YA novel following a biracial teenager as her Georgia high school hosts its first integrated prom.
When Springville residents—at least the ones still alive—are questioned about what happened on prom night, they all have the same explanation…Maddy did it.
An outcast at her small-town Georgia high school, Madison Washington has always been a teasing target for bullies. And she’s dealt with it because she has more pressing problems to manage. Until the morning a surprise rainstorm reveals her most closely kept secret: Maddy is biracial. She has been passing for white her entire life at the behest of her fanatical white father, Thomas Washington.
After a viral bullying video pulls back the curtain on Springville High’s racist roots, student leaders come up with a plan to change their image: host the school’s first integrated prom as a show of unity. The popular white class president convinces her Black superstar quarterback boyfriend to ask Maddy to be his date, leaving Maddy wondering if it’s possible to have a normal life.
But some of her classmates aren’t done with her just yet. And what they don’t know is that Maddy still has another secret… one that will cost them all their lives.
Review:
Trigger warnings for racism, racial microaggressions, racialized bullying, police brutality, mentions of lynching, brief uses of the n-word, child abuse (physical and emotional), sexism, and graphic violence that involves vomiting and blood.
Last month, one of my favorite movie commentary YouTubers, Kennie J.D., discussed three classic horror movies for her weekly show Bad Movies and a Beat. One of these movies was the 1976 adaptation of Carrie by Stephen King. In the video, she questions the film’s appeal, citing the lack of redeemable characters and how the revenge fantasy echoes the excuses school shooters spout in the aftermath of their violence. After watching that segment of the video, all I could think about is how there are so many remakes, adaptations, and retellings of this story. What draws generations of horror fans to this film? Is it the visceral violence? Is it the satisfying thought of seeking justice in such a primal way? Despite the questions ringing in my head, I still wanted to read The Weight of Blood. The premise alone told me that it was different from the other Carrie reimaginings.
Readers may critique The Weight of Blood for making most of the named white characters overtly or implicitly racist. However, considering the small town’s shared conservative mindset, no one should be surprised by this degree of representation. In addition to highlighting overt racism through the main bully Jules, Tiffany D. Jackson demonstrates the many subtle ways these biases can arise in communities like this – ones that try to hide violently racist roots with fake smiles and old fashioned values. A teacher questions if the black quarterback, Kenny, had his white girlfriend, Wendy, do his homework for him. The community ignores the Black Student Union’s protests about holding racist students and institutions accountable. One man expects the school to return to segregated proms after the first integrated one because he, like everyone else, knows it’s just a publicity ploy to appease the media. Despite how much she protests that she’s not as bad as Jules, Wendy uses Kenny and the other black students to uphold her reputation as a kind, charitable girl. In reality, she only wants Kenny because his football career is her meal ticket out of poverty.
Outside of Jules, most of the overt displays of racism come from Thomas Washington, Maddy’s father. Considering his obsession with American history and pre-Civil Rights memorabilia, I believe Jackson purposely named him after Thomas Jefferson and George Washington. Not only do their titles as “founding fathers” make them essential figures in American history, but both presidents were also slave owners. The former of which had a child named Sally Hemmings with one of his slaves (and he eventually had six children with Sally 🤮). Mr. Washington is the novel’s symbol of white supremacist patriarchy, demonstrated by the abuse he inflicts on his biracial child. He only keeps and raises Maddy to control her racial identity, femininity, and otherworldly powers. He teaches her “facts” that revise history, denying the atrocities white people have inflicted upon people of color. In the case of the Civil Rights narrative, he claims that black folks marched peacefully and were rewarded with equality, contributing to the idea that black people have to earn decent treatment. Whether it’s through Maddy cosplaying as fully white or Kenny playing into the “not like the other blacks” role for his friend group, Springville encourages the black population to comply to earn acceptance. And if you don’t obey, you’re abused for it.
For the sake of my mental health, I have actively avoided books that center overt racism this year. But I withstood the atrocities in The Weight of Blood. At a certain point, the abuse didn’t shock me anymore, and my anticipation for Maddy’s bloody revenge drew me closer to the edge of my seat. With the added context of racial oppression, this violent outburst isn’t just about Maddy. It’s about Kenny, his sister Kali, and the other black students at Springville High. It’s about the black children who have died at the hands of police officers just because they look threatening. It’s about the centuries of abuse black people have endured in America, starting the moment they were chained and thrown onto the boats that shipped them across the Atlantic. None of the racist characters showed any prospect of redemption. Their biases are so deeply ingrained into the community and way of life. They’re too closed off from the more liberal communities around them, so they don’t bother considering the consequences of their actions until the general public starts criticizing them. Even then, they only make surface level changes. Why don’t they deserve to die? If not for revenge, to prevent further abuse.
Alright. Let’s say I do believe that Prom Night happened the way everyone says it did and that Maddy is, in fact, very much still alive. The fact remains that she was an innocent bystander in a long overdue comeuppance for a town holding onto outdated ideologies. And instead of holding the community at large accountable for their actions, everyone has continued to place blame on the greatest victim, creating a monster out of a young girl and using her legacy as a scapegoat to avoid self-reflection.
— Chapter 29
But, as I listened to the descriptions of the carnage, I didn’t feel justification. Instead, I winced at the details of blood, vomit, and furniture crushing Maddy’s victims. This isn’t justice. It’s rageful retaliation. While understandable, it’s fruitless. I refuse to spoil the details, but the implied ending reinforces the old adage that the best revenge is living a happy life. Violence won’t bring you peace. But that doesn’t mean you should stay silent and take the abuse either.
The more I read Tiffany D. Jackson’s books, the more I enjoy her immersive, thought-provoking writing. The Weight of Blood is by far her best work, full of multi-dimensional characters and a plot that makes me reconsider the way I think and behave. If you have the means, I recommend listening to the audiobook so you can fully delve into Maddy’s story.
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