Ta-Nehisi Coates

That it is highly likely they will be viewed as a threat. That it is likely that they will be set against each other. That they will be bugged. It’s worth talking to some of the leaders in the Muslim communities here in New York about what the NYPD did to them under Bloomberg.

What do you think of the recent schism on the left (or maybe just the far left?) about economic populism and “identity politics”?

Think it’s silly. I guess I’d be put in the ID politics camp. But there is really nothing in the world-view of, say, Bernie Sanders I actually disagree with. I’d like a guaranteed income, single-payer health care, a stronger safety net, etc. The problem is the temptation to paper over historically fraught issues to achieve that is tempting. And you always see that on the left. Whether with Clinton’s “rising tide” rhetoric, with Obama’s adoption of that notion (see the archives [here]), or with Sanders.

It’s disappointing to see the senator endorse the charge of “political correctness.” It’s disappointing to see him invoke his own identity as coming from the white working class immediately after the election, and then a few weeks later attack identity politics and candidates standing up and saying “Vote for me, I’m a woman.” This is how the attacks on ID politics work. It’s fine for Sanders to invoke his own. It’s a problem when others do the same.

I also think Hillary Clinton was a very unfortunate vessel for the kind of complaints that folks in the “identity politics” camp typically lodge. Her skills as a politician aside, I think her own history provoked a great deal of skepticism among people like me who actually come from that generation that was written off as “super-predators,” who remember the crime bill, who remember welfare reform. I think that made it easy for those who were (rightly) concerned about Clinton’s speeches, for instance, to throw out the causes Clinton adopted right along with her.

Which is a bigger concern for you, Trump’s agenda or the upcoming legislative session?

Both. They’re one and the same. This does not end well. For anyone.

I don’t feel much of one. I’m immensely proud of BLM, for instance. The only time I felt distance was during the campus protests. But that’s not generational. It’s because I went to an HBCU [historically black college or university] and so couldn’t directly relate to, say, having to walk past a hall named after a white supremacist every day. But that’s just because of my experiences. I think the kids are all right.

I’m a white guy who went to an HBCU (Del-State). I thought it was a great experience, but there was definitely a mixed response to my presence on some days. In recent years, at least as far as Del-State is concerned, there are more white folks going to HBCUs. Do you think this is good, bad, or no big deal?

Sure, it’s a good thing. I always thought of Howard being defined by its mission, not by racist exclusion. There is historical precedent for this. A historian recently told there was a time at the end of the 19th/early-20th century when Howard was the only place in the D.C. area that would train women to be doctors. The result was that, for a time, Howard was actually the largest producers of white women doctors in the region.

That’s right on mission. These places weren’t created to be the inverse of segregated universities. In fact, HBCUs have never been segregated. Howard, specifically, was created to educate and create a class of people invested in the ideals of justice and equality.

I can’t speak for Del-State. But I don’t fear white students coming to Howard. I think it’s great. We need more. And then we need other non-black institutions— not just higher ed—to follow that same example with black and brown folks.

As for whatever raised eyebrows you received, I’d say, while it isn’t right, ultimately, that’s good too. America is on permanent raised-eyebrow status toward those of us who are black. It’s not awful to get to see how that might feel.

What’s the best way for a white person to be an ally and advocate for social justice while de-centering oneself?

I don’t know. This isn’t really what I’d ask of anyone. I know the vocabulary here is popular. But it’s not really the kind I’d use or ask be used around me.

I think it’s really important to be conscious of yourself and the world around you. For me, that meant reading a lot and reporting. I don’t know that white people need to be “allies” so much as understand that any black struggle in America is ultimately a struggle for the large country. “Ally” presumes a kind of distance that I am not sure exists.

People sort of went crazy when BTWAM came out. I’m happy a bunch of people read it. I’m happy it touched so many people. I’m less happy that it became an object for certain folks, or was discussed that way. I’m less happy that journalists started scrolling through my kid’s Instagram account.

It’s been a year of adjustment. The good news is I think I understand now. The rules are different. I can’t do things like I used to. I’m not “one of the folks” anymore. I kinda had to accept that. Was very hard to.

I can only imagine that was difficult—not just the specific risks, but having to reorient your way of carrying yourself both as a writer and person to accommodate and adjust to that sudden level of attention. It’s interesting to me that you became noteworthy in part and while interacting very directly with your audience, which always appealed to the punk fan in me, but also that you never seemed to hold yourself apart or above your readers and commentators.

So it's hard not to notice when you bought the house that the attention had a specific edge to it, in much the same way that the critiques of BTWAM or “The Case for Reparations” had an edge to it. Part of watching your career has sort of been watching your room to maneuver or margin for error shrink, even as the critiques—particularly from other writers—become more personalized and less focused or astute. I don’t know that there's really a question in there, just observations from being a reader for the past six or seven years. Your growth as a public intellectual and writer has been tremendous and some of the attention you’ve gotten has been warranted, but it’s sad to see how you becoming more widely known and noteworthy enables some of the worst reactions.

It’s just a fact of “winning.” That’s what it is. I won. I became a “successful” writer. And this is part of what comes with it. My job is to make sure that I don’t let any of that—good or bad—corrupt the things that I love: writing, my health, and my family.

Hi Mr. Coates, this is the artist formerly known as Horde Centurion Erik Vanderhoff. I’ve been reading you since 2009, and I have to say, it’s been fascinating watching you grow as a thinker and a writer. The time period where you felt brave and curious enough to share that growth in real time through your blog at The Atlantic and interacting so directly with your commenters was a really special thing, something I’ve not seen reproduced and am not sure could be. Now, as a member of the moderator team at TAD, I’ve come to really appreciate the sheer amount of effort curating the Horde must have entailed for you.

As with all things so special, it had a short life. I’m wondering if you could verify a suspicion of mine: Did the Horde sort of sow its own seeds of its demise? Was there a point where you realized that the Horde was no longer providing the challenge and education it had in the past? I’ve always felt that we moved beyond deep discussion to a more insular community of personality, and that such things invariably attract discord from without

I never expected my writing to become as popular as it did. You don’t make a case for reparations thinking “Oh yeah, people are gonna love this.” I didn’t see that coming. That, more than anything, killed the blogging. It became impossible to talk. Just too many people.

Do you have a question for us?

I just want you all to know that I’m sorry I had to leave you. It was not a case of me feeling like I’d outgrown the space or anything. Just became impossible to protect it as such.

Yeah, I mean, because of the kind of work I’m doing write now it’s mostly in comics. Kelly Sue DeConnick’s Bitch Planet is a huge inspiration. Chelsea Cain’s Mockingbird was a book far from my own, but I adored it. Yona Harvey and I are cooking up some stuff. And obviously Roxane, who is just a force of nature.

Also, I think the new She-Hulk book looks really, really, really good.

There’s actually been some criticism of the new She-Hulk book, in that a lot of women don’t particularly want every female Marvel character to be defined by trauma and violence. Especially as you’re dealing with violence against women in BP, do you have any thoughts on that?

I always answer this sort of question by the argument that there should be more characters. I think there are some options here, though—Moongirl, Ms. Marvel, Captain Marvel, Silk, Gwenpool. There are female leads in several of the team books like Inhumans and X-Men. I think the current IvX series is basically led by two women.

In this specific case though, I’m not sure what you do. I mean, her cousin really was killed. They were close. That probably would be traumatic. Marvel brought in a woman to write the book and (I think) draw it also. I’m not sure what else they should have done here. I like the book. I think it’s quiet and subtle.

Beyond that, I’d say that superhero comics, themselves, are largely a response to trauma. Spider-Man is responding to the death of his Uncle Ben (among other deaths). The X-Men are responding to the trauma of discrimination and visions of genocide. Captain America is responding to the death of almost everyone he ever loved. Mockingbird was responding to rape in the recent series. Black Panther is responding to the trauma of the destruction of his kingdom.

And so on ...

What motivated this particular engagement with feminism in your comic books? Why there and not somewhere else? What prompted the collaboration with Roxane Gay?

I don’t know. It was the next thing I was doing. It’s not really a conscious thing, like that. Comic books have a long, fraught history with sexism. And so I felt, like, that was part of my inheritance as a comic-book writer. The debates are so much a part of the culture. And then there were some things about Black Panther, specifically, that made it the space to do it—the Dora Milajae’s position, the fact that most of the men around him were dead, the fact that in wars, rape is so often used as a weapon.

Who are your interlocutors with respect to feminism and womanism? Who are you in conversation with who will push back against the sexism in your own thinking and writing?

I don’t know. The only people who usually have input on my writing are my wife and my editor. I’m not in conversation with anyone, except the people I report on and the people I work with.

The pushback is everywhere. People review my comic books. People review every article I write—The Atlantic even publishes them. A great deal of the critique of Between the World and Me was from a feminist perspective. bell hooks pushed back, among others.

Some of that has value. Some of it does not. I try my best to separate the wheat from the chaff.