All American Boys

“I wasn’t a stand-in for Dad. Nobody could be that. When the IED got him in Afghanistan, he became an instant saint in Springfield. I wasn’t him. I’d never be him. But I was still supposed to try. That was my role: the dutiful son, the All-American boy with an All-American fifteen-foot deadeye jump shot and an All-American 3.5 GPA.”

Quinn introduces the idea of the “All-American boy,” which becomes important throughout the novel. Feeling he must live up to the example set by his dead father, Quinn creates a very traditional definition of an All-American young man, one who excels in sports and school and is loyal to his family. Quinn’s concept of what it means to be All-American extends beyond this rather stereotypical viewpoint as the book continues.

“‘And how many times have I told you and Spoony, I mean, since y’all were young we’ve been going over this. Never fight back. Never talk back. Keep your hands up. Keep your mouth shut. Just do what they ask you to do, and you’ll be fine.’”

Rashad’s father places the blame on Rashad for the beating he suffered. In David’s viewpoint, it’s the blacks’ responsibility to actively avoid taking on stereotypes or challenging the status quo to avoid being damaged by racism. David places the blame with the victims of racism, rather than with the perpetrators.

“Spoony had been dealing with this kind of crap for years. He’d never been beaten up, but he’d been stopped on the street several times, questioned by cops, asked to turn his pockets out and lift his shirt up, for no reason. He’d been followed around stores, and stared at on buses by women who clutched their purses tight enough to poke holes in the leather. He was always a suspect. And I knew, without him saying a word, that the one thing he never wanted, but was sure would eventually happen, was for his little brother—the ROTC art kid—to become one too. So there was nothing that was going to stop him from fighting this. There was nothing I could do to calm him down. This was not going away. This was not getting swept under the rug of ‘oh well.’ Not if Spoony had anything to do with it.” 

Spoony’s experience highlights how the effects of racism and stereotyping are much larger than the one incident Rashad has suffered. To be a black person in America is to be automatically branded a “suspect,” and Spoony is unwilling to accept this prejudice any longer.

“But what had always amazed me most about Guzzo’s brother, Paul, was how he had made time for me. I was ten when my father died, and it was Paul who’d taken me down to Gooch to practice. Gooch was the neighborhood park, but Paul’d get us down there so early, we’d have the whole court to ourselves. He showed me how to do the spider drill, how to dribble with two balls, how to tuck my elbows when I shot. But the man I’d watched grind a kid into the sidewalk—I don’t know—was like someone else. Someone I couldn’t place, some hulking animal stalking the shadows of my mind all night. I could hear his voice, and yet it wasn’t him. I could see his face, and yet it wasn’t him.”

Quinn is torn between the Paul he’s always known, a father figure Quinn could rely on, and the violent, “hulking animal” he witnessed beating Rashad. Here Quinn’s worldview begins to change, as he learns a person can be capable of goodness and kindness, yet also of extreme violence. Quinn must decide whether he can accept and forgive Paul’s actions as the novel continues.

“So Jill’s party, like every party, was my time to two-step without it being a march. My time to be at ease, and let the soul seep back into this soldier. Damn shame I didn’t make it. Instead some big-ass cop decided to have a fist party on my face. Y’know, normal stuff. No biggie. I’m just a punk-ass kid. I have no rights. Just got body slammed for no reason. Just got my life threated, while lying flat on the sidewalk. A broken nose, broken ribs, and a knee in the back is way more exciting than fine-ass girls checking for me (after they finished checking for English).”

This quote illustrates the senseless injustice of the violent act inflicted on Rashad. Rashad is denied the opportunity to enjoy a fun, relatively innocent Friday night party like a normal teenager. Because of racial profiling and police brutality, Rashad suffers injuries that change him forever.

“I felt like such an ass. I’d quickly convinced myself I had no idea who that kid with Paul was that night. And yeah, there were like a thousand kids in each grade at school, or whatever, but I did know him. Or know of him, really. I’d seen him—Rashad—in that uniform, and it’d made me think of my dad wearing his own at college. How my dad had looked proud in all those pictures.”

Quinn desires to distance himself from the beating he witnessed, as he “convinced himself” he didn’t know Rashad. However, the shared ROTC experience of Rashad and Quinn’s father indicates that the two boys are connected, and Quinn won’t be able to just walk away from the situation. The ROTC uniform also brings up the question of why a patriotic appearance brands Quinn’s father as an “All-American,” but not Rashad. Quinn—and other characters—will need to broaden their definition of what it means to be “All-American” in the aftermath of Rashad’s beating.

“What did we really gain by talking about this—Paul, Rashad, what happened—digging it up and making everyone look like shit?”

At this point in the novel, Quinn still questions whether conversations about racism are even valuable. Although Quinn doesn’t realize it yet, viewpoints like his—not overtly racist, but unwilling to deeply engage in questions of injustice—are what allow racism to endure in America.

“Maybe for this one practice we were all thinking only about the team: one unit, one thing, no parts, one whole, no problems, just one goal for one team, none of us thinking about race or racism, all of us color-blind and committed like evangelicals to the word ‘team,’ just like Coach wanted.

Maybe. But I doubted it. That’s what I wanted to think, but it wasn’t what was in my mind or gut. Instead I knew there was a problem, and I was beginning to think I was a part of it—whether I was in the damn video or not.”

Quinn realizes that race is a part of everything, even a basketball practice, and there is no way for Americans to simply become “color-blind.” Furthermore, Quinn is beginning to accept responsibility for his part in perpetuating a racist community. Even though he doesn’t overtly judge based on race, Quinn has previously refused to acknowledge that racism is a problem. This turning point allows Quinn to overtly reject prejudice and injustice and compels him to instigate change.

“‘What do you know, anyway? White boy like you can just walk away whenever you want. Everyone just sees you as Mr. All-American boy, and you can just keep on walking, thinking about other things. Just keep on living, like this shit doesn’t even exist.’”

English, an African-American character, succinctly defines Quinn’s white privilege. We see this privilege clearly in contrast to characters like English, who, like Rashad, have been targeted because of their race in one way or another and cannot simply walk away. This quote also brings up the novel’s inherent questioning of what it means to be an “All-American boy.” Here, English sees “All-American” as a surface quality with little deeper meaning, and certainly not as a term that encompasses all Americans.

“Now I was thinking about how, if I wanted to, I could walk away and not think about Rashad, in a way that English or Shannon or Tooms or any of the guys at school who were not white could not. Even if they didn’t know Rashad, even if, for some reason, they hated Rashad, they couldn’t just ignore what happened to him; they couldn’t walk away. They were probably afraid, too. Afraid of people like Paul. Afraid of cops in general. Hell, they were probably afraid of people like me. I didn’t blame them. I’d be afraid too, even if I was a frigging house like Tooms. But I didn’t have to be because my shield was that I was white. It didn’t matter that I knew Paul. I could be all the way across the country in California and I’d still be white, cops and everyone else would still see me as just a ‘regular kid,’ an ‘All-American’ boy. ‘Regular.’ ‘All-American.’ White. Fuck.”

In this quote, Quinn internalizes English’s message about white privilege and begins to see his world in a new light. Quinn is taking the challenging step of looking at the world, and at himself, through the eyes of those with drastically different experiences. For the first time he considers what it would be like to walk through the world in fear, and he realizes others may even be afraid of him. The leap Quinn makes in beginning to look beyond himself is a large part of his maturation and transformation throughout the novel.

“They went on and on, story after story about not trusting police officers because they always seemed to act like bullies. And even though there were times when they’d been helpful, the bad times…were BAD TIMES. And it just seemed like they didn’t…I don’t know. Like, they see us. But they don’t really see us.” 

Rashad describes his African-American friends’ experiences with “bully” police officers, and it becomes clear that the problems of racial profiling and police violence are much larger the single incident that affected Rashad. This quote illustrates the fact that characters are protesting not just what happened to Rashad, but a systemic problem of racism and injustice.

“I just sat there, dumbfounded. My dad, my dad, had paralyzed an unarmed kid, a black kid, and I had had no idea. My dad shot a kid. I mean, to me, my father was the model of discipline and courage. Sure, he was stern, and sometimes judgmental, but I always felt like he meant well. But to that kid—and now my head was reeling—to that kid, my dad was no different than Officer Galluzzo. Another trigger-happy cop who was quick to assume and even quicker to shoot.”

This quote indicates that prejudice can infiltrate even the race that is being stereotyped. Rashad’s father, AfricanAmerican himself, internalized the profile of young, black men as violent offenders to the point that he shot an innocent black youth. This quote also marks the point Rashad sees his father not as a “model of discipline,” but as a flawed human being. Rashad is growing up here, and although the truth is hard to accept, he and his father are forging a more honest relationship.

“I pulled out my sketch pad and started drawing like crazy, but it was hard—stupid damn tears kept wetting the page, they wouldn’t stop, but neither would I. So I kept going, letting the wet spread the lead in weird ways as I shaded and darkened the image. The figure of a man pushing his fist through the other man’s chest. The other figure standing behind, cheering. A few minutes more, and normally it would’ve been complete. A solid piece, maybe even the best I had ever made. But it wasn’t quite there yet. It was close, but still unfinished. I took my pencil, and for the first time broke away from Aaron Douglas’s signature style. Because I couldn’t stop—and I began to draw features on the face of the man having his chest punched through. Starting with the mouth.”

Rashad uses his art to make sense of and take back ownership of his experience; he is reclaiming power despite a violent situation he had no control over. The act of drawing forces Rashad to define his own identity, as he breaks from copying another artist’s style. In drawing a mouth on the figure that represents himself, Rashad refuses to remain silent.

“Well, where was I when Rashad was lying in the street? Where was I the year all these black American boys were lying in the streets? Thinking about scouts? Keeping my head down like Coach said? That was walking away. It was running away, for God’s sake. I. Ran. Away. Fuck that. I didn’t want to run away anymore. I didn’t want to pretend it wasn’t happening. I wanted to turn around and run right into the face of it.” 

Quinn makes a clear choice to engage in issues of racism and take part in the protest. He finally accepts the fact that just by turning the other way and focusing on his own concerns, he has contributed to racism. Now, Quinn must find the courage to head “right into the face” of the problem.

“It was like Jill had said. Nobody wants to think he’s being a racist, but maybe it was a bigger problem, like everyone was just ignoring it, like it was invisible. Maybe it was all about racism? I hated that shit, and I hated thinking it had so much power over all our lives—even the people I knew best. Even me.”

The novel presents a broader definition of racism: one can be racist not just through acts of overt discrimination, but by ignoring others’ acts of racism. Moreover, racism has power over all lives, including white ones. This implies that it is everybody’s responsibility to speak out against inequality.

“She paused, and then added, ‘What would your father say if he were here?’

She never invoked Dad. Even though the whole town whipped out their Saint Springfield cards whenever it was most convenient, Ma never did. Dad had been her high school sweetheart, her husband, and the father of her two boys, and so for her, that’s what came first. He wasn’t a symbol. He was just gone. Gone for seven years now, and Ma was frigging exhausted.

‘I don’t know,’ I said, working hard to keep my voice level. ‘But I know he stood up for what he believed in.’”

Here, Quinn develops a broader definition of being All-American and a new way to honor his father’s legacy. Like his father, Quinn will stand up for what he believes in—in this case, equal rights for all races. This quote also shows Quinn’s new maturity, as he sees both his mother and father in a new light. His father is a human, not a symbol, and his mother is a woman doing her best, despite many challenges. Seeing his parents as individuals, not just as his parents, marks an important step in Quinn’s journey toward adulthood.

“What about Dad? Talk about a man who died for his convictions. How many times did he re-up after 9/11? Three. I was old enough to know he wasn’t fearless. He’d probably been scared shitless every time he went back. He wasn’t strong because he wasn’t afraid. No, he was strong because he kept doing it even though he was afraid.” 

Quinn is afraid of the possible dangers of the protest, but he realizes his fear doesn’t make him weak; rather, looking to his father for inspiration, Quinn determines that acting in spite of fear displays true courage. This realization adds to Quinn’s new definition of “All-American”—being All-American does not mean being faultless and fearless, but rather standing up for one’s convictions no matter how difficult it is to do so.

“I’m white too—and that’s exactly why I was marching. I had to. Because racism was alive and real as shit. It was everywhere and all mixed up in everything, and the only people who said it wasn’t, and the only people who said, ‘Don’t talk about it’ were white. Well, stop lying. That’s what I wanted to tell those people. Stop lying. Stop denying. That’s why I was marching. Nothing was going to change unless we did something about it. We! White people! We had to stand up and say something about it too, because otherwise it was just like what one of those posters in the crowd outside school said: OUR SILENCE IS ANOTHER KIND OF VIOLENCE.”

This quote illustrates a main message of the novel: people who are privileged because of systemic racism must be the ones to instigate change in society. A culture of “lying” and “denying” has brought America to the point where police officers can target innocent people without repercussion, just because of society’s beliefs about race. Liars and deniers, not just the ones who perpetrate the violence, must take responsibility to create new hope for the future.

“I wondered if anybody thought what we were doing was unpatriotic. It was weird. Thinking that to protest was somehow un-American. That was bullshit. This was very American, goddamn All-American. I craned my head, trying to see Rashad. And seeing who I thought might be him, right next to his family and English, I couldn’t help wondering how, years from now, Rashad would be remembered.

The kid at the front of a march. Speaking truth to power. Standing up for injustice. Asking only to be seen and heard and respected like the citizen he was. Would he be thought of as the ‘All-American’ boy?” 

In this quote, Quinn expresses the power to protest, to speak freely and push for change, as a fundamental right—and even duty—of all Americans. Throughout the novel, Quinn has thought of himself as the “All-American boy,” but now he realizes that by fighting back against injustice, Rashad has become the true All-American. 

“‘Hey, Will,’ I said into the picture. ‘This is for you. Ma’s always telling us to take responsibility. That we have to live up to what Dad died for. We need to get good grades and go to a good college and take advantage of every damn minute of our lives because he died for us. I believe that. But I believe he died for this, too. If he died for freedom and justice—well, what the hell did he die for if it doesn’t count for all of us?’”

Quinn again affirms his father’s legacy and the true meaning of All-American here—American values should be guaranteed for all citizens regardless of race, and that is why Quinn is protesting. Moreover, Quinn asserts his belief in a message to his younger brother. Just like Quinn’s father passed down his values to Quinn, Quinn is passing on a legacy to a younger generation, but Quinn has expanded the definition of American values to create hope for a more equal and just future.

“In the bathroom, I stood at the sink, staring at my reflection. I brought my hands to my face and slowly peeled the tape and bandage back, revealing my nose. Still swollen. There was a knot on the top—a lump that changed the way my whole face looked. I turned my head sideways—bump looked even worse. I hated that damn bump, but I didn’t want people to see me all bandaged up like that. Not because I was embarrassed. Well, I was, a little. But more importantly, I wanted people to see me. See what happened. I wanted people to know that no matter the outcome, no matter if this day ended up as just another protest and Officer Galluzzo got off scot-free, that I would never be the same person. I looked different and I would be different, forever.”

In this quote, Rashad acknowledges the life-changing impact of the violence he has suffered, yet he also finds that he can choose how to respond to that violence and therefore reclaim his power. Rashad realizes that the protest is not about punishing the individual who treated him unjustly; rather, Rashad is taking on the much more important task of showing a community how racism has changed him.

“All I wanted to do was see the guy I hadn’t seen one week earlier. The guy beneath all the bullshit too many of us see first—especially white guys like me who just haven’t worked hard enough to look behind it all.” 

This quote represents both Quinn’s realization of how to combat racism—he, and other white Americans, must learn to look beneath the surface and see individuals rather than stereotypes—and Quinn’s own maturation as a young man. For Quinn, learning to truly see others, and taking the time and effort to do so, is an important part of growing up. For the nation, a deeper vision is an essential tool in the fight against racism.

“Those people. I hadn’t known any of them, and he probably hadn’t either. But I was connected to those names now, because of what happened to me. We all were. I was sad. I was angry. But I was also proud. Proud that I was there. Proud that I could represent Darnell Shackleford. Proud that I could represent Mrs. Fitzgerald—her brother who was beaten in Selma.” 

This quote indicates that some good has come out of what happened to Rashad. Because of his new connection to those impacted by racism, Rashad can represent injustice and galvanize his community in a way he couldn’t have before. As a result, Rashad is proud and reclaims a sense of personal power.