Book Review: The 1619 ProjectBy Crystal Petry
- Crystal Petry
- Apr 15
- 2 min read
It took me over two years to finish The 1619 Project—not because it wasn’t brilliant, but because it was. This book wasn’t a quick read or a casual flip-through on a Sunday afternoon. It was a journey—emotional, spiritual, and deeply personal. I had to pause, cry, reflect, and then return when I felt ready again. That alone speaks to the power of what Nikole Hannah-Jones and the brilliant contributors have created.
Reading The 1619 Project was like being handed a mirror and being told: “See your truth. All of it.” It enlightened me in ways no textbook ever has. It laid bare the long, twisted path African Americans have traveled—from the first stolen bodies brought to this soil in 1619, to our fight for freedom, justice, and the fullness of our humanity today.
What truly struck me was how much of our present is still tethered to the legacy of slavery. This book revealed the invisible strings that still bind our government, voting system, and even our tax structures to America’s original sin. These aren’t just remnants of the past—they are blueprints still in use.
And yet, this book isn’t just about oppression. It’s about complexity. It’s about truth. I was surprised to find nuance in the people I thought I understood. Some white leaders who owned enslaved people also made major contributions to American democracy. This doesn’t excuse their inhumanity, but it does complicate the narrative, reminding me that history isn’t black and white—it’s layered, painful, and human.
The poetry—raw, intimate, and beautiful—felt like it was written for us and by us. And the photos? The pictures of Black families, Black joy, Black resistance—they brought a smile to my face every time. They were small but mighty affirmations that we’ve always been here, and we've always been more than just our suffering.
This book didn’t just inform me—it transformed me. It gave me the courage to keep reading, keep learning, and keep honoring the voices of our ancestors. Though our history is heartbreaking and soul-stirring, it is ours—and it is worth every tear, every pause, and every smile.
I encourage anyone—especially Black readers—to give this book the time it deserves. Let it sit with you. Let it speak to you. Let it lead you to more. Because our history matters. Our story matters. And it deserves to be told by us, for us, and with us.
Comments