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Jason Mott Biography

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“Something akin to pride kreeps into his voice, but it's a hollow sort of pride. It's the pride of someone who's rarely proud of anything. It's the type of pride that can be knocked over with a feather, and so it rarely gets to shine in the face of the world. The little Black kid flashes those impossibly white teeth at me and he laughs and then he covers his smile and quells the laughter [...], and I know that he's spent his entire life being afraid to be happy.”

“Certain bodies don't belong to their inhabitants. Never have, never will again. A persistent, inescapable, and horrific truth known by millions of unsettled bodies. The Fear. It had always been there, but I could see it now. Could really recognize it. And once that happens, once you see it, you can't look away. Can't ever quiet it. Can't ever forget that you don't belong to yourself anymore, but to the hands, fists, cuffs, and bullets of a stranger.”

“There should be a word for the ability to stop crying about a past pain even though it's still in you. There should be a word for living. Yes, that's it. There should be a word for continuing to live when a part of you has died. There should be a word that sums that up. And the longer you live, the more that word should become a part of you. Because the thing of it is, every day that the person is missed feels longer and there's nothing you can do about it. Nothing you can do to share the long, beautiful days which they are not a part of.”

“Dylan leans in real slow. "I told you Europeans were different," he whispers. "No foolin'." The rest of the event goes about the same. The Italians come at me on after the other, leaving the softball questions at home. Nothing but the fastballs coming fast, hard, and inside. "How does your book fit into the neo-postmodern landscape?" one of them asks. Three rows back," I say, giving another patented chuckle. "Are you a Hegelian?" another asks. "Only with the ladies," I answer. Whoever said you have to know what a word means to be able to answer to it?”

“I’m not sure Black people can be happy in this world. There’s just too much of a backstory of sadness that’s always clawing at their heels. And no matter how hard you try to outrun it, life always comes through with those reminders letting you know that, more than anything, you’re just a part of an exploited people and a denied destiny and all you can do is hate your past and, by proxy, hate yourself”