From the disability rights advocate and creator of the #DisabledAndCute viral campaign, a thoughtful, inspiring, and charming collection of essays exploring what it means to be black and disabled in a mostly able-bodied white America.
Keah Brown loves herself, but that hadn’t always been the case. Born with cerebral palsy, her greatest desire used to be normalcy and refuge from the steady stream of self-hate society strengthened inside her. But after years of introspection and reaching out to others in her community, she has reclaimed herself and changed her perspective.
In The Pretty One, Brown gives a contemporary and relatable voice to the disabled—so often portrayed as mute, weak, or isolated. With clear, fresh, and light-hearted prose, these essays explore everything from her relationship with her able-bodied identical twin (called “the pretty one” by friends) to navigating romance; her deep affinity for all things pop culture—and her disappointment with the media’s distorted view of disability; and her declaration of self-love with the viral hashtag #DisabledAndCute.
By “smashing stigmas, empowering her community, and celebrating herself” (Teen Vogue), Brown and The Pretty One aims to expand the conversation about disability and inspire self-love for people of all backgrounds.
Keah Brown is a journalist and freelance writer from Western New York. Her work has appeared in Teen Vogue, Essence, Catapult, Harper’s Bazaar, and Lenny Letter among other publications. She is currently writing her debut essay collection “The Pretty One” slated for 2019 release via Atria Books.
What does it mean to live at the intersections of blackness, womanhood, and disability? In her admirable debut, The Pretty One, Keah Brown answers this question with heart, charm, and humor. Across twelve finely crafted essays, Brown explores the matter of representation in popular culture, the vulnerability of facing self-loathing and learning to love herself, the challenge of repairing fractured relationships with family, the yearning for romantic love. Through her words we see that Brown is not just the pretty one she is the magnificently human one.
Lemme just... Ok. This is going to be a life-changing book for some people. There are those who need to hear what Keah Brown has to say. I imagine those people are or have recently been young, unsure of themselves, and they don't like their bodies and/or skins. They may also be hopeless romantics. I want the audience that needs this book to find this book and I hope it is their everything.
I knew of Keah Brown from her #disabledandcute. She is not wrong in that hashtag; this lady is totes adorbs and she talks openly about what it's like to navigate a world designed for people who have an easy time getting around. She's got a sunny online persona and she's fun but also gentle and mostly honest. I say mostly because after listening to her read her book, I suspect there are some things she's hiding even from herself. I also have faith she'll figure those things out as she has more life experiences because she doesn't seem to be one to shy away from self-examination.
That said, I had a hard time getting through this. It came to me because Overdrive felt that since I'd listened to Bad Feminist, You Can't Touch My Hair: And Other Things I Still Have to Explain, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?, and The Last Black Unicorn, I would like this. They're all women of color whose experiences with racism, patriarchy, and pop culture have informed their world views. I figured that since I had read and enjoyed similar books, this could also be something I'd want to add to my physical bookshelves. Unfortunately, it wasn't.
These essays are long and overlapping in a repetitive way. Because she so often points out things like her love of cute clothes, the greatness of cheesecake, her desire to be in a romantic relationship, her love for her friends, and how much she used to hate herself and others but doesn't anymore, she comes across as young and inexperienced. It's cute! So cute. Cute is fun and I love cute; I also really wanted some of these essays to go beyond cute and into more depth. These read like well-written sophomore finals. There's some meat to them, plenty of introspection, but not a lot of sharing the lessons learned from said introspection and how they matter in a broader context or how the world around her impacts what she's learned and how she'll adjust going forward. The final chapter is all about affirmation, Again, this is going to be an incredibly powerful statement for those who need to hear it and I really want those people to get their hands on this book.
Recommended to people who wish Phoebe Robinson and Tiffany Haddish were a little less raunchy and Samantha Irby was a little less focused on bodily functions as well as for people who think Mindy Kaling is just the cutest and Roxane Gay is the most honest black feminist out there. Also recommended to everyone who likes cute.
I think I understand what happened here... This is one of several books I've read recently where the blurb mentions that the author started a popular social media hashtag and the subtext is that perhaps that's the origin of the book deal... I mean I get it. As a publisher, even if you think a small percentage of a person's followers might buy their book, you're still looking at a certain number of guaranteed sales. It's a safe bet. However, the books that come out of these types of deals tend to read VERY unedited, like first drafts. So this essay collection was unfortunately repetitive, unfocused, and surprisingly conventional.
I don't fault Brown at all for this. Even being a professional writer, it's tough to make the transition to a full memoir. It's the job of the publishing team to guide and focus the work, and sure you could just print whatever knowing you can rely on that number of guaranteed sales, but that seems like a highly unethical way to treat a first time author excited about finding a new audience and reach for their work, especially one from multiple overlapping underrepresented communities. As Brown states herself, we need more books by disabled authors, you can't be what you can't see, etc. Brown has a unique perspective that was hinted at but not fully polished, and I'm sure her activism goes much deeper than the Tumblr-basic primer presented here. I can't help but wonder what this book might have looked like if she was encouraged to go deeper in a certain direction, or not feel like she needed to do the work of educating her audience about the basics of disability before sharing her personal experiences.
So hopefully this is a springboard to better things for Brown. Published is published. In spite of my disappointment with this particular book, I wish her well and will certainly check in to see where her career has taken her in the future.
This book is a memoir/essays by a black disabled woman with so much honesty, truth and power in the pages! Honestly I wish I knew how to describe it, but all I can say is the affect it had on me, an afab (nonbinary) disabled person. I don't know what it's like to be black, i'm white. I learned a lot from this book, from where I didn't relate personally but also from where I did, with being disabled (though with different medical issues) as well as the talk about depression and suicidal ideation.
It showed me that though i've already been working on having disability pride and unlearning internalized ableism, as someone who has also been disabled my entire life and always will be, I still have a lot more to learn/unlearn. Some of it felt like a much needed punch to the gut! It wasn't easy to hear some of it, but I know I needed it.
This was incredibly emotional for me, and some of it i'm just like "how do I get there?". I'm still working on a lot of things, but life is a journey and as long as i'm working on it, that's what matters.
I'm also about the same age as her so some of the references to pop culture was a bit nostalgic for me.
I need to make a list of "books I read, loved and don't own and NEED to buy my own copy" and put this on the list! As I read it via Scribd.
On one hand, this is such an important topic that it should be explored by everyone. If I could, I’d give this book to entire communities of people for free. I’d translate it in every language. I’d make it a mandatory reading in schools.
The author is a beautiful person not only on the inside but also on the outside. We definitely need more role models like her in this inhospitable and judgmental world.
There are some chapters in this book that will stay with me for awhile now—they have burned into my soul.
On the other hand, the text is quite repetitive and I could not finish the book. I read about 60%, then started skipping paragraphs, and then had to give it up completely (sadly!) I just cannot stay interested if the author repeats the same thoughts over & over, over & over & over & over again. It’s like: “I get it; yep I got that; got it; mhmm; yep; again? Not again!”
If I were the editor for this book, I’d help the author define the topics and keep them as distinct as possible. Unfortunately most had blended in.
A really powerful and moving essay collection about being disabled, about being black and disabled and being invisible in and to the world around you, and about learning to fall in love with yourself. Keah's voice is really great and she's wildly vulnerable. She also invites you, as reader, to be vulnerable with her.
Finding essay collections about disability -- and writing about it more broadly -- from the voice of a person of color is so rare. This book is a necessary one, as much as it's a treat.
In disability and race activism there is a very important place for rage. Keah Brown shows us that there is also a place for youth and playfulness. Brown is as clear-eyed about the nuances of many-fronted discrimination as any disability/race/gender intersectional activist. She is also aware of the injuries her life has inflicted on herself and her relationships. But she makes the political choice to tackle this pain and ugliness with cuteness. With her smile, her youth, her #disabledandcute hashtag, she frames the discourses of disability, race and gender in terms that are both crystal clear and intensely palatable to 20- and 30-somethings and to pretty much everybody who wants to learn.
Keah Brown changed my life. Well, that may be a bit dramatic, but her memoir The Pretty One completely transformed my perspective on disability from a narrative of brokenness in need of fixing to a theology of a purposeful state of being. “Disability is not monolithic...we should be seen as human beings with our own autonomy.”
The Pretty One held the mirror up to my own biases and introduced me to ableist discrimination, a distorted sense of perfection of the human body and discomfort caused by the existence of those with disabilities. It is behaving as if disability were a hindrance to intelligence and breakthroughs instead of an aide. However, “to understand is to recognize humanity in what you yourself may not be able to explain without having to see yourself as disabled to do so.”
As a Christian, I was particularly discomfited and convicted when Keah tackled the church’s misguided teachings on disability and fear. “We often hear of one (disability) as a catalyst or a punishment to the other (fear) or vice versa, thus leading to the idea of cure as a safety net from the wrath of God, meaning that if disability can be cured it could me that we’d (the disabled) be spared from the wrath of God.” Many people believe that disability is a damage to be cured and that prayer is the antidote; they assume that physical healing that all disabled people can hope and want for. This is skewed on multiple levels-first this belief presents disability as a curse rather than a uniqueness, second it portrays prayer as a means to an end rather than communication with the Creator, and third it presents healing as a genie in a bottle, the magic that conforms humanity into a uniform perspective of physical perfection. Perfection is packaged as the ideal of being able-bodied and ableist in nature. The pastor prays over the people in the hopes that God will rid them of their disability. But God didn’t give us our body just to cure us of it.
“‘I thought I deserved a cure, a miracle like those described in the Bible. If God is a healer, why won’t he heal me?’ The better question is not ‘How can we cure disability?’ But ‘Why can’t we just accept people for who they are?’ I know now that there is a purpose behind His every action and the actions of His Son, and I don’t have to look to be healed in order for my own happiness and a life lived well...If adventure is the mark of a life well lived, then many of us are right on track without the inherent ableism and hatred that comes with the idea that we must desire to be rid of parts of ourselves to be whole.”
I had always perceived the miracles of Scripture as getting a second chance at life, as if every moment before that one had been no moment at all. Keah, on the other hand, pictured God saying to her, “There, now you can stop praying away your disability and learn to love yourself...I won’t cure you because there is nothing to cure.” I was stunned. This was the God of grace that resonated with me; this was the God of the Scriptures. In the stories of the Bible, there are many people with disabilities who use them to help other people, thus fulfilling their purpose. Through her faith in God, Keah’s goal changed from finding a cure to fighting for equal rights and wellness in this world--which all disabled people deserve without question.
As an elementary teacher, my students are my purpose, my passion, my reason for being. So when I read Keah’s admonition for educators, I was compelled by her experience and words of wisdom. “I worry most for the disabled kids with special education teachers who believe that God will rid us of disability but that we must ‘suffer’ with it on earth first, and for those who view the disabled kids they teach as burdens while expecting to be considered heroes for teaching them.” As teachers, we hold profound power and influence over the students in our charge. It is imperative that we wield our roles wisely and educate ourselves so that we can effectively educate those entrusted to us. The Pretty One should be on the required reading list for all educators--and students alike!
“We love Rihanna in this house forever and always, amen.”
I was excited to read this book, a series of essays by a young Black woman with cerebral palsy. The book is important, this author's voice is important, & it's important for people without disabilities to read books by people with them. There are lots of good nuggets in here - thrilling glimpses of beautiful writing - but (God, I hate saying this) the book, taken as a whole, felt like a very rough first draft. It needed a better editor, someone to trim & rearrange & focus - & without it, some of the essays bordered on unreadable. Honestly, I'm mad about it, because this author, her book, & the topic deserve better.
I initially accepted the pitch for this because I am obsessed with all things pop culture and because this is a voice that I don't really hear that often. (I read books about and by Black authors, but I don't know off the top of my head how many books by disabled authors I've read. Which means I don't read enough of them. I would like recommendations.)
I'm so glad I did. Keah Brown and I have a lot of pop culture in common and I got almost all of her references. I had that sort of giddy "ME TOO!" reaction so many times in this book and it felt like I was making a new best friend.
But that's not the real value here (although definitely come for the pop culture references, because they are perfection). Instead, it's in her candid discussions about how it feels to be disabled (her words) in a world that not only is clearly not meant for you but which seems to purposely ignore you (and best) and grind you down every chance it gets. The act of loving yourself and being kind to yourself becomes an actual revolutionary act, one of the bravest things you can do.
I loved this book so much and I hope this is the start of a long writing career. Keah Brown is my new favorite. Highly recommended.
This was a great read! She writes honestly - and hilariously - about being a black woman with cerebral palsy. It was refreshing to have a different point of view, but also relatable in the things she shared that she has struggled with. She is a delightful writer, I hope she writes more!
Undoubtedly helpful and necessary to many, but this didn't do much for me. The topics were mostly interesting and important, but the writing was repetitive and often very long-winded and drifted away from the point a lot. I enjoy my essays a little tighter and less blog-ish, so this got quite boring and distracting at times. I respect and enjoy Keah's perspective on disability and the many issues faced by the disabled and POC communities, but honestly I just really can't stand taking this kind of "what I know now" kind of life advice from people around my age, lmao. I had the same problem with Carrie Hope Fletcher's life advice book, except she was even younger and had even less insight tbh...
So yeah, this book's existence is a definite net positive for the world, but I didn't really get anything new out of it.
I appreciated reading a book from the point of view of a black disabled woman. I like how she shared the way she connected with certain music and books as a youth because I feel we all have experienced that regardless of who we are. I also appreciate how she honestly shares her likes in pop culture AND how they are harmful or not inclusive of people such as herself with a disability. I did find some parts lacking in depth and a little rambling. But overall I am glad to have read it and hope that it reaches audiences far and wide especially to those who are disabled and black so that they see representation of someone like themselves.
This was such a great collection of essays by Keah Brown, a young Black woman with cerebral palsy and the creator of the hashtag #disabledandcute - who shares her experiences growing up as a person of color and a disability. This book is full of important insights about learning to love yourself and overcoming the many obstacles of life in a very ablest society!
As a fellow person with a disability, one that often allows me to "pass," I related to many of her experiences. I also really appreciated the uniqueness of her experiences and it was nice to read a disability memoir by someone other than a white man in a wheelchair. We need more books like this one that illustrate the broad spectrum of disabilities and experiences!
I loved how vulnerable Keah gets in her book, opening up about how much she yearns to find romantic love and how challenging that is for a person with a disability. She also goes into depth about her own struggle to love her own body, in a world that doesn't represent her in mainstream media and doesn't value disabled bodies.
Highly recommended and enjoyable, told with wit and humor and sprinkled with lots of pop culture references. This book would be perfect for fans of Amanda Leduc's Disfigured or Lindy West's Shrill. Great on audio read by the author too!
Favorite quotes: "Pity is not a thing I need, even now. I give pity so much power to control my daily life. The lesson it took me the longest to learn is that as a disabled person, what I need in place of pity, which does absolutely nothing to advance the community, are my rights, respect and opportunity....Together we can change the attitudes about and surrounding disability, as long as we remember that pity helps no one, while empathy, love and a willingness to fight, help everyone."
"I know now that people with disabilities can be and are loved and I have to remember that when I feel myself giving up or getting down on myself."
"There is also the fear that I am disappointing my community of people with disabilities by admitting that I don't know how to dismiss the internalized ableism of believing that an able bodied body is better than my disabled body. If only because it is desirable to a wider range of people and doesn't tire as quickly as mine. Why are people not more open to the possibility of dating someone with a disability? I ask, but do not know."
As a middle-aged white disabled woman, I don’t think I was part of the target audience for this book. I think it is aimed more at young black disabled women. It might be helpful for a tween girl struggling to accept herself, but I didn’t get much out of it and wish I would have spent my time reading something else.
I thought this book was more boring and repetitious than wise and witty, and I couldn’t relate to the author’s pop culture references, but your mileage may vary. It sounds like the author has an interesting career, and I would have preferred if she wrote more about that rather than prattling on and on about her love affair with chairs. I suppose that was supposed to be funny, but I wasn’t amused. And why does the author have to mention her love of cheesecake so many times? What’s the point?
If you haven’t thought much about privilege or representation in the media, then you might benefit from the author’s impassioned arguments for more diverse representation. I found her discussion of clothing lines for the disabled interesting.
I was provided an ARC through NetGalley that I volunteered to review.
I can’t say enough good things about this memoir and about Keah Brown. I was so excited to read this and she did not disappoint. Heartfelt and funny, this is one of those books that feels like a best friend. I’m excited to be sharing this one with my friends!
Read this one for a bookclub and enjoyed it. Cried a couple times especially over the music parts about Paramore and Demi Lovato who are two bands I've loved for a long time!
Born with cerebral palsy and the creator of the viral hashtag #DisabledAndCute, Keah Brown is not one to let her disability slow her down. In her debut collection of essays, The Pretty One, Brown tells her story of what’s it like to be Black and disabled. This read was truly an experience outside of my own. I laughed, cried and couldn’t get enough of Brown’s positivity and determination. I am so happy this book exists. This is a must read!
Thank you, Atria Books & Netgalley, for gifting me a copy in exchange for an honest review.
There are some excellent points made but I couldn't help but feel like I was reading a stack of high school essays.... And then there are the comments basically saying it is the white-not-disabled population's fault that there aren't more black and disabled people directing, writing, or acting in movies... I agree there should be more diversity but there has to be willingness and ability on both sides.
I really enjoyed this. The strength of it is the internal questions and debates with ones self about being disabled. Physical disabilities and mental illnesses have a lot of differences, but there is a commonality in the internalization of how we are perceived and how we perceive ourselves that I found really helpful to think about while reading.
A memoir from Keah Brown, a young American black woman with cerebral palsy, who is an advocate for her intersectional experiences.
Told as individual essays, each chapter tackles one aspect of Keah's journey of self acceptance, her love of TV and music, her search for love - being romantic, social and self - and her dark days of low self-esteem and suicidal ideology.
The advocacy sections are the most powerful, from reviewing her own internalised ableism, to seeking representation of her black disabled body and presence of the movie and television screens she watched as a teen and young adult. Keah speaks of her writing work, and dreams and goals for the future ahead.
4.5 stars. This book was a good memoir, however it got quite repetitive after a while. I'm also not a religious person, nor am I someone who knows a lot about pop culture, so those parts fell a bit flat for me.
Still quite a decent read, although it could have been shorter so it wouldn't be so repetitive. Highly recommend it to abled bodied people and white disabled people!
Trigger Warnings: bullying, ableist slurs, disordered eating, depression, suicidal thoughts, self-depreciation, grief, loss of a loved one, graphic depiction of a suicidal attempt. *This book contains spoilers for the movie Love, Simon
I truly wish I had a physical copy (and will probably get one at some point) because I wish I could've tabbed and highlighted the HECK out of this book. I resonated with so much of it but damn it has so many important conversations inside.
This book taught me a lot about how to dismantle my language that can be harmful to disabled folks & how to be an accomplice to the disabled community through my actions. Keah talks about how much the government has failed disabled people and made them feel invisible. Accessibility is a huge conversation in this novel and it angers me to hear how much the disabled community is wronged in our world.
Keah discusses how she strives to become a TV or film writer to receive the representation she and the disabled community as a whole deserve. She has a whole chapter dedicated to the poor representation of able-bodied people playing disabled characters on TV or in films & how harmful the representation is (i.e. Glee, Everything, Everything, and ??). She discusses how through the media's portrayal, ableism exists. Able-bodied people begin to believe that all disabled people want to be "free" or hate their bodies which isn't the case in the slightest. I'm so grateful for Keah's book and her words.
My favorite chapter was about one of my favorite bands, Paramore. Keah talks about how her love for Paramore and Demi Lovato got her through some hard times in her life (+ depression) and I couldn’t relate more. Paramore became a crucial part of my development in high school and they still remain one of my favorite bands.
This book is a great start to helping able-bodied people becoming anti-ableist. Also, if you're struggling with depression or self-esteem issues, Keah has a great essay for the last chapter about "it's okay, not to be okay" and learning how to manage depression.
Quotes: “It is a different kind of beast to spend so much time with your thoughts that you create a whole new life that you are convinced is better in every way than the one you are living.” "I am tired of accepting scraps as representation," "Progress is remembering that breaks from pain are not only recommended but necessary, that finding joys in life despite systemic oppression can save lives"." "When you have no idea that the world is a place that may judge you because of a thing you can't change, it is jarring when you realize that not only is it a possibility but it's a certainty"."
I received an advanced readers copy in exchange for an honest review.
This is exactly the book we need right now. Not only does it inform and challenge stigma against people with disabilities, it is a meaningful story of the author’s journey to see herself as cute AND disabled. In a world that does not always love us, we need to love ourselves. We need to celebrate our own beauty in order to have the strength to fight the world’s ugly
I’ve decided to not rate memoirs or personal essays anymore.
This was really interesting, but also frustrating at times bc of how much it would’ve benefited from more editing and just cleaning up some of the areas. It wasn’t the most disjointed thing I’ve ever read, but it didn’t feel cohesive either, especially for a collection of essays over the same two or three topics.
I admire how Keah Brown doesn’t shy away from the messier areas of her life and experiences, and how she’s very honest ab the harm inflicted on her by others, as well as harm inflicted by her towards others and herself. There wasn’t as much exploration in areas such as healthcare or legislation, but I wasn’t really expecting that. What I wish would’ve been explored more is her relationship with her intersecting identities and how she is affected by the reach of them, aside from the standard “learning to love herself,” which was great but not given much more depth than that.
I think this is an okay entry point for people who know very little ab those living with CP, or want to understand a bit more ab allyship for those in the disabled community.
I was eager to read this book after I watched the documentary Crip Camp. Books by people who have disabilities don't often make it on my reading list because I've failed to seek them out. However, Keah Brown's writing style didn't work for me. Her first chapter is about her best friends, chairs. She personifies types of chairs -- her couch, cinema seating, mall benches -- to the point where I was straight up confused. If I don't understand her relationship with chairs first, then her making them into boyfriends or buddies adds another layer of "huh?" The chairs chapter was repetitive, and as I skimmed her topic sentences, I saw "I love chairs" too many times for me to feel like I wanted to continue investing my time in this memoir. I'm going to see out Judy Heumann's new book and am happy to take recommendations!
We need Keah Brown to be in all the writers’ rooms, please and thanks. I have never given much thought to pop culture—probably because as a white able-bodied cisgender straight woman I see myself represented EVERYwhere so I have never had to think twice?!—so I really appreciate Keah’s take on media and representation.
She covers all things light and all things heavy, writing as much about her favorite movies as she does about her relationship with depression. In doing so she offers a glimpse into her experience as a Black disabled bisexual woman. She is as multifaceted as she hopes pop culture one day will be, and I would love for her to be a leading voice in shaping the future of the media we consume.
Her writing managed to both make me laugh and also punched me in the gut with lines like: “The ways in which we accept the deaths of human beings simply because of disabilities should frighten everyone.”
These essays were a joy to read. You can feel the author's authenticity and spirit on every page. Ms. Brown does not shy away from showing us her inner most thoughts and experiences as a black, disabled woman who does not let her disability define her as a person. She takes us through the experiences that have had the most impact on her life, and have helped her develop her most authentic self. I especially loved her use of literary devices such as metaphors, to talk about certain things; like how important chairs are in her everyday life (this was one of my favourites). This book is uplifting, honest, insightful, and victorious. Highly recommend it if you are looking for something inspirational to read.