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How We Fight For Our Lives
Goodreads Choice Award
Nominee for Readers' Favorite Memoir & Autobiography (2019)From award-winning poet Saeed Jones, How We Fight for Our Lives is a stunning coming-of-age memoir written at the crossroads of sex, race, and power.
“People don’t just happen,” writes Saeed Jones. “We sacrifice former versions of ourselves. We sacrifice the people who dared to raise us. The ‘I’ it seems doesn’t exist until we are able to say, ‘I am no longer yours.’ ”
Haunted and haunting, Jones’s memoir tells the story of a young, black, gay man from the South as he fights to carve out a place for himself, within his family, within his country, within his own hopes, desires, and fears. Through a series of vignettes that chart a course across the American landscape, Jones draws readers into his boyhood and adolescence—into tumultuous relationships with his mother and grandmother, into passing flings with lovers, friends and strangers. Each piece builds into a larger examination of race and queerness, power and vulnerability, love and grief: a portrait of what we all do for one another—and to one another—as we fight to become ourselves.
Blending poetry and prose, Jones has developed a style that is equal parts sensual, beautiful, and powerful—a voice that’s by turns a river, a blues, and a nightscape set ablaze. How We Fight for Our Lives is a one of a kind memoir and a book that cements Saeed Jones as an essential writer for our time.
Listening Length: 5 hours and 30 minutes
“People don’t just happen,” writes Saeed Jones. “We sacrifice former versions of ourselves. We sacrifice the people who dared to raise us. The ‘I’ it seems doesn’t exist until we are able to say, ‘I am no longer yours.’ ”
Haunted and haunting, Jones’s memoir tells the story of a young, black, gay man from the South as he fights to carve out a place for himself, within his family, within his country, within his own hopes, desires, and fears. Through a series of vignettes that chart a course across the American landscape, Jones draws readers into his boyhood and adolescence—into tumultuous relationships with his mother and grandmother, into passing flings with lovers, friends and strangers. Each piece builds into a larger examination of race and queerness, power and vulnerability, love and grief: a portrait of what we all do for one another—and to one another—as we fight to become ourselves.
Blending poetry and prose, Jones has developed a style that is equal parts sensual, beautiful, and powerful—a voice that’s by turns a river, a blues, and a nightscape set ablaze. How We Fight for Our Lives is a one of a kind memoir and a book that cements Saeed Jones as an essential writer for our time.
Listening Length: 5 hours and 30 minutes
6 pages, Audible Audio
First published October 8, 2019
841 people are currently reading
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About the author
Saeed Jones
6 books1,431 followersSaeed Jones is the author of the memoir How We Fight for Our Lives, winner of the 2019 Kirkus Prize for Nonfiction, the 2020 Stonewall Book Award/Israel Fishman Non-fiction Award, and a 2020 Lambda Literary Award. He is also the author of the poetry collection Prelude to Bruise, winner of the 2015 PEN/Joyce Osterweil Award for Poetry and the 2015 Stonewall Book Award/Barbara Gittings Literature Award. The poetry collection was a finalist for the 2015 National Book Critics Circle Award, as well as awards from Lambda Literary and the Publishing Triangle in 2015. He lives in Columbus, Ohio.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 2,883 reviews
March 2, 2019
In his astonishing, unparalleled memoir, How We Fight For Our Lives, Saeed Jones writes of making his body into a weapon, a fierce thing that can cut. In these pages, Jones also makes language into a fierce, cutting weapon. How We Fight For Our Lives is a coming of age story, it is a love letter to a black single mother, it is an indictment of our culture that creates so little space for gay men to learn how to be who they truly are. Most of all, this memoir is a rhapsody in the truest sense of the word, fragments of epic poetry woven together so skillfully, so tenderly, so brutally, that you will find yourself aching in the way only masterful writing can make a person ache. How We Fight For Our Lives is that rare book that will show you what it means to be needful, to be strong, to be gloriously human and fighting for your life.
December 16, 2019
I'm not sure how to rate this book. The author writes beautifully and the second part of the book is pretty much a song of love and gratitude towards his mother. 5 stars for the second part.
The first part? Well.! What the heck is it with some of these coming out memoirs by gay men that have to tell you about all the dick they've had??? As a lesbian, I definitely do not enjoy hearing about dick. This book was similar to I Can't Date Jesus: Love, Sex, Family, Race, and Other Reasons I've Put My Faith in Beyoncé, another coming out memoir by a young black man that described a lot of sex acts. I can appreciate and identify with the questions and insecurities of growing up gay and feeling you're different. Worrying that people will hate you if they find out. Wondering if there is something inherently bad and wrong about you. Had Saeed Jones left it at those questions and feelings, I would have liked this book more. I don't see the need to talk graphically about having many sex partners, whether someone is gay, straight, or lesbian. Unless you're writing porn (which is fine if it's labelled as such) then I don't see the merit in adding graphic sex situations.
That was a big turn-off (ha ha!) for me with this book. Mr. Jones talks a little about the Black experience too, and I appreciated learning about the specific challenges for a gay Black man in America. I also loved reading about his mother, how he felt about her, their relationship that appeared strong and yet it was never clear whether she fully accepted his sexuality.
4 stars, though it would have been 5 if not for so much dick talk.
The first part? Well.! What the heck is it with some of these coming out memoirs by gay men that have to tell you about all the dick they've had??? As a lesbian, I definitely do not enjoy hearing about dick. This book was similar to I Can't Date Jesus: Love, Sex, Family, Race, and Other Reasons I've Put My Faith in Beyoncé, another coming out memoir by a young black man that described a lot of sex acts. I can appreciate and identify with the questions and insecurities of growing up gay and feeling you're different. Worrying that people will hate you if they find out. Wondering if there is something inherently bad and wrong about you. Had Saeed Jones left it at those questions and feelings, I would have liked this book more. I don't see the need to talk graphically about having many sex partners, whether someone is gay, straight, or lesbian. Unless you're writing porn (which is fine if it's labelled as such) then I don't see the merit in adding graphic sex situations.
That was a big turn-off (ha ha!) for me with this book. Mr. Jones talks a little about the Black experience too, and I appreciated learning about the specific challenges for a gay Black man in America. I also loved reading about his mother, how he felt about her, their relationship that appeared strong and yet it was never clear whether she fully accepted his sexuality.
4 stars, though it would have been 5 if not for so much dick talk.
December 25, 2020
I didn’t know what to expect going into this. I mostly know Saeed Jones from his Twitter presence, where he is known as @theferocity, and is very much living up to that title. He’s hilarious and deals out some incredibly sharp commentary when necessary. He’s also known for this reaction pic, which in many cases says more than any biting retort ever could:
But on the rare occasion I venture off of twitter dot com, it’s important to remember that (most) of the people on that site are actual human beings the rest of the time. And those of us that are familiar with the funny side of Saeed will have to reconcile that this is going to be a very moving memoir.
There is so much hurt in this book. And at times it feels relentless, coming at you from all sides. Where those that are supposed to love and care for you unconditionally can inadvertently do some of the most lasting harm. And even some people who you do not consider to be a meaningful part of your life have the ability to cut you further than anyone else could.
“The water is always deeper than it looks.”
It’s harder than most people would think to write a good memoir. They’re my favorite nonfiction genre to read, but for that reason I’m probably a little tougher on them than other works. I feel like you need three things to push a memoir from adequate to excellent, which isn’t an easy feat. But then when someone’s able to pull it off, especially someone who doesn’t have fame and celebrity to trade on, you feel like you’ve discovered a hidden treasury of words and stories.
The first thing should be a given, and it’s honestly one of the most instantly noticeable things when picking up a piece of autobiographical nonfiction. The author needs to be a good writer. Obviously Saeed Jones is exceptional; his first published works were poetry collections, and he’s not new to writing outside of that. I don’t think you have to write with the same level of prose as Jones in order to succeed here, you just have to be able to tell your story in a distinct and compelling way. If you’re writing with a strong and identifiable voice, one that many people can connect to, then you can become a good writer. At least a writer good enough to speak on your own behalf.
The next thing I think potential memoir authors need is something that’s more of an issue with that subset of celebrity-written books that inevitably flood the market. You need to have stories worth telling. I have read a lot of these types of books, and the flops are usually by people who have lived a charmed life where the most interesting that happened to them was becoming famous. I don’t think you need a tragic backstory to become an author, but if you’re writing a book because an agent somewhere told you that should be your next “step”, please kindly......don’t. We get it, your dad is famous. Your parents were skeptical, but [financially] supportive. You suddenly got discovered because you’re too handsome. Chances are we’ve heard these exact stories in a 5 minute segment on a late night show, so what’s the point of printing it in a book if not for a money-grab or for an extra bit of pedigree on the resume?
Saeed Jones has so many stories to share. From his childhood into adolescence and adulthood, there’s no lack of cadence in his words. But the majority of what he talks about is not unique, even if it’s not exactly common, it’s still at least somewhat recognizable. The conversations left unspoken between a mother and a son. A struggle to balance between the person you currently are and the person you want to be. A plethora of both good and bad ‘firsts’—I know at the beginning of each chapter that this isn’t going to just be filler to get the story from A to B, but that it will have a point.
And that brings me to the final thing that’s necessary to write a memoir: you need to have something to say. To a point that may be true for most, if not all, books. I do think there is more of a requirement with your own life story, though. What are you trying to impact on the reader? What do you want us to take away from what you’re writing? If you can’t answer those questions, then this probably isn’t the writing project for you, yet.
I don’t want to speak on Saeed’s behalf, especially since there’s an entire 192 pages where he explains himself much better than I could summarize in a Goodreads review, but Saeed Jones has plenty to say. Some of it is reflections on himself, some is an examination of societal norms or pressures, and some I think I’m only just starting to unpack. But not only was this a brilliant memoir from an extremely talented author, you can tell by the end that though How We Fight For Our Lives is a triumph, it’s really only a scratch on the surface. There’s so much more ahead for Jones’ writing career, should he want to continue, and I think we’d all be lucky to have the privilege to read whatever else he comes out with.
“People don’t just happen. We sacrifice former versions of ourselves. We sacrifice the people who dared to raise us. The ‘I’ it seems doesn’t exist until we are able to say, ‘I am no longer yours.’”
But on the rare occasion I venture off of twitter dot com, it’s important to remember that (most) of the people on that site are actual human beings the rest of the time. And those of us that are familiar with the funny side of Saeed will have to reconcile that this is going to be a very moving memoir.
There is so much hurt in this book. And at times it feels relentless, coming at you from all sides. Where those that are supposed to love and care for you unconditionally can inadvertently do some of the most lasting harm. And even some people who you do not consider to be a meaningful part of your life have the ability to cut you further than anyone else could.
“The water is always deeper than it looks.”
It’s harder than most people would think to write a good memoir. They’re my favorite nonfiction genre to read, but for that reason I’m probably a little tougher on them than other works. I feel like you need three things to push a memoir from adequate to excellent, which isn’t an easy feat. But then when someone’s able to pull it off, especially someone who doesn’t have fame and celebrity to trade on, you feel like you’ve discovered a hidden treasury of words and stories.
The first thing should be a given, and it’s honestly one of the most instantly noticeable things when picking up a piece of autobiographical nonfiction. The author needs to be a good writer. Obviously Saeed Jones is exceptional; his first published works were poetry collections, and he’s not new to writing outside of that. I don’t think you have to write with the same level of prose as Jones in order to succeed here, you just have to be able to tell your story in a distinct and compelling way. If you’re writing with a strong and identifiable voice, one that many people can connect to, then you can become a good writer. At least a writer good enough to speak on your own behalf.
The next thing I think potential memoir authors need is something that’s more of an issue with that subset of celebrity-written books that inevitably flood the market. You need to have stories worth telling. I have read a lot of these types of books, and the flops are usually by people who have lived a charmed life where the most interesting that happened to them was becoming famous. I don’t think you need a tragic backstory to become an author, but if you’re writing a book because an agent somewhere told you that should be your next “step”, please kindly......don’t. We get it, your dad is famous. Your parents were skeptical, but [financially] supportive. You suddenly got discovered because you’re too handsome. Chances are we’ve heard these exact stories in a 5 minute segment on a late night show, so what’s the point of printing it in a book if not for a money-grab or for an extra bit of pedigree on the resume?
Saeed Jones has so many stories to share. From his childhood into adolescence and adulthood, there’s no lack of cadence in his words. But the majority of what he talks about is not unique, even if it’s not exactly common, it’s still at least somewhat recognizable. The conversations left unspoken between a mother and a son. A struggle to balance between the person you currently are and the person you want to be. A plethora of both good and bad ‘firsts’—I know at the beginning of each chapter that this isn’t going to just be filler to get the story from A to B, but that it will have a point.
And that brings me to the final thing that’s necessary to write a memoir: you need to have something to say. To a point that may be true for most, if not all, books. I do think there is more of a requirement with your own life story, though. What are you trying to impact on the reader? What do you want us to take away from what you’re writing? If you can’t answer those questions, then this probably isn’t the writing project for you, yet.
I don’t want to speak on Saeed’s behalf, especially since there’s an entire 192 pages where he explains himself much better than I could summarize in a Goodreads review, but Saeed Jones has plenty to say. Some of it is reflections on himself, some is an examination of societal norms or pressures, and some I think I’m only just starting to unpack. But not only was this a brilliant memoir from an extremely talented author, you can tell by the end that though How We Fight For Our Lives is a triumph, it’s really only a scratch on the surface. There’s so much more ahead for Jones’ writing career, should he want to continue, and I think we’d all be lucky to have the privilege to read whatever else he comes out with.
“People don’t just happen. We sacrifice former versions of ourselves. We sacrifice the people who dared to raise us. The ‘I’ it seems doesn’t exist until we are able to say, ‘I am no longer yours.’”
June 6, 2021
feeding my memoir addiction
update: holy moley. this was intense and excellent. won't be reviewing beyond that because this is so, so personal.
--------------
reading all books with LGBTQ+ rep for pride this month!
book 1: the gravity of us
book 2: the great american whatever
book 3: wild beauty
book 4: the affair of the mysterious letter
book 5: how we fight for our lives
update: holy moley. this was intense and excellent. won't be reviewing beyond that because this is so, so personal.
--------------
reading all books with LGBTQ+ rep for pride this month!
book 1: the gravity of us
book 2: the great american whatever
book 3: wild beauty
book 4: the affair of the mysterious letter
book 5: how we fight for our lives
June 23, 2019
Tell me more, please!
I hardly ever say this, but this book was too short--I wanted more!
Saeed Jones is a fantastic storyteller, even when he is telling stories that are heartbreaking and difficult to read. His vignettes about finding his place as a young, gay black man from the South are powerful and vivid. There are age-old adages about how literature helps us understand others, and How We Fight For Our Lives is a window into experiences that are completely unlike my own.
I wanted more because the vignettes left some things out. Roughly 2/3 of the way through the memoir, Jones frames a traumatic event as a turning point for him. We're only given bits and pieces of how his thinking and behavior changed after this event, so I wanted to hear this part of the story, too.
The memoir ends in 2011, which seems like an odd stopping point for a very young man's story. Jones was born in 1985, so 2011-2019 is roughly a quarter of his life. I understand why he chose to end this memoir where he did, but I also wonder how he has grown since then.
Four stars. Read How We Fight for Our Lives if you're interested in a powerful account of the author's intersectional experience. (Readers should be forewarned that some content is graphic.)
Thanks to Simon & Schuster and NetGalley for giving me a DRC of this book, which will be available for purchase on October 8th.
I hardly ever say this, but this book was too short--I wanted more!
Saeed Jones is a fantastic storyteller, even when he is telling stories that are heartbreaking and difficult to read. His vignettes about finding his place as a young, gay black man from the South are powerful and vivid. There are age-old adages about how literature helps us understand others, and How We Fight For Our Lives is a window into experiences that are completely unlike my own.
I wanted more because the vignettes left some things out. Roughly 2/3 of the way through the memoir, Jones frames a traumatic event as a turning point for him. We're only given bits and pieces of how his thinking and behavior changed after this event, so I wanted to hear this part of the story, too.
The memoir ends in 2011, which seems like an odd stopping point for a very young man's story. Jones was born in 1985, so 2011-2019 is roughly a quarter of his life. I understand why he chose to end this memoir where he did, but I also wonder how he has grown since then.
Four stars. Read How We Fight for Our Lives if you're interested in a powerful account of the author's intersectional experience. (Readers should be forewarned that some content is graphic.)
Thanks to Simon & Schuster and NetGalley for giving me a DRC of this book, which will be available for purchase on October 8th.
December 1, 2019
High 4 stars
How We Fight For Our Lives is a powerful short memoir. Saeed Jones is gay and black. He grew up in Texas with a single mother Buddhist convert who suffered from congenital heart disease. This memoir spans Jones’ life from ages 12 to 25. Jones gives his readers a raw taste of his life in that time span, including the rough ride he got from peers in high school and his successful but self-destructive self-reinvention as a student in at a small college in Kentucky. Jones also delves into the strong bond with his mother and the fractious relationship with the rest of his family. I loved Jones’ honesty. I also loved that he is not self-flattering or self-pitying. I especially loved the last part in which he deals so honestly with the grief of losing his mother at 25. I hope Jones produces other segments of his life in memoir form. Thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for an opportunity to read an advance copy.
How We Fight For Our Lives is a powerful short memoir. Saeed Jones is gay and black. He grew up in Texas with a single mother Buddhist convert who suffered from congenital heart disease. This memoir spans Jones’ life from ages 12 to 25. Jones gives his readers a raw taste of his life in that time span, including the rough ride he got from peers in high school and his successful but self-destructive self-reinvention as a student in at a small college in Kentucky. Jones also delves into the strong bond with his mother and the fractious relationship with the rest of his family. I loved Jones’ honesty. I also loved that he is not self-flattering or self-pitying. I especially loved the last part in which he deals so honestly with the grief of losing his mother at 25. I hope Jones produces other segments of his life in memoir form. Thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for an opportunity to read an advance copy.
July 6, 2019
It brings me great pain and joy to know Saeed Jones’ How We Fight For Our Lives will be set upon us all. Pain for the collective loss and sorrow gay black boys have suffered, and joy in knowing that it is stories like these that will set us free.
It’s been a month since I read Saeed Jones’ How We Fight For Our Lives, and I fumbled so long to put words to its visceral glamour. When I first heard of its arrival over the winter, I needed it immediately. To imagine the amount of blood, sweat, and tears Saeed must’ve sacrificed to saturate these pages is beyond me. What emerges from that offering is a story of a gay boy coming into the blackness of his body, its starkest desires and demands, and an anthem of unsung single black mothers who must raise their boys to be their own saviors before it’s too late.
Front to back, no other book has echoed so much of my own experience as a gay black boy like this. It took no effort at all to read Saeed’s story with an empathetic heart because I have been living this story in real time. There were so many instances I caught myself saying, “I know what that feels like too” and “Yes. Yes, that was me! That’s STILL me!”
I was pricked with my first N-word assault by another white boy whose vestige still haunts me in the faces of white men wanting to be friends, lovers, or bringers of harm. I watched my mother’s smile dissolve in the face of financial and spiritual uncertainty, and the tenacity with which she raged at every whisper of my sexuality and my little brother’s autism. I, too, have submitted to the dehumanizing fetishes of white men that can drive a vulnerable black boy to hate himself and others like him. I know the sting of falling for straight men capable of nothing more than breaking our hearts if not our whole being. And above all, I still tussle with the prodigious fear of a lonely, loveless life because of who I was born to be.
Thanks, Simon & Schuster friends, for sending me this remarkable book — and Saeed Jones, for sharing your light with the world. ❤️
If you liked my review, feel free to follow me @parisperusing on Instagram.
It’s been a month since I read Saeed Jones’ How We Fight For Our Lives, and I fumbled so long to put words to its visceral glamour. When I first heard of its arrival over the winter, I needed it immediately. To imagine the amount of blood, sweat, and tears Saeed must’ve sacrificed to saturate these pages is beyond me. What emerges from that offering is a story of a gay boy coming into the blackness of his body, its starkest desires and demands, and an anthem of unsung single black mothers who must raise their boys to be their own saviors before it’s too late.
Front to back, no other book has echoed so much of my own experience as a gay black boy like this. It took no effort at all to read Saeed’s story with an empathetic heart because I have been living this story in real time. There were so many instances I caught myself saying, “I know what that feels like too” and “Yes. Yes, that was me! That’s STILL me!”
"You never forget your first 'faggot.' Because the memory, in its way, makes you. It becomes a spine for the body of anxieties and insecurities that will follow, something to hang all that meat on. Before you were just scrawny; now you're scrawny because you're a faggot. Before you were just bookish; now you're bookish because you're a faggot.
Soon, bullies won't even have to say the word. Nor will friends, as they start to sit at different lunch tables without explanation. There will already be a voice in your head whispering 'faggot' for them."
I was pricked with my first N-word assault by another white boy whose vestige still haunts me in the faces of white men wanting to be friends, lovers, or bringers of harm. I watched my mother’s smile dissolve in the face of financial and spiritual uncertainty, and the tenacity with which she raged at every whisper of my sexuality and my little brother’s autism. I, too, have submitted to the dehumanizing fetishes of white men that can drive a vulnerable black boy to hate himself and others like him. I know the sting of falling for straight men capable of nothing more than breaking our hearts if not our whole being. And above all, I still tussle with the prodigious fear of a lonely, loveless life because of who I was born to be.
Thanks, Simon & Schuster friends, for sending me this remarkable book — and Saeed Jones, for sharing your light with the world. ❤️
If you liked my review, feel free to follow me @parisperusing on Instagram.
November 26, 2019
I had listened to an interview with the author on an NPR podcast and it intrigued me enough to pick up this book. Jones has a very engaging style of writing that feels almost like fiction (in some cases, when he is abused for being gay you wish it were fiction!) It is strange to me, sometimes, when people who are still quite young - he is in his thirties - write memoirs, but Jones really does have an important and relevant story to tell and one that I am glad I had a chance to read. It is a short book, but I think it will stay with me for some time to come.
Thanks to Netgalley for supplying me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
Find more reviews and bookish fun at http://www.princessandpen.com
Thanks to Netgalley for supplying me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
Find more reviews and bookish fun at http://www.princessandpen.com
July 7, 2020
Saeed Jones writes about growing up black and gay in a family that preferred not to have its secrets spoken out loud. He went on to college in Kentucky which had its own challenges but it is also where he found his voice as a writer. I particularly loved the family dynamics - single mother and Buddhism in the south makes for some great moments. How Saeed is tokenized and/or overlooked for hookups aligns with what I've heard from other black men, but no less disheartening. I look forward to reading his poetry and anything else from this point forward.
June 6, 2020
This book first came up on my radar when I heard the author interviewed on my favorite podcast last year, and it feels like my library hold for it came in at exactly the right time. How We Fight for Our Lives chronicles Saeed Jones coming of age as a Black gay man in the South in the late 90’s and 2000’s. Jones’s background in poetry is evident in the quality and flow of the writing, because this is one of my most beautifully written memoirs I’ve read in quite some time. It’s not always an easy read, but it’s one I’m so glad exists. If you’re looking to read some nonfiction by queer Black authors this Pride month or any other time of the year, I can’t recommend this one enough.
November 4, 2019
I really, really wanted to like this one more than I did. I loved meeting Saeed at a conference earlier this year and I love his poetry (his poem included in the book is definitely one of my favorites). Additionally, I think that his story of growing up black and gay is an important addition to the canon of growing up as an American teenager. But I don't think this book quite lives up to the promise.
At times, How We Fight For Our Lives feels more like a collection of traumatic memories than a fully realized memoir. The narrative describes in detail (sometimes too much so) formative encounters with homophobia, panicked late-night trips to the ER, racism's role in certain sexual dynamics, and other terrifying traumatic moments that undoubtedly shaped Saeed as a person and writer--but the book is sorely missing any moments of joy to round out the overwhelming sadness. It feels petty to demand more descriptions of happiness from a book dealing with such heavy topics but it also feels necessary to remain true to life. As is, Saeed's portrayal of himself seems less like a complete living, breathing, flawed human and more like someone that bad things happen to. Any memoir trying to shed light on difficult situations is incomplete if it doesn't force the reader to come to terms that a real human is experiencing the said difficult situation. (Side note: Know My Name does this very well; Chanel is well aware of the fact that an audience (be that readers or a jury) must always see the memoirist as a real person.)
All that being said, I did love Saeed's writing and I know I'll most likely read whatever he releases next, whether that means more poems or another book.
At times, How We Fight For Our Lives feels more like a collection of traumatic memories than a fully realized memoir. The narrative describes in detail (sometimes too much so) formative encounters with homophobia, panicked late-night trips to the ER, racism's role in certain sexual dynamics, and other terrifying traumatic moments that undoubtedly shaped Saeed as a person and writer--but the book is sorely missing any moments of joy to round out the overwhelming sadness. It feels petty to demand more descriptions of happiness from a book dealing with such heavy topics but it also feels necessary to remain true to life. As is, Saeed's portrayal of himself seems less like a complete living, breathing, flawed human and more like someone that bad things happen to. Any memoir trying to shed light on difficult situations is incomplete if it doesn't force the reader to come to terms that a real human is experiencing the said difficult situation. (Side note: Know My Name does this very well; Chanel is well aware of the fact that an audience (be that readers or a jury) must always see the memoirist as a real person.)
All that being said, I did love Saeed's writing and I know I'll most likely read whatever he releases next, whether that means more poems or another book.
February 16, 2020
Very, very good.
Review to come.
Review to come.
Read
May 24, 2020
May 6, 2021
‘Cómo luchamos por nuestras vidas’ es una hermosa y cruda novela de crecimiento en la que el autor narra su propia historia como joven afroamericano y gay nacido en los años 80 en la América profunda. La historia abarca episodios que van desde su infancia hasta el momento en el que empieza a dedicarse a la escritura a tiempo completo y, mientras habla de él, profundiza en temas complejos como las relaciones personales asimétricas, las tensiones que subyacen en las relaciones familiares, los excesos como modo de huida de uno mismo y la literatura como tabla de salvación.
Más allá de cualquier lectura novedosa en relación a lo racial o lo sexual, creo que lo que esta magnifica novela aporta es la particular voz del narrador. Cada frase está pulida, perfilada y afilada. Esta no es la novela de un escritor, es la novela de un poeta.
Me ha parecido especialmente valiente en relación a cómo aborda temas familiares que, habitualmente en literatura, se idealizan, se caricaturizan o se evitan con un fundido. Saeed Jones tiene una punzante voz propia y no tiene miedo de usarla despiadadamente contra el mundo, contra su entorno o, lo que es más difícil, contra él mismo.
Más allá de cualquier lectura novedosa en relación a lo racial o lo sexual, creo que lo que esta magnifica novela aporta es la particular voz del narrador. Cada frase está pulida, perfilada y afilada. Esta no es la novela de un escritor, es la novela de un poeta.
Me ha parecido especialmente valiente en relación a cómo aborda temas familiares que, habitualmente en literatura, se idealizan, se caricaturizan o se evitan con un fundido. Saeed Jones tiene una punzante voz propia y no tiene miedo de usarla despiadadamente contra el mundo, contra su entorno o, lo que es más difícil, contra él mismo.
June 25, 2019
This book is soooo good. Saeed Jones is a force. His skills as a poet is fully evident in the prose of this book. Sexuality. Humanity. Blackness. Family. Grief. It’s all in here. He is vulnerable and he is genius and just wow!
July 10, 2025
This is a beautifully written memoir about growing up black and gay in the American South. I had seen Saeed speak at a conference a few months ago, and he was so funny and engaging that I sought out his book.
One insightful section was about the authors and poets who influenced Saeed growing up. In one early anecdote he had started reading his mom’s copy of a James Baldwin novel, and was surprised that he got turned on by the story, sharing that he didn’t know books could do that. As he grew in his poetry writing and reading, he lamented the number of black poets and writers who had died too young.
One especially moving section was about his mother, who tragically died of congenital heart failure when Saeed was 25. Having also lost my mother too early, his description of that experience was tear-inducing.
I listened to this on audio, which Saeed narrated himself. I would highly recommend this book to readers who appreciate memoirs.
Favorite Quotes
“People don’t just happen. We sacrifice former versions of ourselves. We sacrifice the people who dared to raise us. The ‘I’ it seems doesn’t exist until we are able to say, ‘I am no longer yours.’”
“Just as some cultures have a hundred words for 'snow,' there should be a hundred words in our language for all the ways a black boy can lie awake at night.”
“Tears don't always just fall; sometimes they rip through you, like storm-painted gusts instead of mere raindrops.”
[After learning of the deaths of James Byrd Jr. in Texas and Matthew Shepard in Wyoming]
“Being black can get you killed. Being gay can get you killed. Being a black gay boy is a death wish. And one day, if you’re lucky, your life and death will become some artist’s new ‘project.’”
“The sons of single mothers inevitably encounter well-meaning family members who like to remind us of our role as ‘the man of the house.’ The statement usually made me wince, the way it implicitly merged the roles of son, father, and husband; the way it erased the grown woman to whom the house actually belonged.”
One insightful section was about the authors and poets who influenced Saeed growing up. In one early anecdote he had started reading his mom’s copy of a James Baldwin novel, and was surprised that he got turned on by the story, sharing that he didn’t know books could do that. As he grew in his poetry writing and reading, he lamented the number of black poets and writers who had died too young.
One especially moving section was about his mother, who tragically died of congenital heart failure when Saeed was 25. Having also lost my mother too early, his description of that experience was tear-inducing.
I listened to this on audio, which Saeed narrated himself. I would highly recommend this book to readers who appreciate memoirs.
Favorite Quotes
“People don’t just happen. We sacrifice former versions of ourselves. We sacrifice the people who dared to raise us. The ‘I’ it seems doesn’t exist until we are able to say, ‘I am no longer yours.’”
“Just as some cultures have a hundred words for 'snow,' there should be a hundred words in our language for all the ways a black boy can lie awake at night.”
“Tears don't always just fall; sometimes they rip through you, like storm-painted gusts instead of mere raindrops.”
[After learning of the deaths of James Byrd Jr. in Texas and Matthew Shepard in Wyoming]
“Being black can get you killed. Being gay can get you killed. Being a black gay boy is a death wish. And one day, if you’re lucky, your life and death will become some artist’s new ‘project.’”
“The sons of single mothers inevitably encounter well-meaning family members who like to remind us of our role as ‘the man of the house.’ The statement usually made me wince, the way it implicitly merged the roles of son, father, and husband; the way it erased the grown woman to whom the house actually belonged.”
June 27, 2020
Saeed Jone’s How We Fight For Our Lives was the queer Black memoir exploring adolescence, striving, self loathing, racism in the gay community, intimate partner violence, grief, poverty, and that quintessential imperfect profoundly complex relationship between a son and his mother that everyone needs to read. This book, read by the author himself, is so beautiful and so honest and so full of peer and also hope and also pain. It’s an elegy to so much that Jones has clearly worked to grow through amongst some enormous loss and terrifying violence, and an entire nation state fighting against his very survival. I want more of this voice and more voices like it. A book I loved from beginning to end, and one I would easily read again, pick this one up for Pride month and for always.
August 3, 2020
Relistened to the audiobook and I am still in awe
So moved by this piece that I can't even begin to describe it... Just go read it
So moved by this piece that I can't even begin to describe it... Just go read it
March 10, 2021
“People don’t just happen. We sacrifice former versions of ourselves. We sacrifice the people who dared to raise us. The “I” it seems doesn’t exist until we are able to say, “I am no longer yours.” My grandmother and I, without knowing it, were faithfully following a script that had already been written for us. A woman raises a boy into a man, loving him so intensely that her commitment finally repulses him.”
Being black can get you killed.
Being gay can get you killed.
Being a black gay boy is a death wish.”
TW: abuse (physical, mental, emotional, verbal – mentioned), animal death (natural causes), excessive or gratuitous violence, depiction of pornography, depiction of sex scenes, death, blood.
Haunted and haunting, Jones’s memoir tells the story of a young, black, gay man from the South as he fights to carve out a place for himself, within his family, within his country, within his own hopes, desires, and fears
Saeed Jones can write, and I will start by affirming that his prose is one of the most beautiful I have ever encountered. His words paint such poetic pictures and are linked so tightly to his own emotional life experiences, that you feel right there with him, in a rich and vivid imagery. It is the kind of book you might end up quoting in its entirety because every single word carries its importance through a narrative, one that is paramount nowadays.
I laughed, I cried, I felt compassion and rage, How We Fight For Our Lives is introduces a voice everyone needs to hear about, as it teaches a lot about grief, acceptance, personal exploration and identity. Saeed’s assertiveness is violently intricated to a deep-rooted issue in America, an eye-opening experience which adds more urgency to fight against homophobia and racism.
A very necessary read I wouldn’t recommend to everyone – it is very raw and violent but deeply honest, and I can imagine some of the porn/sexual talk to be sensitively triggering.
Being black can get you killed.
Being gay can get you killed.
Being a black gay boy is a death wish.”
TW: abuse (physical, mental, emotional, verbal – mentioned), animal death (natural causes), excessive or gratuitous violence, depiction of pornography, depiction of sex scenes, death, blood.
Haunted and haunting, Jones’s memoir tells the story of a young, black, gay man from the South as he fights to carve out a place for himself, within his family, within his country, within his own hopes, desires, and fears
Saeed Jones can write, and I will start by affirming that his prose is one of the most beautiful I have ever encountered. His words paint such poetic pictures and are linked so tightly to his own emotional life experiences, that you feel right there with him, in a rich and vivid imagery. It is the kind of book you might end up quoting in its entirety because every single word carries its importance through a narrative, one that is paramount nowadays.
I laughed, I cried, I felt compassion and rage, How We Fight For Our Lives is introduces a voice everyone needs to hear about, as it teaches a lot about grief, acceptance, personal exploration and identity. Saeed’s assertiveness is violently intricated to a deep-rooted issue in America, an eye-opening experience which adds more urgency to fight against homophobia and racism.
A very necessary read I wouldn’t recommend to everyone – it is very raw and violent but deeply honest, and I can imagine some of the porn/sexual talk to be sensitively triggering.
November 9, 2019
Wow ... I didn’t know what I was expecting from this memoir but this was so much more. It’s the story of the author’s life told by navigating through important moments of his life and the ultimate thread overall is his relationship with his beloved single mother.
You can clearly see Jones is a poet because even his prose is stunningly beautiful and evocative - literally brimming with feelings like desperation, confusion, longing, fear and grief - and listening to the audiobook in his own voice brings even more life to it. I thought his particular fear about the ramifications of being both Black and gay was very palpable in his words and I could feel it myself. It really broke my heart. I was so lost in his words that I didn’t realize it was already over, and I just wanted to know more.
This memoir truly deserves all the accolades it’s getting across the community and I hope everyone picks this up. I’m not much of a poetry reader but I definitely wanna go back and checkout his previous award winning poetry books.
You can clearly see Jones is a poet because even his prose is stunningly beautiful and evocative - literally brimming with feelings like desperation, confusion, longing, fear and grief - and listening to the audiobook in his own voice brings even more life to it. I thought his particular fear about the ramifications of being both Black and gay was very palpable in his words and I could feel it myself. It really broke my heart. I was so lost in his words that I didn’t realize it was already over, and I just wanted to know more.
This memoir truly deserves all the accolades it’s getting across the community and I hope everyone picks this up. I’m not much of a poetry reader but I definitely wanna go back and checkout his previous award winning poetry books.
November 6, 2019
I worried because of Jones's background in poetry that his memoir might be too abstract, too poem-like for me. But absolutely not. The prose is powerful, clean, laser-sharp in terms of imagery and theme. If anything, the fault with this book is that it's too short. The writing's so good, I just wanted more of it.
It begins as the story of a black boy in Texas (age 12 or 13), a black gay boy in Texas, and how that makes Jones feel both alone and terrified of society (and justifiably so). Then the memoir traces his life through high school, into college on the speech and debate team at Western Kentucky, and into the field of teaching and writing. But a great deal of the memoir is about his relationships with his mother and his grandmother, both strong, but very different women. Such a powerful memoir. It's no surprise this just won the Kirkus Prize.
It begins as the story of a black boy in Texas (age 12 or 13), a black gay boy in Texas, and how that makes Jones feel both alone and terrified of society (and justifiably so). Then the memoir traces his life through high school, into college on the speech and debate team at Western Kentucky, and into the field of teaching and writing. But a great deal of the memoir is about his relationships with his mother and his grandmother, both strong, but very different women. Such a powerful memoir. It's no surprise this just won the Kirkus Prize.
June 8, 2020
This had me shook. Incredible stuff. A fantastic read.
May 6, 2021
Expectations are a bitch. This book was highly-praised, so already there's a high bar.
On the level of the sentence, the poetry of the prose is beyond excellent. It's beautiful, tragic, evocative, sad, and hopeful. But ultimately it is a young writer's memoir, and that is why I was a little disappointed. Are we never to move beyond self-loathing and self-sabotage? Plus, I have to say: all that Buddhist chanting does not seem to have resulted in any sort of grounded mindfulness (my own teacher, who wrote a book called NOT FOR HAPPINESS, considers many practices just to be performative, demonstrating the ego's grip on superstitions more than a grasp of buddhist precepts).
However, once again I want to point out that much of my difficulty with this book is because of my own internalized homophobia, and how hard it is to bear my own weight of self-loathing, how doubly hard it is to walk with this anguished human on his journey — especially since it is so well written and therefore even more beautifully painful and painfully beautiful. Life is suffering, indeed.
On the level of the sentence, the poetry of the prose is beyond excellent. It's beautiful, tragic, evocative, sad, and hopeful. But ultimately it is a young writer's memoir, and that is why I was a little disappointed. Are we never to move beyond self-loathing and self-sabotage? Plus, I have to say: all that Buddhist chanting does not seem to have resulted in any sort of grounded mindfulness (my own teacher, who wrote a book called NOT FOR HAPPINESS, considers many practices just to be performative, demonstrating the ego's grip on superstitions more than a grasp of buddhist precepts).
However, once again I want to point out that much of my difficulty with this book is because of my own internalized homophobia, and how hard it is to bear my own weight of self-loathing, how doubly hard it is to walk with this anguished human on his journey — especially since it is so well written and therefore even more beautifully painful and painfully beautiful. Life is suffering, indeed.
May 6, 2020
Many thanks to Simon & Schuster and NetGalley for an ARC of this book. What a beautiful memoir from Saeed Jones. Coming of age, coming out, relationships with family, a son and his single mother. Racism, homophobia - external and internal. Without giving away any real spoilers, I must say it was so intimate to use his sexual experiences as a platform for the horror of racism. And throughout the book his Mom shines through which makes me miss my own Mom. What a brave young man to share his experiences with us. Very real.
January 6, 2021
Så stark berättelse om en ung mans väg från pojke till man, hans kärlek till sin mamma, relation till sin religiösa mormor, om att hitta sin själv och att komma ut som gay. Lyssnade på ljudboken som läses av författaren själv och det gjorde det ännu mäktigare och jag satt som trollbunden hela boken igenom.
October 3, 2019
What a truly incredible memoir! I devoured this in one sitting, couldn't put it down - couldn't turn the pages fast enough and really wanted more once I was finished. How We Fight For Our Lives is powerful, captivating, heart wrenching and also full of strength. I admire so much that these amazing humans allow us, complete strangers, to see into their world, to read their truth. This is a memoir everyone needs in their life. I highly encourage you to read this.
Thank you so so much Simon & Schuster Canada for my review copy! I'm blown away!
Thank you so so much Simon & Schuster Canada for my review copy! I'm blown away!
January 4, 2022
Jones's remarkable coming-of-age memoir about being a Black gay man from the South is told in a series of moments and scenes from his childhood through young adulthood. My husband Will cited this one as a favorite in What Should I Read Next Episode 214: Deconstructing your best reading year yet because of Jones's storytelling. Note: the audiobook, read by the author, is excellent.
September 2, 2019
I read in one sitting, and woo this is one of those memoirs that will live with me forever. It’s raw and powerful and it’s out in October, and if you’re a fan of memoirs definitely have this one on your radar. He’s also one of my favorite people to follow on Twitter.
February 7, 2020
A wonderful exploration of what it means to learn who you are while facing the dangerousness of being black and gay. Saeed draws you in with quality prose and keeps you interested by walking you through his trauma so you can't look away.
December 17, 2019
4.5/5 I strongly recommend the audio read by the author. His passages about his mother and their relationship will bring tears.
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