'This book is a glowing achievement by one of the best essayists of her generation' Charlie Brinkhurst-Cuff
‘Witty, fresh and full of life’ Liv Little
Kimberly McIntosh has lived a full life, with a loving family, messy friendships, mind-expanding travel and all-night parties. She’s also spent that life wondering why such opportunities aren’t always available to people who look like her.
Stemming from years of social policy research and campaign work, this essay collection brings together all that Kimberly has learned; whether that’s dismantling the myth of social mobility for those who toe the line, to understanding why her teenage Facebook posts are quite so cringe. In it, she uses her own experiences to reveal how systematic injustice impacts us all, from the pressure of nuclear families, to enduring toxic friendships, to how painful it can be to watch Love Island.
Perfect for fans of Slay In Your Lane, Trick Mirror, and Bad Feminist, this dazzling debut collection brilliantly melds the personal and political to not only tell the story of a life, but what that life might teach us.
‘Kim’s writing is a joy. Her take on sex, British politics, mental health, intimacy, and race are some of the truest words I’ve read on these issues in a long time. You can see your real self in Kim’s words. And guess what? It doesn't feel too frightening. A delicious and wonderfully written collection’ Derek Bardowell
Kimberly McIntosh weaves together her personal experience and comprehensive research to create a collection of essays which outlines the complicated, multi-faceted reality of being a Black millennial woman in the UK.
'Middle-class safari' is an acerbic eviceration of a society that prizes wealth, social and cultural capital - and whiteness - above all else. Race and class are often seen as synonymous in the UK, but McIntosh makes pains to warn about conflating the two, of expecting all Black people to have overcome struggle in order to achieve success and patronising them accordingly. McIntosh acknowledges how her own privileges - she attended private school from the age of seven and has cultivated the coveted RP accent - have smoothed her passage and opened doors for her. However, she remembers having disdain for others from similar backgrounds who seemingly weren't trying hard enough to improve their situation. 'I had left it behind, with what I believed back then to be perseverance and grit. It was easier to believe in meritocracy, that my ability plus effort brought my successes.' She bought into the myth of respectability politics because it made her feel better to attribute her success to hard work rather than acknowledging the role luck played in giving her opportunities that were not available to most of her peers through no fault of her own. The essay includes a scathing deconstruction of the meritocracy myth, which feels particularly relevant in the current political climate in the UK.
Throughout the essays, McIntosh demonstrates a frank, self-aware approach to describing how she has navigated her life which is refreshing and illuminating. The book is also peppered with light-hearted asides such as the glossary of posh terms, excerpts from her teenage gap year diary, and a nostalgically cringey selection of Facebook updates from the mid-00s.
'The right kind of family' raises thought-provoking questions about adoption, and the importance of adhering to cultural norms such as getting married and then having children in order to be accepted by Middle England. A selection of essays on attractiveness, sex and dating shine a spotlight on the social constructs of beauty - 'Is she hot or is she just blonde?' It is a sad truth that, for far too many girls and young women's, their sense of self-worth is inextricably linked with whether or not they think boys find them attractive, and McIntosh's stories of her early experiences of sex will feel familiar to many women of all races - 'Anything sexual seesawed between shame and empowerment, rarely reaching equilibrium.' However, McIntosh highlights the specific additional difficulties Black women face in a society which glorifies Western beauty standards and rejects any deviation. This is amplified by the fact that Black men are statistically the most likely of any group to date outside their race; McIntosh points to how shows such as Love Island hold a mirror to the dispiriting experience of dating as a Black woman, particularly one with darker skin, in the UK.
'Twenty-four-hour party people' is an honest, realistic look at drug-taking and drug laws in the UK, with McIntosh drawing unashamedly on her own experience of both illegal drugs and alcohol to argue about the need for a re-evaluation of a system which is 'based on arbitrary categories and moral panics.' She comments on how the current approach to criminalising drugs and punishing offenders is disproportionately affecting the Black community, but the government is reluctant to acknowledge this because it would mean trying to address the social factors which have created this situation.
''But you have Beyoncé?' - on race and friendship' is a thoughtfully exploration on how friendships with both Black and non-Black friends can shape a young Black person's racial identity, the importance of boundaries, and of not being afraid to cast aside a friendship which is 'built on the suppression of [one's] true feelings and fundamental principles.' This feels particularly relevant in the aftermath of a referendum which exposed previously hiddden deep fault lines across the country in 2016, and the repercussions of the Black Lives Matter movement which gained momentum in 2020.
Finally, 'Atheism? Faith in the Black community' analyses data from various sources to unpack why religion plays a more important role in the lives of Black Britons than their white counterparts, and the implications of renouncing those beliefs.
Full of sharply observed commentary on British society, the essays take a deep dive into class, family, sex, beauty, friendships, drugs and faith as experienced through the prism of being Black, female and coming of age during the 00s. While each essay focuses specifically on how McIntosh and other Black girls and women experience the world, there is much that is universal about what she describes, and many of her stories and observations will resonate with women of all races.
Thank you to NetGalley and Harper Collins UK for the opportunity to read and review an ARC of this book.
One of the many books that made meeting my reading goal this year incredibly difficult. Never have I found a more fitting title - Black Girl, no magic for real.
A collection of “essays” is a bit of a stretch for some of the chapters in this book. Such a shame as it started off so strong, but towards the middle of the book in the exploration of drugs and sex chapters, I found that she lost her structure, style of writing, and general point.
3.5 would probably be more accurate. It started super strong but started to feel more profitless. She had great topics but only the first few felt really vibrant and exploring. Overall thoughtful and accessible takes on Class, Race, womanhood, Sex, religion, friendship, youth, and statistics for black communities in England.
Enjoyed some chapters and found the data and different perspectives on friendship and religion quite enriching. Yet found the part about drug consumption unnecessarily long and boring, especially compared to the topics discussed before and after that.
Kimberly McIntosh weaves together her personal experience and comprehensive research to create a collection of essays which outlines the complicated, multi-faceted reality of being a Black millennial woman in the UK.
'Middle-class safari' is an acerbic eviceration of a society that prizes wealth, social and cultural capital - and whiteness - above all else. Race and class are often seen as synonymous in the UK, but McIntosh makes pains to warn about conflating the two, of expecting all Black people to have overcome struggle in order to achieve success and patronising them accordingly. McIntosh acknowledges how her own privileges - she attended private school from the age of seven and has cultivated the coveted RP accent - have smoothed her passage and opened doors for her. However, she remembers having disdain for others from similar backgrounds who seemingly weren't trying hard enough to improve their situation. 'I had left it behind, with what I believed back then to be perseverance and grit. It was easier to believe in meritocracy, that my ability plus effort brought my successes.' She bought into the myth of respectability politics because it made her feel better to attribute her success to hard work rather than acknowledging the role luck played in giving her opportunities that were not available to most of her peers through no fault of her own. The essay includes a scathing deconstruction of the meritocracy myth, which feels particularly relevant in the current political climate in the UK.
Throughout the essays, McIntosh demonstrates a frank, self-aware approach to describing how she has navigated her life which is refreshing and illuminating. The book is also peppered with light-hearted asides such as the glossary of posh terms, excerpts from her teenage gap year diary, and a nostalgically cringey selection of Facebook updates from the mid-00s.
'The right kind of family' raises thought-provoking questions about adoption, and the importance of adhering to cultural norms such as getting married and then having children in order to be accepted by Middle England. A selection of essays on attractiveness, sex and dating shine a spotlight on the social constructs of beauty - 'Is she hot or is she just blonde?' It is a sad truth that, for far too many girls and young women, their sense of self-worth is inextricably linked with whether or not they think boys find them attractive, and McIntosh's stories of her early experiences of sex will feel familiar to many women of all races - 'Anything sexual seesawed between shame and empowerment, rarely reaching equilibrium.' However, McIntosh highlights the specific additional difficulties Black women face in a society which glorifies Western beauty standards and rejects any deviation. This is amplified by the fact that Black men are statistically the most likely of any group to date outside their race; McIntosh points to how shows such as Love Island hold a mirror to the dispiriting experience of dating as a Black woman, particularly one with darker skin, in the UK.
'Twenty-four-hour party people' is an honest, realistic look at drug-taking and drug laws in the UK, with McIntosh drawing unashamedly on her own experience of both illegal drugs and alcohol to argue about the need for a re-evaluation of a system which is 'based on arbitrary categories and moral panics.' She comments on how the current approach to criminalising drugs and punishing offenders is disproportionately affecting the Black community, but the government is reluctant to acknowledge this because it would mean trying to address the social factors which have created this situation.
''But you have Beyoncé?' - on race and friendship' is a thoughtfully exploration on how friendships with both Black and non-Black friends can shape a young Black person's racial identity, the importance of boundaries, and of not being afraid to cast aside a friendship which is 'built on the suppression of [one's] true feelings and fundamental principles.' This feels particularly relevant in the aftermath of a referendum which exposed previously hiddden deep fault lines across the country in 2016, and the repercussions of the Black Lives Matter movement which gained momentum in 2020.
Finally, 'Atheism? Faith in the Black community' analyses data from various sources to unpack why religion plays a more important role in the lives of Black Britons than their white counterparts, and the implications of renouncing those beliefs.
Full of sharply observed commentary on British society, the essays take a deep dive into class, family, sex, beauty, friendships, drugs and faith as experienced through the prism of being Black, female and coming of age during the 00s. While each essay focuses specifically on how McIntosh and other Black girls and women experience the world, there is much that is universal about what she describes, and many of her stories and observations will resonate with women of all races.
Thank you to NetGalley and Harper Collins UK for the opportunity to read and review an ARC of this book.
‘Black Girl, No Magic’ is a collection of essays and stories about the experiences of black people, but specifically black women.
I haven’t read much non-fiction recently, so I was keen to read this one.
I really liked the discussion around social mobility, particularly in terms of exploring what constitutes middle class and working class.
As black people, although we share commonalities and certain experiences, we are not a monolith.
I also found the conversation around Black women and respectability politics interesting as well. In particular, how Black women are often pressured to fit certain moulds (Ie in work, dating, childbearing, beauty standards).
However, I personally didn’t like the chapters and discussions around drugs and sex. Some nuances were interesting, but for the most part these sections just weren’t for me.
Despite this, I really liked how Mcintosh weaves in her personal experiences and stories throughout.
I really enjoyed the discussions around mental health and therapy. I did want these aspects to be delved into a bit more throughout.
Nonetheless, this book adds much necessary contemporary perspectives and a solid addition to existing discourses on black experiences.
This book has given me a fresh perspective on my experiences as a mixed race woman, particularly the chapters “Is she hot or is she just blonde?” And “Atheism? Faith in the black community”.
I finished this book off all in one go after starting it and reaching page 40, in a big, green park on a warm English summer and this is probably the best way to enjoy and digest the book.
Aside from the mix of English and American spelling (which I assume has come about due to McIntosh studying in Toronto and Manchester) is a bit strange at first but adds to her experiences as an individual and helps characterise her. I also wish to highlight that these are more “reflections”, in my opinion, backed up with references.
So, I started the book by feeling like it read a little childish. Not that it was immature or naive in any way, more so that the tone and language read very basic and school girl like.
However, the book naturally matured, as I’m sure was deliberate, into something that I could really relate to. My favorite thing about the book was simply just how relatable the book was. Literally felt so familiar. So similar to my experience of childhood as a Black British girl in the UK.
On the other hand, for some of the areas of sociology that I’m more educated in, I did find the essays to be a little surface level and lacking in depth or criticism. It felt very much like an Intro lecture. For example, the chapter on beauty politics. However, for the areas I wasn’t so knowledgeable, it was written in a beautifully friendly tone that resonated and felt warm. As I reflected, I think it was unfair of me to expect the book to predict my previous knowledge so now, I recognise that this is the beauty of the book. It’s not too complex.
I think this is a perfect book for someone in their late teens and early 20s. It touches on almost every topic that you face in early adulthood. It reminds me of a Girls Book of Glamour book that I read as a child, but a lot more well-researched! One of my favorite essays was the one on sex and how young feminists have struggled to navigate the shifts in sex culture. My other favourite was the drugs one and the religion one. Both are topics not often addressed by black writers.
I do think it stands to gain from a little more cohesiveness - a stronger conclusion and morale but it was still a lovely read. It read as so friendly and kind and I appreciate that because some non-fiction books can be painfully stuffy. This book was likeable and refreshingly relatable. The stories were so raw, flawed and honest in a way that is often lacking in Black British literature.
“Black Girl: No Magic [from what I gather so far] is about blackness, womanhood, class, and an individual experience that intersects these margins and takes a light-hearted approach to tough topics.” “Chapter 8 felt like useless dribble. I am not sure how this sensibly ties into the book.”
I remember being unimpressed by this book towards the last few chapters. It started well enough, but I got lost often trying to figure out what the author was trying to say. There were parts where I didn’t see it all fit cohesively, and it was not what I was looking for when I saw the title. There were some decent parts, like parts about beauty standards, desirability, and the societal value of those ideas. I enjoyed that chapter the most. Since it’s been a few years since I read this, and my fierce dislike for this book has dimmed immensely. Writing a book isn’t easy, so I can understand and make peace with that.
+ Should anyone care? - Yes. Not every work of a black author should be a masterpiece or the highest point of excellence. This book is decent enough to resonate with certain people and verbalise ideas that may not have been accessible.
+ What makes this book different from the others? - Unfortunately, this book isn’t different from others in a significant way. It comes off as a memoir with some compelling facts and information, but the book didn’t embody the substance I was looking for when I first saw it.
Kimberly McIntosh is an honest, insightful, and brilliant writer and I learned a lot from this book. As a retired white woman, I’m far removed from her universe as this is far removed from my experience, and there was a lot of learning for me in this book. I enjoyed it very much. It felt like sitting beside someone randomly on the train and chatting to them and finding they are full of stories, of fun, and of information about life today for a young black woman.
I naively thought that if I personally believe I have no issues with racism then all is well. But reading this book really got me thinking. Got me thinking about the times I’ve been offended by someone’s comment but said nothing because I didn’t want to ‘rock the boat’ but the boat needs rocking.
Ms McIntosh is funny and some of her stories and experiences are quite shocking and overall I felt glad not to be ‘growing up’ during this time of social media and phone cameras.
I’m glad I had the opportunity to interact with this author in these pages and I’ll be looking out for further work from her.
I really enjoyed listening to this book of essays, the mixture of anecdote, memoir and statical policy docs was so so well done, the topic range was engaging too and it made me think about a lot of things. Loved the mentions of Manchester. Felt ending with creating a book proposal and that book being the book you’ve just read a little trite but I understand why she did it this way.
Interesting, but meandering read. Felt like more of a selective memoir rather than a collection of essays. While race and class were clear themes throughout, each chapter was more of an exploration of Mcintosh's life interspersed with statistics. Not what I was looking for, but a solid piece of work.
3.5 Some chapters I really enjoyed, interesting to hear different perspectives on various topics including faith, friends and family. Others however either felt like they meandered a little or didnt dive deep enough. Also nice as someone who went to the University of Manchester as well to hear about some familiar places
4.5⭐️ Read this book. Non-fiction books can often be slow paced and a bit of a task to go through but not this book. Kimberly struck the perfect emotional and factual balance to keep you hooked. I strongly recommend this, it will make you curious, laugh and take some time for reflection.
Really enjoyed reading this, loads of insightful wide ranging essays about what life is like to grow up as a young black woman in the UK. Really resonated with the quote ‘If people treat you like an imposter you will feel like one. It’s not a syndrome, we’re not ill.’
This book did made me feel seen! I loved Kimberley’s honesty throughout the book, experiences of a young black woman to being a grown adult. Stand out parts for me where the gap year chronicles and hearing her speak about her (lack of) faith experience.
An important perspective on the complexity of being a first/second generation black british women. I found the introduction of religion and drug use interesting and important as these subjects are often quite taboo in Caribbean culture.
Just like a lot of the other reviews the only thing I didn’t like was the drug and sex chapters and found myself having to skip those chapter which I hate doing.
That was ground-nreaking. It is an academic text, but it doesn't read like an academic text (thank God). She's funny while talking about very serious topics and I feel like I have learned a lot.
Started off very strong but the latter half of the book didn’t feel like “essays” and more like blog posts reminising about a past uni and immediate post-uni life
As soon as I read the blurb of Black girl, no magic I knew that this was a book that I wanted to read. This non-fiction book follows the life of Kimberly McIntosh, a British-Caribbean woman who grew up in a predominantly white area and attended a private school; a childhood which resounded greatly with me. Throughout the novel she explores her views and experience on class, sex, drugs, and of course, racism.
Whilst I was reading this book, it really reminded me of Slay in Your Lane: A Black Girl Bible. Although I enjoyed reading it in my early 20s, I felt that some of the information would have been more useful to me if I had read it when I was younger. However I would say that black girl, no magic was aimed primarily at late teenagers and those in the early 20s, which I definitely appreciated.
I loved the way that she told her experiences whilst weaving in research and anecdotes from other individuals. I especially loved her analysis regarding class in Britain as well as her breakdown of race in Love Island UK. This was something which really resonated with me, especially following the outcome of the summer 2023 series, which had me vowing never to watch the TV show again.
Although overall I did enjoy this biography, I felt that some chapters had a better flow than others. There were a few chapters which seemed to have a amalgamation of random stories often told in a social media format which I feel didn’t add much and was not as hard hitting as the other chapters. That being said, I would recommend this book to everyone.
NB: Thank you to @NetGalley and @harpercollinsuk for giving me an eARC of this book. I voluntarily read and reviewed it. All thoughts and opinions are my own.
black girl, no magic is a thoughful collection of personal essays.
Each essay takes a loose theme that McIntosh unravels through reference points and personal experiences, always underlined by race. Her explorations feel effortless and organic, and with some wonderfully fluid prose, reading this book often feels like you're having a conversation with an old friend. Her storytelling is honest, full of learning and reflection and a willingness to laugh at her younger self, and I found her voice immediately likeable.
Easy to read, challenging and thought-provoking all at the same time, black girl, no magic is an accomplished collection of essays. Highly recommended.
*Thank you to Netgalley for the arc in exchange for an honest review*
Beautifully insightful and introspective, Black Girl, No Magic is an intelligent and well thought out mix of Kimberly's personal thoughts and experiences, supplimented with well researched facts in the form of essays.
It's a privilege to hear about Kimberly's experiences as she deftly touches upon a number of often tricky subjects. Class, racism, misogyny, drug use, gap years, atheism (+ religion) and sex are all covered in a well rounded and none judgemental way.
Compelling and thought provoking, like having a deep and meaningful conversation with a friend.