Review of Shame on Me- An Anatomy of Race and Belonging, Tessa McWatt.

Favourite quote: ‘The more pertinent and on-going question is Who am I?’ (233)

Tessa McWatt’s memoir Shame on Me explores racial identity by reconstructing the body, one feature at a time. The divisions of the text mirror a scientific experiment, comprised of a hypothesis, anatomical parts as variables, and findings. As an interracial woman, McWatt fleshes out the bones of the body with familial anecdotes and literary history. These structural and literary aspects interlink to passionately convey the desire to reclaim her narrative voice when defining identity and race.

First published in 2019, the memoir was created from a striking moment in a classroom when McWatt was just 8. She describes an overwhelming feeling of shame when asked, ‘what are you?’ A weight of racial oppression fell heavy on her shoulders, forcing her to envelope herself within her arms until the day had ended and the class had vacated. She insists this was the moment she became a writer because it engendered a desire to be the author of her identity. Moreover, the complexity of this question is steeped in the history of her ancestors, dispersed by colonisation. Her family tree was ruptured to advance white supremacy, profiting from the exploitation of bodies for slavery. McWatt explores her convoluted heritage among transportation lines, the moving of bodies by ships to foreign lands to provide free labour. The text highlights the consequences of seeing dark skin as a commodity, educating the reader on how racial signifiers can either privilege or oppress bodies.

McWatt seamlessly connects the past and present, immerging from the narrative of her ancestors to the social commentary of her body in the modern world. She highlights how remnants of slavery are present within contemporary society with the remains of the plantation system. This system of classification maintains structural racism, aligning degrees of darkness with undesirability. She explains that narratives of race are created by the oppressor, placing darkness in opposition to beauty. ‘Acceptable blackness’ is marketed as ‘exotic’ by cosmetic companies, continuing the exploitation of the black body for profit. Intersectionality is central in the narrative, as McWatt experiences discrimination both as a woman and a person of colour. By dismantling her memoir into eyes, mouth, lips, and so on, she dissects a history of racialised bodies and in its place pieces together her own sense of identity and belonging.

Shame on Me is a beautifully woven account of McWatt’s experience with racial discrimination, intertwined with ancestry, myth, and literary texts. She reconstructs the narrative of race by dispelling assumptions of superficial features. I would recommend this memoir to anyone who is eager to engage with intersectional feminism and gain a greater understanding of how our history shapes belonging in the 21st century.