New BIPOC Memoirs to Read This Fall

Very few actors have been front and center in so many culturally historic moments as LeVar Burton. From playing Kunta Kinte on Roots to Geordi La Forge on Star Trek, and being the host on Reading Rainbow—one might even say that Burton has embodied and portrayed many aspects of America’s past, present, and its (hopeful) future. Here, he traces his life, first as a child experiencing the Civil Rights Movement, then his acting career, and later his advocacy for literacy. He fills in the moments in between his major roles to show the struggle and resilience it has taken to lead such a remarkable life.

Misogynoir is a helluva thing, and online misogynoir has proven to be especially common and destructive. Here, veteran White House correspondent April Ryan looks back at a viral moment with President Trump, the intense scrutiny that it brought about, and the cost of speaking up authentically. But she also zooms out, looking at what having a voice and being visible—especially as a Black woman—can mean, as things like power, race, and gender influence public perception.

This short memoir was born from a piece first published in The New Yorker in 2019. Murakami explores his relationship with his father, who might have been a priest like his own father, but became a soldier in WWII instead. He was then a successful writer of haiku, and later a teacher. You’d think these things would make him close to his son Haruki, but the two end up estranged for 20 years. They only reconnected, really, on his deathbed, hence this memoir, which examines what being a father and a son mean.

This companion to the award-winning Mexikid finds Pedro looking for every opportunity to escape the strawberry fields where he and his family have to work on weekends and in the summer. It’s only when he comes to understand why they’re out there picking berries that he can fully appreciate the chance to follow his dreams when the opportunity finally arrives. —Eileen Gonzalez

This has to be one of my all-time favorite graphic memoir series, and the great thing is you don’t necessarily have to read them in order (though it’d be better if you did). In this latest snippet of Huda’s life, we follow the teen during the summer after her high school graduation, when she is ready for love. But is love ready for her is the question. She’s got great new supportive friends, and she’s getting set up with lots of eligible guys her age, but gender roles and her ambitions start to clash. All of it has her wondering if she can be happy and have it all.

The gorgeous cover of this book almost made me register it as fiction or poetry rather than nonfiction. While it is lyrical—having been written by a poet and all—it is actually a mix of memoir and cultural criticism that looks at the alienness that (white) American culture projects onto East Asian women. Using their own experience as a queer person, Choi peels back the layers surrounding the many cyborgs and robots across American media that bear an East Asian femme appearance.