What My Bones Know

It feels odd to say I enjoyed this book, but I did. Nothing more fun than reading about parental abuse and complex PTSD! Foo starts the thing out with a warning to others who might have complex PTSD, that the first four chapters are mostly a memoir about the abuse she suffered from her parents, and I wonder now what it would have been like to skip those before reading the rest.

The rest weaves her process of recognizing her traumas and various ways she tries to get some healing, and those are a nice mix of memoir and explanations (mostly explanations of how *complex* PTSD comes to be, and how its treatments can differ from other mental health treatments). The first few chapters are difficult to get through, but she layers them in such a way that it was doable. But it's raw, for sure.

I liked the bits and pieces about San Jose, and Oakland.

The best part of the book, for me, is her analysis of how racism (and in particular the model minority bullshit) helps to cause, say, a kid to make it all the way through high school while being verbally and physically abused, with nobody, adult or kid, noticing. Or if noticing, looking the other way.