Thoughts on Born a Crime by Trevor Noah

If there’s a book I have invariably gone back to every year since I first read it in 2020, it is Born a Crime by Trevor Noah. 

Well… this seems quite a stretch, doesn’t it? 

It’s just a book about a man talking about his mom, his race(s), his culture and country, the universally distributed stupidity of human beings, and, in the face of all of it, his tenacity. However, for someone who had a bit too much time during the pandemic at home watching The Daily Show and a ton of stand up routines, this book stands for more than just six years of cultivating an increasingly elaborate parasocial relationship.

I like a million things about this book that would make me force it into the hands of anyone getting into reading but most importantly, I love the relatability, and the commentary before each chapter to put things into perspective. Intelligent humor is to be expected because well, obviously a seasoned comedian wrote it but the emotional rollercoaster the pages take me through is where I give the book a gold star. 

I am but an Indian reading this book in India and now in the USA about a mixed kid born in apartheid affected South Africa who grew up in its vestiges. There seems to be nothing in common between us and yet, a thousand things which I can point out. Let me get out of my system what’s different though. That guy is rich, famous and funny.

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<Cough cough … Spoiler alert>

Before I officially begin my “commentary” on the book, I would like to thank my mom and Trevor Noah’s mom for producing us, and for having such an enormous effect on our lives (separately of course). I can safely say we would be nothing without you being there to love us, guide us and most importantly – whoop our asses. 

Some of my absolute favorite interactions in the book were between Patricia Noah and her son. They were witty, argumentative, logical and emotional. It also goes on to show how human experiences across different cultures are so shared and learned. Most Indian moms have unleashed household ammo on their kids for being naughty, stupid and trying to be over-smart. If I remember correctly, my most recent story was being struck by a USB cable for trying to knock logic in a conversation. In retrospect, these were probably the funniest incidents of my life (yeah, it was a pretty boring life).

However, I hold a deep appreciation for how Patricia raised Trevor — to look beyond the color of his skin and outside the window of a beat up Volkswagen. I cannot speak enough about how my mom did the same for me – as a working woman who handles idiots, smartasses and genuine people from all walks of life inside and outside our home. She and my dad are in fact the ones who forced me to look beyond the f-ed up education and competitive system in my country and fight for a fair chance based on meritocracy and crazy connections abroad.

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Chocolates are white, milk, dark, velvet, etc. I love chocolates. What I don’t love is when someone comes right up to my face and starts treating me based on my chocolatey skin. A lot of people abroad do not know and those in India might overlook this, but we have a very deranged system about skin color and caste. For me, I have always understood skin color as an after-effect of thousands of years of evolution and migration (simple biology and geography). How on earth can you be mad at someone for being born?

Apartheid is definitely one of the worst racial segregation systems in history and if you compare it to an Indian counterpart (structurally different but a parallel on how social hierarchies are constructed and maintained), you have an elaborate caste system which has been entrenched over thousands of years (since before Christ). Trevor does a wonderful job describing a serious topic and its ramifications, delicately balancing humor and gravity. When I was reading the book, I could visualize the gears turning in my head about the similarities and the obvious ridiculousness behind all of it, not to mention the tension I felt at times. I cannot remember if I have been persecuted for being born in my caste, but there are millions of people who are treated inhumanely on a daily basis in India where even simply touching a water pump can become a cause of wild bloodshed. 

What struck me most was how people were divided and ruled over, persecuted, denied a fair chance at life, and then left to fend for themselves without the proverbial fishing rod when the time came. India has attempted, imperfectly and controversially, to address historical exclusion through affirmative-action policies such as reservations (though there is a growing opposition to these supportive programs). I do not want to dilute the seriousness of these systems anywhere (neither back home nor in any part of the world). All these likenesses and contrasts make me appreciate the opportunities I got for being born where I was and for being sheltered against the atrocities of our society.

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There are just so many wonderful stories from a South African childhood and this is why autobiography is my favorite genre. You are allowed a look inside people’s lives and understand why and how they came to be. I love his hustle culture stories and ability to adapt anywhere (though I understand how slowly time must have passed for him then), but primarily the acceptance of his lifestyle and journey. A lot of people might not want to admit the financial difficulties or awkward phases of their lives and it’s totally understandable, but there is always a sense of admiration and respect for those who do. And Trevor Noah does it ever so elegantly.

Every time I need to be grounded, I read this book and am reminded of my parents’ words — to remain humble yet resilient in the face of distress, and to ease up a bit because life is not supposed to be taken all so seriously. I would have loved to write much more on what I came to think about Noah’s relationship with God (and dump in the kitchen), probably ask him given a chance – how he is today, him being influenced by the USA, etc. but most importantly in the interest of attention span for reading amateur blogs, I just want to write, “Where is Teddy, Trevor?”

Seriously though, do give the book a read. It is not as serious as this blog yet holds more gravitas than what most difficult books and articles try to convey about the idea of growing up feeling and being different. I had a ball reading the book and can’t wait to read the next one on Trevor Noah’s adventures in the United States of America. He could probably title it as “Living Not a Criminal” or something more interesting!