You know that feeling when a conversation goes south so fast you can't even remember where the exit ramp was? That’s the visceral, shaky-hands energy at the heart of the novel We Are Not Like Them. Co-authored by Christine Pride and Jo Piazza, this book didn't just land on the New York Times bestseller list because it’s a "race book." Honestly, it’s because it captures that specific, agonizing moment when a lifelong friendship hits a wall it might not be able to climb over.
It’s about Jen and Riley. One is white, one is Black. They’ve been ride-or-die since they were kids. But then Jen’s husband, a police officer, shoots an unarmed Black teenager. Suddenly, the "we" in their friendship isn't a given anymore.
The title itself—We Are Not Like Them—is a double-edged sword. It’s what we tell ourselves to feel safe. We aren't the bigots. We aren't the ones who don't understand. We are the exception to the rule of a divided country. But the book argues that maybe, just maybe, nobody is actually an exception.
The Reality of the "Lifelong Friend" Myth
We love the trope of the "colorblind" friendship. It's comfortable. It makes us feel like we've solved something. But Pride and Piazza, who are friends in real life (one Black, one white), wrote this specifically to dismantle that comfort. They spent years debating, crying, and arguing over the manuscript to make sure it felt real. It shows.
The story takes place in Philadelphia. It’s gritty. It’s lived-in. When Kevin, Jen's husband, shoots Justin Dwyer, the ripple effect isn't just political; it’s cellular. For Riley, a burgeoning news anchor, this isn't just a story she has to cover. It’s her life. It’s her community. For Jen, who is pregnant after years of trying, her world is collapsing. She wants her best friend to hold her hand. But how can Riley hold the hand of the woman whose husband just killed a boy who looks like Riley’s family?
It’s messy. Life is messy.
Most books about racial tension try to give you a moral high ground to stand on. This one doesn't. You feel for Jen’s desperation, even when you’re screaming at her for her blindness. You feel Riley’s exhaustion—that specific bone-deep "Black fatigue" that comes from having to explain your humanity to the person who is supposed to know you best.
Why the Perspective Shift Matters
The narrative flips between Riley and Jen. This isn't just a stylistic choice; it’s a necessity. If we only saw Riley’s side, Jen would be a villain. If we only saw Jen’s side, the tragedy of Justin Dwyer would feel like a footnote to a white woman's domestic drama.
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Instead, we get the friction.
- Riley’s perspective brings in the professional stakes. She’s trying to be the first Black female lead anchor at her station. She’s under a microscope.
- Jen’s perspective brings in the insular, terrifying world of "the thin blue line."
There is a scene where they finally sit down to talk, and it’s painful to read. It’s not a movie speech. It’s two people realizing they’ve been living in different versions of the same city for twenty years. You’ve probably had a version of this talk. Maybe it wasn't about a shooting. Maybe it was about a vote, or a comment made at dinner, or a "joke" that didn't land. That moment where the floor drops out? That’s the core of the book.
The Problem with "I Don't See Color"
For years, the gold standard of "good" people was saying they didn't see color. We Are Not Like Them effectively incinerates that idea.
When Jen says she doesn't see Riley as Black, she thinks she’s giving her a compliment. She thinks she’s saying, "I love you for you." But Riley’s response is the heart of the matter: If you don't see my color, you don't see me. You don't see the way the world treats me. You don't see the fear I have when I see a siren.
This isn't just academic. In a 2021 interview with Good Morning America, the authors discussed how they had to have these exact conversations themselves. They didn't just write a book; they lived the conflict.
The Role of the Media in We Are Not Like Them
Riley’s job as a journalist adds a layer of meta-commentary that’s actually pretty brilliant. She’s forced to "objectify" a tragedy that is deeply personal.
The book looks at how the media packages these stories. The "good kid" vs. the "troubled youth." The "hero cop" vs. the "bad apple." By putting Riley in the newsroom, the authors show us how the sausage is made—and how dehumanizing that process is for everyone involved. It’s a critique of the 24-hour news cycle that feels even more relevant today than when the book was released.
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We see the protests. We see the Twitter threads. But we also see the quiet moments in the makeup chair where Riley has to swallow her anger just to keep her job. It’s a performance. Everyone is performing.
What People Get Wrong About the Ending
(No spoilers, don't worry.)
A lot of readers want a "The Help" style ending where everyone holds hands and the systemic issues of 400 years are solved by a nice brunch. That’s not what happens here.
The ending of We Are Not Like Them is polarizing. Some people find it unsatisfying. I think it’s the only honest way to end a book like this. It’s an open wound. It suggests that friendship isn't a magic wand. Sometimes, love isn't enough to bridge a systemic chasm.
That’s a hard pill to swallow.
Moving Beyond the Page: Actionable Insights
If you’ve read the book, or if you’re living in the world and feeling that same "us vs. them" tension, just absorbing the story isn't enough. The book is a mirror.
Audit your "Inner Circle" Conversations
Take a look at your closest friendships. Do you talk about the hard stuff? Or do you avoid it to keep the peace? Avoiding the friction is how Jen and Riley ended up in a crisis. Peace bought with silence isn't actually peace; it’s just a ceasefire.
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Recognize the "Intent vs. Impact" Gap
In the book, Jen’s husband Kevin didn't intend to be a symbol of systemic racism. He was scared. He made a split-second choice. But his intent doesn't matter to the family of the boy he killed. In your own life, start looking at the impact of your words and actions rather than just your "good intentions."
Diversify Your Narrative Intake
If you liked the perspective-shifting in the book, keep going. Don't let this be the one "diverse" book you read this year. Check out authors like Brit Bennett (The Vanishing Half) or Kiley Reid (Such a Fun Age). The more perspectives you inhabit, the less likely you are to fall into the "we are not like them" trap of thinking your experience is the default.
Practice Radical Listening
When Riley tries to explain her pain, Jen gets defensive. It’s a natural human reflex. We want to protect our self-image. Next time someone tells you that something you did or said hurt them, try to sit with the discomfort for sixty seconds before you defend yourself. Just sixty seconds.
The reality is that We Are Not Like Them is more than a novel. It’s a challenge. It asks if you’re willing to see the world as it actually is, rather than how you wish it was. It’s about the work. Real friendship—the kind that survives the fire—is work.
If you're looking for a comfortable read, look elsewhere. But if you want something that makes you look at your best friend and wonder what you’re both missing, this is it. It’s uncomfortable. It’s loud. It’s necessary.
And honestly? We need more of that.