Born a Crime

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Run

Sometimes in big Hollywood movies they ll have these crazy chase scenes where somebody jumps or gets thrown from a moving car. The person hits the ground and rolls for a bit. Then they come to a stop and pop up and dust themselves off, like it was no big deal. Whenever I see that I think, That s rubbish. Getting thrown out of a moving car hurts way worse than that.

I was nine years old when my mother threw me out of a moving car. It happened on a Sunday. I know it was on a Sunday because we were coming home from church, and every Sunday in my childhood meant church. We never missed church. My mother was ­and still is ­ a deeply religious woman. Very Christian. Like indigenous peoples around the world, black South Africans adopted the religion of our colonizers. By adopt I mean it was forced on us. The white man was quite stern with the native. You need to pray to Jesus, he said. Jesus will save you. To which the native replied, Well, we do need to be saved ­saved from you, but that s beside the point. So let s give this Jesus thing a shot.

My whole family is religious, but where my mother was Team Jesus all the way, my grandmother balanced her Christian faith with the traditional Xhosa beliefs she d grown up with, communicating with the spirits of our ancestors. For a long time I didn t understand why so many black people had abandoned their indigenous faith for Christianity. But the more we went to church and the longer I sat in those pews the more I learned about how Christianity works: If you re Native American and you pray to the wolves, you re a savage. If you re African and you pray to your ancestors, you re a primitive. But when white people pray to a guy who turns water into wine, well, that s just common sense.

My childhood involved church, or some form of church, at least four nights a week. Tuesday night was the prayer meeting. Wednesday night was Bible study. Thursday night was Youth church. Friday and Saturday we had off. (Time to

Trevor Noah

A soul-nourishing pleasure . . . an enormous gift. USA Today
 
By turns alarming, sad and funny . . . not just an unnerving account of growing up in South Africa under apartheid, but a love letter to the author s remarkable mother. Michiko Kakutani, The New York Times

You d be hard-pressed to find a comic s origin story better than the one Trevor Noah serves up in Born a Crime. . . . Witty truth-telling . . . brilliant comedy. O: The Oprah Magazine

Remarkable . . . smart . . . extraordinary . . . essential reading on every level. The Seattle Times

[Noah] thrives with the help of his astonishingly fearless mother. . . . Their fierce bond makes this story soar. People
 
When I think of Trevor Noah, the first image I see is from his brilliant memoir, Born a Crime, of Trevor s mother throwing him out of a moving vehicle while he s asleep in order to save his life. Through other eyes this could be remembered as traumatic and harrowing. Through Trevor s it is bonding and hilarious, a testament to the love of someone who truly had to think on their feet. That is how Trevor sees the world. A fantastic storyteller, he has always been a defier of rules, which he broke simply by being born in his native country. Lupita Nyong o, Time

Noah s not the main character in his own story his mother is the constant . . . and by the end, Noah lovingly makes clear that the book belongs to her. . . . Noah proves to be a gifted storyteller, able to deftly lace his poignant tales with amusing irony. Entertainment Weekly

[An] unforgettable memoir. Parade

This isn t your average comic-writes-a-memoir: It s a unique look at a man who is a product of his culture and a nuanced look at a part of the world whose people have known dark times easily pushed aside. Refinery29

[Noah s] electrifying memoir sparkles with funny stories . . . and his candid and compassionate essays deepen our