'My Government Means to Kill Me' by Rasheed Newson
- Reed
- Jun 30
- 3 min read
Author: Rasheed Newson
Rating: A
Vibe: Fierce coming-of-age meets AIDS activism with unflinching honesty and heart
Quick Take: A masterfully paced novel that transforms personal survival into political awakening—essential reading.
I've been thinking about My Government Means to Kill Me, and I keep coming back to how Rasheed Newson managed to write a book that feels both intimate and historic, both heartbreaking and empowering. This isn't just another AIDS crisis novel—it's a story about finding your voice when the world wants you silent, told through a Black queer lens that brings fresh urgency to familiar territory.
The story follows Trey Singleton, an 18-year-old Black gay man who flees his family's expectations in Indiana for the dangerous freedom of 1980s New York. What starts as a survival story—Trey hustling to stay alive in a city that doesn't care if he lives or dies—gradually transforms into something much more powerful as he becomes involved with ACT UP and the fight for AIDS awareness and treatment. Newson weaves Trey's personal journey against the backdrop of government indifference, medical negligence, and a community fighting for its life.
The character development here is extraordinary. Newson doesn't rush Trey's transformation from someone just trying to survive to someone willing to risk everything for the cause. Every step feels earned, authentic, and deeply human. You watch this young man discover not just his sexuality but his voice, his anger, and his capacity for love in the face of unimaginable loss. It's the kind of character arc that reminds you why novels matter—because they can show us how people change, how they grow into themselves even when the world is ending around them.
What sets this book apart is how Newson centers the Black queer experience within the AIDS crisis narrative. Too often, stories from this era default to white gay male perspectives, but Newson shows us how race complicated every aspect of survival—from family rejection to medical care to activism itself.
The emotional weight of this book is staggering. Newson doesn't shy away from the devastating reality of watching an entire generation disappear, and some of the scenes where Trey interacts with people dying of AIDS are absolutely gut-wrenching. There's one moment involving a makeshift hospice that still gives me chills—the way Newson captures both the horror and the tenderness of caring for the dying when no one else will. These aren't just plot points; they're human moments that honor the real people who lived and died during this crisis.
I also appreciated the historical details Newson weaves throughout—it serves the story rather than overwhelming it. And the pacing is just masterful. This could have easily become a depressing slog, but Newson knows exactly when to pull back, when to find moments of joy or humor or connection that keep you turning pages.
My Government Means to Kill Me is the kind of book that reminds you literature can be both beautiful and necessary. It's a coming-of-age story, a historical novel, a love letter to activism, and a memorial all at once. For gay men especially, it's a powerful reminder of how we got here—and how much courage it took for the people who came before us to fight for our right to exist. Essential reading that somehow manages to be heartbreaking and hopeful in equal measure.
