Booksology It takes a fair amount of finesse to get my teenage daughter to accompany me to a book reading at Prairie Lights. And by finesse, I mean free coffee. She’s in one of those adolescent literary moments where reading YA romance sounds a lot more fun than a grown-up book signing, especially with a politician. But as former state legislator Helen Miller began by talking about the parallels between her New Jersey upbringing and her current Iowa living, in particular as a Black woman, my daughter and I both locked in.
Drinking two iced chai drinks from the bookstore’s cafe, my daughter and I listened as Miller shared the story behind her book’s declarative title. She was vacationing in Greece with her adult daughter and her daughter’s in-laws — the source of the cover photo. “I was asked, ‘Helene, why won’t you get in the water with your grandchildren?’ And my answer was simple: I don’t swim.”
Every Black person in the audience nodded with understanding. The relationship between Black people and water has been documented in many great reads. One of my favorites is Rivers Solomon’s The Deep, a novel based on the real-life history of Black women being tossed overboard during the transatlantic slave trade. Miller’s memoir also begins with a discussion of her ancestry, traced back to the late 18th century. This is a feat for anyone in the African diaspora; many records of African Americans before the slave trade have been lost (or destroyed) throughout history.
I Don’t Swim is an expression of the historical and personal wisdom of Miller, an accomplished woman who shows how activism layered and enhanced her life’s work.
Growing up in a racially diverse New Jersey middle-class enclave that became a site for White Flight gave Miller a front-row seat to anti-racist activism in the early 1960s. No matter the shift, Miller never felt defeated. She writes: “As a lived experience in the early years of growing up, there were no limitations that I knew of in my freedom.”
The 1970s sees Miller as a young military mother, relocating to several states over the decade with her Air Force husband. Inspired by a slew of Black politicians gaining federal and national offices (“Black involvement in politics was definitely growing”), Miller decided to study law in San Diego, California. During the 1980s, Miller lived abroad for a spell, but eventually settled in the States. She connected with middle-class Black social organizations such as Jack & Jill and The Links. “They opened my eyes to the goings-on for Black Americans at the highest economic, educational, and occupational levels.”
In the 1990s, Miller moved to her current home of Fort Dodge and launched a nonprofit for creatives called Young At Art. “As a result of the endeavor, I became well known and ultimately was asked to run for an open seat in the Iowa House of Representatives in early 2002.” She served in the statehouse for 16 years, becoming the first minority on the House Agriculture Committee.
Miller’s husband was diagnosed with colon cancer in 2008. Before he passed in 2010, Miller spent her time cherishing his final years and working on behalf of Barack Obama’s first presidential campaign.
To this day, Miller continues re-examining how Black people move in the world. With such a robust look at decades of a life well spent, I Don’t Swim shows that often going forward means looking back with grace, pride and humility.
This article was originally published in Little Village’s June 2025 issue.
