The average person knows that she wrote I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings or they remember her inaugural speech for President Clinton, On the Pulse of Morning. You may know her for her poetic stylings in Still I Rise or for the younger generation, as an elder in Tyler Perry movies.
Readers, I'm here to tell you that Madame Angelou has lived! I picked up her then complete collection as a freshmen in college 20 years ago and was blown away. The books shown below cover her life from the beginning with I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings (1969); the ages 17 through 19 as a single mother working as a prostitute and madam in a brothel in Gather Together in My Name (1974); Singin' and Swingin' and Gettin' Merry Like Christmas (1976) covers her marriage to a Greek sailor, her dance career (did you know she once partnered with THE Alvin Ailey), and the recording of her first album. The Heart of A Woman (1981) reflects on her time as a member of the noted Harlem Writer's Guild; her time in Egypt and Ghana; her close friendship with Malcolm X; and raising a black man in America. All God's Children Need Traveling Shoes (1986) finds her back in the United States working as a songwriter for Roberta Flack, writing short stories and preparing for her role in Alex Haley's Roots miniseries.
In her latest, Mom & Me & Mom, she finally touches upon the backbone of her greatness. If you're like me, you remember that in I Know Why... she mentions being raised by her grandmother in Arkansas, briefly mentioning her time in California with her mother and then jumps straight into being an adult. There is so much that was missing and it's covered now.
With a mother like Vivian Baxter, I don't know how Maya Angelou could have been anything but great. There's nothing like a mother's love and Vivian stood in the gap for Maya like no one else could. The confidence she instilled in Maya at a young age and support she continued to give her throughout her life was just amazing. Not only did she serve as a sounding board and backbone for her daughter, she served as one for her communities. She was a truly amazing woman for her time and Maya came by her spunk honestly.
When I tell you Madam Angelou has lived a full life, she truly has. As an impressionable young woman, I was so blown away by her story. Recounting now all that she has done in the time period that's not even covered by these books is even more stunning. My hope is that you will take the time to read all of her autobiographies and get to know and appreciate this woman who is truly an American treasure.
224pp
Published: April 2013 Disclaimer: Copy of book received from publisher, opinions are my own.
Sudha and Anju aren't sisters by blood, yet in the true sense of the word, they're sisters and more. Raised in the same house by their widowed mothers, the girls grow up believing that they're cousins. To say that they cannot live without each other is an understatement and, by their actions, often prove that they love each other more than they love themselves.
The beautiful Sudha has always dreamed of having a family, but only after college and once she's established herself as a designer. Studious Anju loves the literary classics. She wants nothing more than to run the family bookstore once she's completed her degree. Love and marriage are for the beautiful people like Sudha, all Anju needs is books and enough money to remove some of the stress her mother has carried on her shoulders for so many years.
But as the saying goes, "the best laid plans of mice and men go astray," and neither Sudha nor Anju finds herself leading the life she'd planned. Misunderstandings and a lack of communication drive a wedge between the formerly inseparable sisters. Unbeknownst to them, the fracture in their symbiotic relationship affects all of their decisions, ultimately leading them to conclude that without their other half, their lives are incomplete.
Sister of My Heart is a beautiful tale of friendship. It was heartbreaking to see the two struggle for so long needlessly. Sudha spends her life trying to right wrongs she believes her father did to Anju's father. Anju spends her adult years resenting Sudha for something Sudha can't control and is unaware of. The story has so many twists and turns, you won't be able to put it down until you're done.
Globetrotting journalist Raquel Cepeda takes readers around the world from New York to the Dominican Republic to Morocco and back again in Bird of Paradise: How I Became Latina. If ever there was a book that meets the guidelines for the Books: Passports to the World challenge, this is it. There's a lot of information to digest within the pages, but it's well worth the read.
Born the daughter of an idealistic mother and an unaffectionate father, the young Raquel spends much of her time trying to figure out where she fits. That applies to both her home life, which is turbulent, and, later, her school life. Upon being sent to the Dominican Republic to be raised by her grandparents following her parent's divorce, her childhood happiness peaks. Her mother brings her back to the States, a puzzling decision since she seems to have no use for her, where she witnesses domestic violence on a daily basis. Eventually, Raquel is sent to her father and stepmother in New York, and they seem to have little use for her either. Verbally abused by her father, and occasionally a victim of domestic violence, Raquel merely bides her time until she can leave for college.
While most teens seek solace in her friends and classmates, the author finds little comfort there either. In America, there is a tendency to categorize people. We want people to fit into a "checkable" box. As a daughter of the diaspora, Raquel felt a kindred connection to other people of color, but for her black classmates, she was too white and for her white classmates, she was too black. So there was a separation by skin tone and even more, a separation between those Dominican students who had been in America for a while and those who had recently emigrated.
I believe that everything happens for a reason and after reading this book, I think Cepeda does too. Her childhood and young adult experiences eventually lead her on a journey to find out more about her family's ancestry. While she could go the genealogical route, she's more interested in finding out where her people originated. Yes, they ended up in the Dominican Republic, but how did they get there? What is their ethnic origin? What is the history of relations between Africa and the island? And why does she feel so drawn to una india, an Amerindian or Indigenous-American spiritual guide?
Occasionally I have a-ha moments with books, I had quite a few with Bird of Paradise. The one that stands out most is the whitening of the country. While Hitler was killing Jews in Europe, Rafael Trujillo was doing the same to Haitians, sanctioning the killing of 20,000 Haitians in what became known as the Parsley Massacre. To further whiten his nation, he encouraged Europeans, those fleeing Hitler especially, to emigrate to the Dominican Republic. Trujillo's suppression of all things African was continued by his successors up until 1996.
Another a-ha moment came as I read about the fluidity of race in the Dominican Republic. The U.S. has long practiced the one drop rule, in which one drop of African/African-American blood means you're black. In the DR, it is the opposite. One sixteenth of white blood means you're white. Darker Dominicans who have attained a higher financial or social status can be deemed white as well. Fascinating stuff indeed.
So I know I've rambled on much longer in this review than usual, but it's the perfect blend of storytelling and science. It's a fascinating read for all of my genealogical/anthropological readers, as well as my memoir readers. It should be noted that there are phrases sprinkled throughout in Spanish, but that shouldn't dissuade you from reading it. Some of them are translated, others are not. If you have a basic knowledge of any of the romance languages, you should be able to infer what is being said.
336pp
Published: March 2013 Disclaimer: Copy of book received from publisher, opinions are my own.
The Dominican Republic has long been viewed primarily as an exporter of sugar, coffee, and tobacco, but in recent years the service sector has overtaken agriculture as the economy's largest employer, due to growth in telecommunications, tourism, and free trade zones. The economy is highly dependent upon the US, the destination for more than half of exports. - CIA World Factbook
Location: Caribbean, eastern two-thirds of the island of Hispaniola, between the Caribbean Sea and the North Atlantic Ocean, east of Haiti Size: 48,670 sq km; slightly more than twice the size of New Hampshire Ethnic groups: Mixed 73%, white 16%, black 11% Languages: Spanish (official) Population: 10,088,598
Last year for my birthday, I wanted to go to Savannah. I made plans with friends and they all fell through. I didn't go because I didn't want to travel alone. Instead, I spent the day at a day spa that I hope to never set foot in again, got a hair cut, had lunch with my dad and squealed with glee over gifts from the guy I was dating at the time. Overall, it was a decent birthday, but it wasn't what I really wanted.
This year I decided that come hell or high water, I was going to Jamaica. I mentioned it to friends, most of whom wanted to go. I threw out dates, gave them deadlines, received assurances that they would indeed attend...and I got crickets. Mentioned it to the guy I had been dating and he asked if I could wait until February to go. Dude, you do understand that this is for my birthday, right? And my birthday is in October, right? So going in February kind of misses the point, right? When it came down to deadlines, dates and what not, no one came through. So what's a woman to do? She rolls solo.
I'll admit that I was hesitant to go by myself. I've been to Jamaica several times, so I was already familiar with parts of the island, but I've never gone alone. I wanted to stay some place that would allow me to do as much or as little as I wanted. I didn't want to stay at a couples resort and stick out like a sore thumb, but I also didn't want to stay at a super family friendly place and be surrounded by kids. I had to have a spa on site and I had to have a beach. And I found those things and a little bit more.
Las Brisas Beach, Lucea, Jamaica
Most mornings after breakfast, I set up shop in a shady spot on the beach. Though I tried to read, I found myself just staring at the water for hours. Okay, I did pause to grab a drink (or two or three) from the bar. I chitchatted with those around me. But mostly I just sat in silence and let the stress in my shoulders slowly melt away.
I did venture off site a few times and was highly amused by first time visitors to the island. At a local craft market, I watched naive newlyweds get suckered into buying items they'd have no need for later or "one of of kind" wood carvings that they'd surely see in another store at a lower price. I waved off some vendors and talked with others, while answering the often asked question, "Sis, are you Jamaican?" I still haven't figured out what triggered that question, but in my week there, I was asked that no less than three times a day.
Sunset at Rick's Cafe, Negril
I laughed at a German woman who kept staring at me at dinner one night trying to figure out where my dinner companion was, all while she looked terribly bored with whatever it was her husband was saying to her. I gaped at a young couple arguing another night (seriously, who argues in paradise???), which resulted in him leaving the table abruptly and her chasing after him. You know who wasn't bored and who wasn't arguing with anyone? Me. I set my own scheduled, changed my mind without needing to run anything by anyone and had the best vacation ever.
On the shuttle back to the airport I met some twentysomethings from Wisconsin who were amazed that I'd traveled alone. They asked for suggestions on how to do it successfully. The following is what I shared with them.
Now what works for some may not work for others, but first and foremost, you have to be okay with spending time with yourself. As an emptynester, I'm used to doing things by myself. If you can't imagine going out to dinner or to the movies alone, a solo trip probably isn't for you.
I'm an introvert by nature. I can go a whole weekend without actually speaking to anyone. Social media provides as much of an outlet as I need at times. Whether you're an introvert or extrovert, pick a resort that offers activities that fit your behavior.
Do your research. These ladies picked a resort based on its website. A lot of places use stock pictures and that's exactly what their hotel did. They were disappointed in the hotel and their area of the beach. As a result, they'd been ready to go home long before their trip was over. Check out sites like tripadvisor.com, where previous guests post honest reviews and pictures, before booking your hotel.
And lastly, use common sense. Don't go wandering off with someone you don't know. You may be in paradise, but anything can happen.
I didn't miss traveling with a companion. The hours I spent on the beach, the time I spent at the spa, the peace of mind I found, I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. The freedom to set my own course was worth every dime I spent. As far as getting my groove back, I'm no Stella. It turns out I never lost it
Ruby Mae Garrett looked out for herself and made no apologies for it. From the moment she saw Arnett Dupree, she was a woman possessed. Actually, she was a girl possessed, but at 16, she thought she was a woman. So when her strict mother caught wind of Ruby Mae sneaking off with the horn player, she put an end to it. Never one to be outdone, Ruby Mae had to have the last word and the day she left her parent's house was the last day she spoke to them.
Nicole-Marie Roxane grew up loving all things French. Her infatuation started with a small, blue French to English dictionary she found in her parent's cedar chest. Speaking French with her father strengthened their special bond. One day the dictionary was gone and not another word about it or French was spoken.
Fast forward to present day, 56 year old Nicole is tired of watching life pass her by. She's wasted over half of her life on a married man who still dangles the "I'll leave my wife and marry you when the time is right" carrot in front of her. If it wasn't for her friend insisting that she go to Paris, Nicole probably would have continued to only dream of going. But she's finally on her way to 30 days of exploring the country that's always fascinated her.
When Nicole's explorations lead to the discovery of a picture of her father in his military uniform over fifty years ago, she has to know why the picture is there, who owned it and what their connection is to her Alzheimer suffering father. Though her mother offers little information over the phone, she does send her enough information to set Nicole off on a fact finding mission, knowing that she may not like what finds out.
As we've seen in Searching for Tina Turner, and as she again shows us in Passing Love, Jacqueline Luckett writes books about women who we rarely see as the protagonist. As was Lena in Searching, Nicole is a woman of a certain age. Both women feel under-valued and -appreciated by the people in their lives and set off on journeys to rediscover their self-worth and, of course, by the end of the books, they have.
I stumbled upon the author's blog back in December and thought the premise was absolutely fascinating. I don't necessarily have a desire to live abroad, but traveling abroad is definitely on the must do list. It's too bad that this book is less about Vine's experience living abroad while identifying as a black woman and more about her self-hate.
The author spends time as a college student in Spain, which was of great interest since it's on my bucket list of places to visit. Unfortunately, she glosses over the experience. Instead, she chooses to dwell on meeting her Dutch boyfriend in Washington, DC; moving to New Orleans to live with him; and eventually following him back to the Netherlands.
So I'm thinking, okay, show me what the Netherlands has to offer a brown woman. But other than a few passages here and there, I didn't get that either. What I got was a book about a woman who was taught to distrust other black women and to marry a white man talking about how difficult it was to raise a child while working. That happens to women all over the world daily, right? Is it book worthy? I suppose. But it wasn't what I was looking for.
Circling back to my comment about the author's self-hate, there is no doubt based on her comments that the seeds of hatred were planted by her mother. It lives on in the author's belief as a college student that if she were light with long hair by Lisa Bonet that she'd be more readily accepted by her peers.
I'd already heard that a girl from my high school had commented that “Carolyn isn’t black anymore; she hangs out with white people.” I kept my mouth shut and went into a self-imposed exile from the black community and took refuge in the white, where androgyny was acceptable and sexuality forbidden (so I believed), the only safe place for a black girl like me who needed to get away from the expectations of black people regarding the way I spoke, who I had sex with, the grades I got, who my friends should be, which sports I could play, what music I could listen to, and the list goes on.
I was disheartened by her view of the black community as bad overall, while the white community represented safety. In fact, it seems that at some point she starts to see herself as "other" as if being black was less than any other race.
I couldn’t articulate my most terrifying fear of not working: I’d become a white woman, and I couldn’t have that. As a child trying to visualize what I wanted to be when I grew up, a white housewife never even made the shortlist. On the contrary, I imagined myself single and supporting my kids on my executive’s salary. In a few words – a strong, independent, black woman who didn’t need anybody, not even the father of my children. After all, it was my birthright, handed down to me from my mother who’d inherited it from her mother and so on for generations.
I would love to have a conversation with her and ask at what point did being a housewife become synonymous with being a white woman, while struggling to survive became synonymous with being a black woman. And yes, we're all aware of what TV and the media show us, but we know that women of all races are housewives and women of all races struggle. And if you see that your mother struggled, why would you readily accept that that's your fate?
The author also seems to have a romanticized view of her current homeland. Though a Dutch magazine did a spread in December 2011 about Rihanna with a headline calling her a "Niggerbitch," Vines would have us believe that the Netherlands are post-racial. In fact, in her mind they don't see race at all. However, she contradicts herself.
For example, Dutch television broadcast positive images of blacks that I’d never seen in America... Blacks were not depicted as stereotypes but as part of the Dutch community, participating in healthy relationships. They were not shown leading “black” lives, they were leading Dutch lives.
The America I grew up in disparaged black culture, relegating it to the margins of mainstream culture.Black Americans, including myself, internalized the message that we were of no consequence, mere outcasts trespassing on the American Dream. Dutch people, on the other hand, were curious about my black culture, taking a genuine interest in its particularities.
Many Dutch people were quick to deny their ancestors’ role as the oppressor, which I’d found unsettling, at the very least. Rationalizations abounded, such as Dutch slave owners not being as cruel as the Spanish or their not being involved with the slave trade as long as the French or that Dutch slavers hadn’t shipped as many Africans as the English. Dutch people themselves had admitted that their educational system, formal and informal, had glossed over Dutch colonial history.
However, the gravest problem I could see was that the Dutch didn’t question their country’s involvement in the colonization of Asia and America and the enslavement of Africans, just as they did not question Black Pete, even amidst the reproach he inspired. In my opinion Black Pete would be an ideal starting point for the Dutch to engage their racial politics.
Also disturbing to me was the author's need to talk about her sister's alcoholism in a way that almost seemed to belittle her. It was almost if she was using that particular chapter to show that she had "made" it while her sister fell prey to the exact men and life that her mother had always predicted for her. So the author is winning at life by playing by the rules her mother laid out.
So what did I take away from this book? The author is proud of her marriage to a Dutchman (which her mother surely approved of, though she didn't bother attending the wedding) and her biracial daughters. She finally found a group of women of color, mostly married to Dutchmen, that she can relate to, thereby disproving her mother's notion that other black women can't be trusted. Meh.
The average person knows that she wrote I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings or they remember her inaugural speech for President Clinton, On the Pulse of Morning. You may know her for her poetic stylings in Still I Rise or for the younger generation, as an elder in Tyler Perry movies.
