I grew up in a house where the art on the walls depicted the black experience and was either painted, sculpted, produced and sold by black artists and merchants. The music, composed and sung by black musicians and the books, written by black authors. Most of them, black women. Among those authors that made up the majority of my mother’s collection of treasures were Ms Maya Angelou, Zane, Ms Alice Walker and Ms Toni Morrison.
Ever curious about anything belonging to my mother, I read the masterpiece that is Beloved in 2005 and recently picked up my own copy, completely by chance two months ago. Looking back, it was almost as if some indescribable ancestral force pulled me into the Barnes and Noble on 46th and 5th of all places, for some reason, to purchase that book.
Ms. Morrison’s words are a home. A safe haven. A place you are loved, at your best and even more deep, at your worst. A place that no matter what you achieve or who you become will always be a guide. A place you can always come back to and know you are protected.
Her words have been woven into my upbringing like the crochet blankets, knitted by my grandmother and her mother and mothers mother. Blankets that are never out of arm’s reach and remind us of what was, what is and what could be. Hard not to smile big knowing the many daughters and sons who are only now discovering them as result of her transition and the overflow of praise and gratitude today for her and them. I pray that I’m fortunate enough to expose my own child to the genius of our beloved one day.
Words that will continue to, as they have for so long and for so many, shift, awaken, teach, provoke, inform, motivate and inspire. Thank you, Ms. Morrison for the gift. For the hope of a brighter and more balanced tomorrow. For the belief that true freedom does exists.
“Freeing yourself was one thing, claiming ownership of that freed self was another.”
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