At one O’Clock, Miss Celia comes in the kitchen and says she’s ready for her first cooking lesson. She settles on a stool. She’s wearing a tight red sweater and a red skirt and enough makeup to scare a hooker.
I reckon that’s the risk you run, letting somebody else raise you chilluns.
Who knew heartbreak would be so goddamn hot.
Im a Southerner – I never take satisfaction in touching a nerve.
I started writing it the day after Sept. 11. I was living in New York City. We didnt have any phone service and we didnt have any mail. Like a lot of writers do, I started to write in a voice that I missed.
If singing was a color, it would’ve been the color of that chocolate.
It can be really powerful to write something when youre sad.
I have never been more proud of the United States than I am this year. We have elected an African-American president. We have the stellar Michelle Obama setting the standard for American women. I simply cannot say it enough: look how far we’ve come.
Cause everbody care. Black, white, deep down we all do.
Having a separate bathroom for the black domestic was just the way things were done. It had faded out in new homes by the time the ’70s and ’80s rolled up.
I grew up in the 1970s, but I don’t think a whole lot had changed from the ’60s. Oh, it had changed in the law books – but not in the kitchens of white homes.
Some readers tell me, ‘We always treated our maid like she was a member of the family.’ You know, that’s interesting, but I wonder what your maid’s perspective was on that.
Why don’t we just build you an house outside Hilly?
President Kennedy’s assassination, less than two weeks ago, has struck the world dumb. It’s like no one wants to be the first to break the silence. Nothing seems important.
Because ain’t that white people for you, wondering if they are happy enough.
And why? Because they are suffocating within the lines that define their town and their times. And sometimes lines are made to be crossed.
I may not remember my name or what country I live in, but you and that pie is something I will never forget.
She already got the blue dress on I ironed this morning, the one with sixty-five pleats on the waist, so tiny I got to squint through my glasses to iron. I don’t hate much in life, but me and that dress is not on good terms.
And if your friends make fun of you for chasing your dream, remember – just lie.
Lord, I never seen blue hair on a black woman before or since. Leroy say you look like a cracker from outer space.