They hooted and laughed all the way back to the car, teasing Milkman, egging him on to tell more about how scared he was. And he told them. Laughing too, hard, loud, and long. Really laughing, and he found himself exhilarated by simply walking the earth. Walking it like he belonged on it; like his legs were stalks, tree trunks, a part of his body that extended down down down into the rock and soil, and were comfortable there – on the earth and on the place where he walked. And he did not limp.
How can I take crime shows seriously where the female detectives track killers in Louboutin heels?
But then Job was a man. Invisibility was intolerable to men. What complaint would a female Job dare to put forth? And if, having done so, and He deigned to remind her of how weak and ignorant she was, where was the news in that? What shocked Job into humility and renewed fidelity was the message a female Job would have known and heard every minute of her life.
Good for you. More it hurt more better it is. Can’t nothing heal without pain, you know.
Because each had discovered years before that they were neither white nor male, and that all freedom and triumph was forbidden to them, they had set about creating something else to be.
What you want to be when you grow up?” Thomas turned the knob with his left hand and opened the door. “A man,” he said and left.
They did not believe death was accidental – life might be, but death was deliberate.
At least she’s willing to figure it out, do something, risk something and take its measure. I risk nothing. I sit on a throne and identify signs of imperfection in others.
The sun and the moon shared the horizon in a distant friendship, each unfazed by the other.
It was lovely. Not to be stared at, not seen, but being pulled into view by the interested, uncritical eyes of the other.
We were two throats and one eye and we had no price.
Things got better but I still had to be careful. Very careful in how I raised her. I had to be strict, very strict. Lula Ann needed to learn how to behave, how to keep her head down and not to make trouble. I don’t care how many times she changes her name. Her color is a cross she will always carry. But it’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. It’s not. Bride I’m scared.
From the beginning, his mother and Pilate had fought for his life, and he had never so much as made either of them a cup of tea.
There is honey in this land sweeter than any I know of, and I have cut cane in places where the dirt itself tasted like sugar, so that’s saying a heap.
She is convinced that when language dies, out of carelessness, disuse, indifference and absence of esteem, or killed by fiat, not only she herself, but all users and makers are accountable for its demise. In her country children have bitten their tongues off and use bullets instead to iterate the voice of speechlessness, of disabled and disabling language, of language adults have abandoned altogether as a device for grappling with meaning, providing guidance, or expressing love.
Don’t let anybody, anybody convince you this is the way the world is and therefore must be. It must be the way it ought to be.
If you are free, you need to free somebody else. If you have some power, then your job is to empower somebody else.
Everybody knew what she was called, but nobody anywhere knew her name. Disremembered and unaccounted for, she cannot be lost because no one is looking for her, and even if they were, how can they call her if they don’t know her name?
The things that help you sleep all the way through it. Back-breaking labor might do it; or liquor. Surely a body – friendly if not familiar – lying next to you. Someone whose touch is a reassurance, not an affront or a nuisance. Whose heavy breathing neither enrages nor disgusts, but amuses you like that of a cherished pet.
When I woke up I reminded myself that freedom is never free. You have to fight for it. Work for it and make sure you are able to handle it. Now.