Tag Archives: family
shackles under glass
My family and I were having our annual Thanksgiving slavery debate when my cousin Michelene—mother of four, employee of none—shoveled turkey in her mouth, pointed a Hennessey-laced finger at me and said, “You’d be in the big house making lighty-white … Continue reading
Filed under Memoir
dodging the bullet
My mother wondered out loud why I wasn’t married. We were standing in the window of her country kitchen watching her fourth husband hunt small birds in the driveway of their California cul-de-sac. My stepfather, a man who hated anyone … Continue reading
Filed under Memoir
