the grip of white supremacy

To hear Brandi read this week’s essay, click here: https://youtu.be/ZkrUdS534QQ

My six year old asked me if policemen want to hurt her because she is Black. Her crushing question hung in the air while I struggled to decide what to privilege in that moment. Her need to brace herself for the hate that would come her way? Her need to trust the power structures of society? Her need to be a little girl? Her need to survive into adulthood? Her need to understand the world around her?

White supremacy forces the parents of Brown kids to forfeit their innocence in order to keep them alive.

This week, when she asked me that horrible question, I privileged her need for emotional safety. I told her no one wanted to hurt her. That she was safe with me. That policemen were there to help. That she could trust the people around her.

I lied to her. I did it to protect her six year old sense of self. She needs to trust that the world will welcome all she might bring to any environment. I join a centuries-long list of other mamas struggling to bottle the rage I feel about the unjust world she enters as a Black female. How long will we allow kids to wonder if they are seen as creative assets or as destructive drains on society? I wanted to give my daughter an answer that was true and comforting to her at the same time.

White supremacy removes that option.

She asked the question because she is taking in her surroundings. She is watching her world. My daughter and I are beginning a conversation shared by thousands of kids and parents all across our country. I am not the first mom to wonder how much truth her child can handle. The Talk has been popularized across culture recently by artists like Ta-Nehisi Coates and Kenya Barris. What might be less understood is that the talk doesn’t begin when your kid gets a later curfew for the first time. The subject of white authority mistreating Black bodies is not first broached when car keys are tossed across the table, caught by young, eager hands. No. The talk begins when a child spends any time outside the home, and every time American history is mentioned. A Black child can’t learn about our founding without learning about 3/5s. A Black child can’t learn about American agriculture and cotton wealth without learning about slavery. A Black child can’t learn about education without learning about what Ruby Bridges endured. A Black child can’t learn about the Civil Rights Movement without learning about Jim Crow. A Black child can’t grow up in America without learning about racism. The talk lasts a lifetime.

White supremacy makes American history terrorizing.

As a white Christian woman who studies the history and literature of the African diaspora, I understand white supremacy. I see how it is enmeshed in Christianity, and I see how it served white Christians then and now. Because we historically set norms of behavior, if American Christians had wholeheartedly rejected racism, white supremacy would never have been a thing in America. Instead of following the Gospel model of privileging the outcast, of welcoming those on the margins, of confronting power that excludes others, many white Christians continue to preserve the status quo, questioning the faith of any person who dares to notice the racialized hierarchy in our churches and communities. Rather than naming the evil that segregates us, extending welcome to those who suffer, much of American Christianity seems content to ignore our role and to blame those who suffer for the suffering they endure.

White supremacy gives easy reasons for Black suffering.  

Christianity is incompatible with White supremacy. Christianity is also incompatible with defensiveness. Christians should lead the way in confronting and rejecting white supremacy. We should be eager to name it, grateful to renounce it, and humbled to confess the power it has on so many of us. Trusting systems might keep us comfortable, but such trust requires us to ignore the experiences of those who remind us injustice is baked in to our status quo.

White supremacy continues when white Christians ignore and protect it.

If Christians would confess the power of white supremacy, repenting of the damage it does to others, then six year olds would not ask their parents if they should prepare to be hurt because of their skin color. This week has brought tension to the public sphere and pain in private ones. The trial recounting the death of George Floyd, the killing of Daunte Wright and the murder of Adam Toledo wreaked havoc on many Black minds.

 It is time for all Christians to recognize their pain and to do the work to end white supremacy.

Pretending it isn’t real is evil.

Acting like it is not our problem blasphemes the life of Christ.

White supremacy is our problem, and it is terrorizing our kids and neighbors.

Below is a prayer of lament I prayed in church this week. I hope it invites us into the work God has given us to do.

This morning we come to you as your church, Asian, Latin, African, European, and Indigenous Americans. We bring our many voices and cry out with one voice: Lord, we are broken and weary. When we think of the grief pouring out of Atlanta, Minnesota, Indianapolis and all across our land, we feel our own grief rise, and we can barely lift our eyes to ask you for help. George Floyd, Daunte Wright, Adam Toledo. We are tired Lord. We feel abandoned when those we hoped were friends either ignore the trauma overwhelming us or, worse, question our experience. You are no stranger to betrayal. We feel afraid, as we look to our younger friends and know we cannot protect them from the evil white supremacy and violence gripping our country. You are no stranger to fear. We feel angry when we hear the blame, excuses or nothing at all coming from the mouths of brothers and sisters who claim to know and love you. You are no stranger to anger. We feel weary, distracted by grief, paralyzed by fear, stuck in the despair that wonders when it will stop. How long? Hear our lament as worship, Lord.

We have been oppressed and doubted, our dignity has been denied. We have also been oppressors and doubters, using our power to deny the dignity of beautiful image bearers you call “Mine.” We have allowed our bias to hurt those who need protection. We have blasphemed your name by refusing to act as your Church, as a refuge for those who suffer. We have called order peace, instead of making peace—even peace that disrupts. We have worshiped our own comfort, rejecting your way, which requires sacrifice. We have allowed systems that hurt Brown bodies to remain, checking out when it feels too hard or takes too long.

But you God, are patient. You forgive us and invite us into a new way. You do what you say you’ll do. You cannot and will not abandon your children. You sacrificed your comfort to be our Comforter. You disrupted your life to be our stability. You walked out of your way to make a way for us. You called out the powerful to lift up the lowly. You are the God who sees us when no one else does. We praise you that we belong to you. You see us struggling to get out of bed, and yet here we are because of you. You know when we cannot have one more hard conversation at work, and yet because of you some of us felt hope at work this week. You strengthen us before we even ask, because your new mercy comes each moment of the day. You lift our head when we cannot lift our eyes, and you remind us of the generations before us who have believed what their eyes did not see.

We put our collective hope in you, Lord. We will surely perish without your love. We praise you that we do not suffer alone. We praise you that Koinonia is no stranger to suffering, so we will open our arms all the wider to comfort those who mourn. Expand our capacity to stand with those who hurt, Lord. Show us how to bind up broken hearts. Give us a holy imagination for what our Beloved Community can be. Show us how to believe what we cannot see. Help us imagine your justice and mercy invading our broken systems. Pour your compassion through us, so that we become a church that embodies solidarity with those you love. Remind us that your justice will not wait forever, and we can trust you to redeem all things to you. Thank you for taking our burdens as your own, and give us your strength to do the same.

lent readings, week 6

To hear Brandi read this week’s essay, click here: https://youtu.be/XOcShIQlAeM

Spring has sprung. There are new buds on every tree, warmer air and more light as our days wind down. When the natural world comes alive, it beckons us to join in the fun. It is refreshing, isn’t it?

Confession: I find it disorienting. I’m vaccinated, my kids are in school again for the first time in over a year, and the beauty of new life thrives nearly everywhere I look. I should feel hopeful, eager for new beginnings. Nevertheless, I mostly feel like a miscast extra in a movie about beaches and flowers and fun. I am the Eeyore in the Hundred Acre Wood. That’s not exactly right. I don’t feel only sad or gloomy. I just don’t feel like Spring has sprung inside of me. Resurrection might take a while.

 I witness the glory of our earth rebirthing itself in relentlessly miraculous, effortless ways. But I don’t resonate. I see it. I want to feel it. But I’m not quite there. I acknowledge my own disconnect in hopes that it gives you a place to land if you feel the same way. How do the blossoms and the 50 shades of green land on you?

For the follower of Christ, Easter celebrates resurrection, and it is easy to think suffering that ends in victory is the whole story. From my vantage point, Easter reminds me of a lot of other truths too, not the least of which is the importance of Embodied Solidarity. Theologically, this term connotes the incarnational work of Christ. Simply put, the God of the Bible was ultimately unwilling to “stay out of it.” Indeed, as Eugene Peterson writes, God “became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood,” so that we could see His “glory with our own eyes,” inviting us to trust God’s claim that He knows, loves, and will not abandon us. Jesus, the man, is God, incarnated. This is good news.

It is also costly news. Embodied Solidarity is not just a gift to us, it is an invitation for us. We weep with those who weep. We comfort those who mourn. We speak up for those abused. We sacrifice our own comfort for the restitution of others. We lament injustice and know it robs our neighbors of joy. I think this is why Spring is not springing easy. I am gutted for our Asian American friends. They have been maligned, mocked, blamed and now killed by folks who think they honor God. I embody solidarity with these friends, and joy is hard to find right now.

When you love hurting people, the hurt tends to rub off on you. I hurt for kids who feel confused about their identities or belonging as they begin to re-enter friendships. I hurt for women who have lost or left their jobs in order to keep their kids alive at home. I hurt for Black brothers and sisters who believed things were different this summer, and now feel betrayed by folks who would rather rant about Critical Race Theory than honor the experience of a fellow human. I hurt for the families of front line workers and victims of COVID-19, whose trauma is lasting. I still feel the dying that came with so much hate, so many lies, so much blame in the last few years. Embodied solidarity knits us together so that I can’t be ok if you aren’t ok.

And yet, joy abounds. Lifting my eyes to the beauty around me helps, even if it hurts a little too. The earth offers evidence that our lives are not linear. The God who made trees die a little so they could be reborn a lot also made you and me. We are cycling through, finding hope and despair simultaneously, finding healing and new hurt at the same time. Feeling joy even when we know pain all too well.

If Spring’s outrageous new life makes you wince, just take a breath. New growth out there means new growth can happen in here too. There is room in you to accept what has been and to hope for what might come. As we approach the death and resurrection of Christ, consider how embodied solidarity shows up in you. It is profoundly encouraging to know you are gathered and held and reborn by a God who wants to be with you. This encouragement also invites us to go and do likewise. If you practice embodied solidarity with those who hurt in your community, be gentle with yourself. Spring brings good news, but it might feel a bit jarring to remind yourself to look up and behold the miracle of new life before you.

PS Art helps too. This poem offers us permission to wince and rejoice as we cycle through each part of our lives.

 “Don’t Hesitate”

by Mary Oliver

“If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.”

To Ponder:

“The future orientation of Christian time reminds us that we are people on the way. It allows us to live in the present as an alternative people, patiently waiting for what is to come, but never giving up on our telos. We are never quite comfortable. We seek justice, practice mercy, and herald the kingdom to come.”                 -Tish Harrison Warren

“We spend too much time trying to fix the things we don’t like rather than simply reconciling everything to God….But I’ve come to understand that true justice is wrapped up in love…God’s love and justice come together in the redemptive work of Jesus Christ, and we can’t be about one and not the other. They’re inextricably connected.”                                               -John Perkins

To Read:

Mar 24 Ps 9:7-14; 17:6-11

Mar 25 Ps 3:1-5; 21:3

Mar 26 Micah 7:18-20

Mar 27 Ps 28:1-2; 40:1-11

Mar 28 Luke 6:20-31

Mar 29 Ps 102:1-4

Mar 30 Isaiah 54:1-8

expand your reading: Black voices and the power to educate

This essay is partially revised from an earlier draft, and it concludes with a list of incredible books penned by writers and poets and musicians of color. You are welcome to skip my words and go directly there! To hear me read the essay (but NOT the list), click here: https://youtu.be/5_0-UTDacPc

I am the victim of an incomplete education.  Most of us are.  I attended elite schools and am grateful for the many ways I was invited into excellence, rigor and curiosity; however, like most Americans, I was exposed primarily to curricula written, sourced and designed by white Americans.  The last two decades have revealed large gaps in my knowledge and the work I must do to find a complete education.  Having now encountered the incredible diversity of thought that functionally shaped America, I realize the insularity—the poverty even—of our educational norms.  Aware of this, and because Black History Month seems like a good time to advocate for robust education, I want to remind us that American writing, thinking and creating is the product of many distinct voices.  We have an incredible wealth of cultural, literary, historical and artistic legacies from every race, and we are diminished as a people when these voices are not actively taught in our schools. 

Our educational norms, sourcing and standards create and sustain a culture built upon racialized hierarchies that diminish the contributions of people of color, making space only for white creativity or analysis. Any school or system unwilling to grapple with the legacy of this bias is likely promoting white supremacy. You don’t have to do it on purpose; it is baked in already.

When we are primarily exposed to American history and literature through the work of white folks, we are taught to privilege white perspectives.  We begin to believe important cultural trends and innovations come exclusively from one segment of society.  This narrow exposure lays a foundation for cultural racism, suggesting that people of color are physical in nature, while white people, with their higher order thinking and artistic expressions, meaningfully impact our national narratives, our literary heritage, our community ethics, and the production of culture. 

American culture and history have been shaped by the voices, inventions and perspectives of a rich variety of people from all walks of life.  The idea of complete democracy suggests that every person has value and should contribute to our whole in necessary ways.  It is disingenuous for us to believe this while also pretending as if every important contribution to the common good came from one race of people.  Although this hypocrisy that affirms equality while codifying systems of inequality is one of our great national habits, America itself has nevertheless been deeply influenced by contributions from all types of people. 

In the South we love to think about our culture as one of genuine hospitality, gorgeous grounds, fine food and excellent music.  Because we have a legacy of erasing or diminishing the contributions of Black folks, our educations failed to teach us that so many Southern traditions only exist because people of color worked independently of or collaboratively with whites to create norms of hospitality in settings we cherish.  In many famed Southern kitchens, Black cooks created the recipes published by white chefs, now beloved as Southern heritage.  Even Jack Daniel’s Distillery now explains that Nearest Green, an enslaved man, taught Jack the wonder of whiskey making.  Best practices in agriculture, building, sewing and carpentry were perfected by Black ingenuity.  I offer these anecdotes to remind us that any American historical narrative that does not include the contributions of Black, indigenous or immigrant people is incomplete. 

 Most of us understand that our musical heritage is not complete without the contributions of jazz and the blues, the vast majority of which was created by African Americans.  Jazz and rock n roll were largely commoditized by whites but created by Black Americans; indeed, Elvis became famous by publishing songs first performed by Black folks.  What do we sacrifice if we examine our cultural understanding of ourselves, and make room for all those who contributed?  Our educational norms often fail to reflect our entire heritage, but we need not remain in ignorance. 

Some of our best early links between literature, sociology and ethnography were established by Black writers like Zora Neale Hurston.  A gifted writer of fiction in her own right, she travelled through Florida recording the stories of African Americans as they experienced the world.  Hurston helped prove that anthropology is incomplete without ethnography and auto-ethnography.  Many of us were taught to celebrate early writers who noticed such cultural differences through travel like Herman Melville or Mark Twain.  Black writers like James Weldon Johnson and Paule Marshall, far less read, continued and advanced this style of writing about the helpful collaborations and differences one discovers as they travel at home and abroad.  Acknowledging the pull of diaspora while claiming our full history speaks powerfully into our current discussions about identity and the ways that we explore national loyalties.  If such voices were celebrated in education, we would be better equipped to now face a world in which citizenship, migration and nationality seem to clash in violent ways. 

In school, many of us were exposed through literature to the tension women face as they struggle to position themselves as whole subjects with needs, wants and the agency to act on those needs and wants.  We read Emily Dickinson or Kate Chopin or Sylvia Plath, celebrating the singularity of their voices.  Many of us were not exposed to writers like Nella Larson, Maya Angelou or Gloria Anzaldúa, though, who wrote compellingly of the intersection of gender, race and culture in a woman’s desire for agency.  Larsen’s work is accessible, exploring the life choices of a disappointed upper class woman in a way that Chopin’s work can’t.  Activists like Sojourner Truth revealed the subtle ways that the voices of Black women were diminished, doubted and ignored.  She was a forerunner to feminism, asserting that gender and racial binaries are often used to silence women who do not conform to cultural norms. 

 So many voices shaped American identity, and we don’t have to privilege one voice at the expense of another.  Our cultural norms, heritage, conceptions of self, and identities are, in fact, shaped by the many brown, black and white voices of America.  Our educational norm is to celebrate and memorialize the white voices, rather than to openly teach a wide variety of perspectives, recognizing the myriad voices that shape American culture, literature and history.  We are not products of brown labor and white innovation; we are the culmination of many voices expressing their God-given giftedness to help us translate and understand experiences of life in America. The hope of this moment is that diminished voices of color have always existed, we only need to recognize the deficits we have and do the work to complete our education. 

Idealist that I am, I suppose I hope you will make a habit of searching for and then relishing the rich cultural traditions that our American educational system has often minimized or erased. Don’t be the victim of an incomplete education. I spent nearly 24 years getting educated, and I would have missed so much of the literature and history that now shape my vision of community, heighten my awareness of the breadth of human experience, and humble me at the stunning beauty of the resilient human soul, had I not finally, in Graduate School at the University of Miami, been exposed to brilliant voices of color. I fell in love with their words and stories, and I invite you to discover the beauty and insight that captured my imagination and respect. These voices have, in fact, shaped the places we call home, and it is time we recognize and delight in them. Enjoy!

Below is a list of books I recommend, with newer (last 4 years) books **. For a list of kids, tween or teen books, let me know!

#BlackHistoryMonth Reads!

Claire of the Sea Light by Edwidge Danticat

Haitian, now Miamian whose poetic prose crafts a story about the devastation of poverty, the trauma and hope of adoption, & the choices we make for the people we love. Gorgeous book!

*Deacon King Kong By James McBride

One of the best books I’ve read, McBride masterfully crafts a tale of the resisting and reviving power of Black churches in urban centers (set in New York city), and of the networks that sustain communities. These characters will move in and stay with you in wonderful ways.

Omeros by Derek Walcott

Saint Lucian Nobel Prize winning poet who offers a postcolonial, African, diasporic reworking of Homer in this epic poem. Caribbean poetry at its best!

*The Vanishing Half By Brit Bennett

A new take on an old genre, Bennett explores the way we construct our identities and experience belonging through the phenomenon of passing. For Bennett, understanding the ties we have to race and family is a process always in flux. It is fabulous.

Stamped from the Beginning

*How to be an Antiracist By Ibram X Kendi

Kendi explains the history of racialized thinking in the first, and helps Black and White folks explore how they were taught to think about race, identity, and value in the second. Under Kendi’s tutelage, you will begin to notice racialized thoughts or instincts, deconstruct them, and take away their power.

*Black Bottom Saints

*Soul Food Love (a Cookbook, written with her daughter, Caroline Randall Williams) By Alice Randall

These new books ooze with family strength, habits and drama, stories told with food or drinks to go with them. I am cooking my way through, and loved every Saint’s story (with a cocktail to match). Nashville is one of the stars in both books, so drink up!

A Gathering of Old Men By Ernest Gaines

Gaines grew up in Louisiana & writes better than anyone about the importance of community in our efforts to tell our own stories. For Gaines, confessing the way we participate in oppression brings healing.

*An American Marriage By Tayori Jones

A remarkable novel that tracks the devastation of incarceration on a family system, the conflicting legacies our families leave us, & the ambivalent journey we all must take to claim (or even understand) agency.

I, Tituba, Black Witch of Salem By Maryse Conde

Telling the backstory of a West Indian woman mentioned in the historical record & imagined first in Miller’s The Crucible, this novel troubles the history of the Americas from a postcolonial point of view.

Americanah

Feminist Manifesto By Chimananda Ngozi Adichie

A Nigerian writer who also lives in the US, Adichie offers stunning clarity into how we find our normal, & how we manage our national, class, gendered & political identities.

Passing By Nella Larsen

Written out of the Harlem Renaissance about the Harlem Renaissance, Larsen writes of friendship & loyalty, the temptation to perform our race, and the fluid nature of identity. A beautiful, heartbreaking book.

Feeding the Ghosts By Fred D’Aguiar

A Guyanese poet, novelist and playwright, D’Aguiar’s novel reveals the excruciating acts of resistance that empowered the victims of the middle passage. Haunting & empowering, it stays with you.

The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man By James Weldon Johnson

Johnson captures the rich creativity and cosmopolitanism of the Harlem Renaissance, all on a backdrop of racial ambiguity, power dynamics and cultural appropriation. Fantastic.

To Pimp a Butterfly By Kendrick Lamar

Pulitzer Prize Winning poet who deconstructs the American experience in stunning ways. Lamar elevates and explores the fluid nature of identity construction in the search for agency.

Between the World and Me

Black Panther By Ta-nehisi Coates

Wielding comic book power, long form cultural critique (the Atlantic) & the memoir as a force for contextualizing historical erasure, Toni Morrison calls him “required reading.” So, yeah.

Cane By Jean Toomer

Toomer’s only novel is remarkable for his fearlessness in content & form. He raises questions about the possibilities & realities of black lives in various parts of the country, showing the gap between the dream & the reality.

*The Nickel Boys

*The Underground Railroad By Colson Whitehead

Whitehead’s novel sears images of abuse and courageous sacrifice into our American collective consciousness, calling us back to a history we erased through his liberal imagination.

*I’m Still Here By Austin Channing Brown

A prophetic witness to the indignities of carrying one’s blackness into nearly all-white spaces, Brown narrates her life, revealing deep wells of resistance & calling everyone to sit at a new table.

*The Hate U Give By Angie Thomas

Thomas burst onto the literary scene, shaping the shared experience of a generation of young people seeking to reach across lines of difference as they understand what it means to grow up knowing BlackLivesMatter.

Blake, or the Huts of America By Martin Delaney

Written across the African diaspora in the Americas, Delaney articulates a vision for resisting racialized oppression through black nationalism. Politically intuitive, he shapes a generation.

Mama Day  

The Women Of Brewster Place By Gloria Naylor

Naylor describes and celebrates black women, celebrating the places they belong, the homes they create and the power they display. Beautiful texts.

My Brother

See, Now, Then

Autobiography of my Mother By Jamaica Kincaid

Antiguan born, Kincaid writes better than anyone on the ongoing erasure of African diasporic peoples, of the complicated mobilities/voices left in colonialism’s wake.

*Red at the Bone, By Jaqueline Woodson

Showing off her agility to write for kids and their parents, Woodson explores how family legacies empower and suffocate the young people growing into adults around us.

Invisible Man By Ralph Ellison

Ellison’s iconic text makes room in the American canon for the voices and bodies of those whose presence shape & form a nation who refuses to acknowledge their existence. DuBois’ musings come to life here.

*Sing, Unburied, Sing

Salvage the Bones By Jesmyn Ward

Ward crafts tales about generations and the places that shaped them, about families who survive at great cost, about systems that destroy us. She reminds me of Faulkner...

Paradise

The Bluest Eye

Beloved

Sula By Toni Morrison

Too many to list & too necessary to describe, Morrison writes so compellingly that literature in America had to readjust, not just to make room, but to place her stories in the center.

*The Awkward Thoughts Of W Kamau Bell By Kamau Bell

Hilarious and pitch perfect, Bell describes what it means to create art as a defiant act of communal meaning making in an age of independent arrogance. You will laugh and cry, and wonder.

Why are all the black kids sitting together in the cafeteria? By Beverly D Tatum

She gave sociological roots to a necessary reality: in the best hope for integration we all have to find a way to belong. The *updated introduction is CRUCIAL.

Notes of a Native Son and Go Tell it on the Mountain By James Baldwin

Baldwin epitomized the beauty of Black cosmopolitanism, as black cultural appreciation rose in America, the West Indies, and France among others. Gorgeous writing.

*Ordinary Light and Life on Mars By Tracy K Smith

Former National Poet Laureate, Smith is an artist, a mom, a poet, a philosopher, a prophet, and a pro. Her voice is shaping our time, in real time.

On Beauty By Zadie Smith

Everything she writes is worth reading. Her way with words is so gorgeous that one could be forgiven for overlooking the astounding insights about humanity she layers into each page. She is the best writer going...

Selected Poems By Langston Hughes

His way of capturing the angst, the pride, the grief, the beauty, the longing, the being...of black folks in America...simply can't be matched. He's better than you remember.

Homegoing By Yaa Gyasi

Capturing the migratory paths of a family, Gyasi layers intra-African journeys on top of the Middle Passage, then explores diasporic wanderings across America as figures discover & create meaningful contexts for life.

Amanda Gorman’s forthcoming books! Read and relish (and Youtube her!)

Newish Christian Picks

The Color of Compromise & How to Fight Racism By Jemar Tisby

Reading While Black By Esau McCaulley

Bonus Picks (because February is too short!)!

The Color Purple By Alice Walker

The Dragon Can't Dance By Earl Lovelace

Black Skin, White Masks By Frantz Fanon

Brown Girl, Brownstones and Praisesong for the Widow By Paule Marshall

The Piano Lesson By August Wilson