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Books by Miriam DeCosta-Willis
Daughters of the Diaspora: Afra-Hispanic Writers
(2003 /
Singular Like a Bird: The Art of Nancy Morejon
(1999)
The
Memphis Diary of Ida B. Wells (1995) /
Erotique Noire/Black Erotica
(1992) /
Homespun
Images
( 1989) /
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Through My Open Window
—for Fannie
By
Miriam DeCosta-Willis So often in the dark I look out over the
city—pinpoints of light against an ebony landscape,
ribbons of cars streaming across the 14th
Street Bridge, planes flying low over the Potomac—and I
remember
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the quiet
beauty of her days
the simple dignity of her ways |
It was noon on a Memphis-hot August
day, 1979, that I first saw her there on the second
floor of Brownlee, filing stacks of yellowed papers,
throwing out manila folders, and rearranging desks and
chairs. As she organized the artifacts of her life, she
imposed her own particular sense of order on the chaos
of campus life: a picture of a student here, a postcard
from a friend there, interminable lists of
“things-to-do,” school books set down neatly in piles.
She could have been an artist with
her sense of color and design, her feel for space and
texture, her gift for making a room her own
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a lived-in
space
warm with touch and look and word
a
hot cup of tea
a
few minutes of healing
a smile
bright with sunlight and desk
lamps and fluorescent bulbs
green with philodendron and
wandering Jew,
rooted-watered-fed |
6:35 a.m., August 21, 1985, “I just
called to let you know you’re on my mind. Bye,” she
said.
And again in February 1986. “Here’s
a little care package [two aspirins, a bandaid, an
herbal tea bag, a note] to get you through today.”
10:35 p.m., October 20, 1988.
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“Why do
you always call when I am crying?” I
asked.
“Have you ever wondered why we are
friends?” she replied. |
She sensed the shapes and
contours of things unspoken, the mysteries of
yesterday, the ragged unravelings of today, the
formless intuitions of tomorrow. She had this
feeling for things, this intuition about people that
was uncanny and sure. Open but guarded, warm but
reserved, she held back with dignity and strength
while the rest of us rushed out to embrace life with
a wild, frenetic passion. We just took for granted
that she would always be there, solid and unshakable
like a rock . . .
“But I’m so slow,” she often complained, unaware
that the predictable rhythm of her life, the steady
beat of her tempered hours, the inevitability of her
measured offerings were the balm that calmed and
soothed those of us who moved, always under
pressure, with a quicker step in a wider circle.
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writing, writing, always writing
words
fleshed out,
summoning up
the smooth
planes and rough edges of our lives
yesterday
memories: births and deaths and baptisms
dreams of what
we might become given the seamless
beauty
of Black lives
words on
big yellow pads—in that careful, precise
script of rounded o’s and open
e’s—
spilling
across pages into articles and books
sheets
of paper—“bits and pieces,” she called
them—spread out over dining room table
and
kitchen chairs, and then pulled together
in that correct, ordered style of hers
teaching and loving it |
“But why? Twelve hours and so
many students, classes after school, classes in the
evening, classes on Saturday, meetings with students
on Sunday?”
“Black students need us,” was the
simple explanation for everything: too much work,
too long hours, interminable summer months without
hiatus. “But I’m going to do better, I promise.
I’m going home early on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’m
going to start thinking about me.” She never did,
of course.
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a gentle woman . . .
unassuming
lovely
life-giving
. . . like Wordsworth’s violet
delicate,
blooming but a day, leaving a
sweet fragrance
on the air
her self
submerged
beneath the crystal waters of a lake
hidden below the
placid surface of a stream
* * *
the lucid prose
of her life pristine and clear
like puddles
of rain on a starlit night |
Note on Fannie Delk
Rudy, one of the projects that I
finally got around to during this trip is organizing
the rest of my papers to donate to the library
here. I have a stack of unfinished articles, notes,
and papers, among which is this piece that I wrote
on the death of my dear friend Fannie Delk. We were
colleagues, co-founders of the Memphis Black Writers
Workshop, and co-editors of Homespun
Images. Right after the book came out in January, she
started complaining about stomachaches and two
months later she underwent surgery for colon
cancer. I moved to D. C. in August, and two weeks
later she died. As you can imagine, finding this
piece brought back a lot of memories. I'm not a
poet but I wanted to express some of her beauty. I
never published this, but I'm submitting it to you,
in case you think it's okay, as a tribute to her.
* * * * *
Whenever I'm working on Memphis
projects, in this case two—the Etheridge
paper and "Notable Black Memphians"—I connect with
so many people who've been out of my life for
years. I just got through talking with an older
friend, who was in my workshop and also Etheridge's,
and I discovered that she's in a nursing home and
has an amputated leg. She was so moved to hear from
me. I've probably talked with 25 or 30 friends &
acquaintances since I've been here, and that's
evoked all kinds of mixed emotions and complicated
memories. I've driven through parts of town—once
elegant or neat with green grass and picket
fences—where the houses are now crumbling, boarded
up, and graffiti-covered. It's very sad. But it's
getting me in the mood and frame of mind to write
this blues-sad testimonial. —Miriam
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Notable Black Memphians (Miriam
DeCosta-Willis)—This
biographical and historical study by Miriam DeCosta-Willis (PhD,
Johns Hopkins University and the first African American faculty
member of Memphis State University) traces the evolution of a major
Southern city through the lives of men and women who overcame social
and economic barriers to create artistic works, found institutions,
and obtain leadership positions that enabled them to shape their
community. Documenting the accomplishments of Memphians who were
born between 1795 and 1972, it contains photographs and biographical
sketches of 223 individuals (as well as brief notes on 122 others),
such as musicians Isaac Hayes and Aretha Franklin, activists Ida B.
Wells and Benjamin L. Hooks, politicians Harold Ford Sr. and Jr.,
writers Sutton Griggs and Jerome Eric Dickey, and Bishop Charles
Mason and Archbishop James Lyke—all of whom were born in Memphis or
lived in the city for over a decade. . . . |
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The Memphis Diary of Ida B. Wells
Edited by
Miriam DeCosta-Willis
Foreword by
Mary Helen Washington. Afterword by Dorothy Sterling
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Blacks in Hispanic Literature: Critical Essays
Edited by
Miriam DeCosta-Willis
Blacks in Hispanic Literature is a
collection of fourteen essays by scholars and
creative writers from Africa and the Americas.
Called one of two significant critical works on
Afro-Hispanic literature to appear in the late
1970s, it includes the pioneering studies of
Carter G. Woodson and
Valaurez B. Spratlin, published in the 1930s, as
well as the essays of scholars whose interpretations
were shaped by the Black aesthetic. The early
essays, primarily of the Black-as-subject in Spanish
medieval and Golden Age literature, provide an
historical context for understanding 20th-century
creative works by African-descended, Hispanophone
writers, such as Cuban
Nicolás Guillén and Ecuadorean poet, novelist,
and scholar
Adalberto Ortiz, whose essay analyzes the
significance of Negritude in Latin America. This
collaborative text set the tone for later
conferences in which writers and scholars worked
together to promote, disseminate, and critique the
literature of Spanish-speaking people of African
descent. . . .
Cited by a
literary critic in 2004 as "the seminal study in the
field of Afro-Hispanic Literature . . . on which
most scholars in the field 'cut their teeth'."
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Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in
America
By Melissa V.
Harris-Perry
According to the
author, this society has historically exerted
considerable pressure on black females to fit into one
of a handful of stereotypes, primarily, the Mammy, the
Matriarch or the Jezebel. The selfless
Mammy’s behavior is marked by a slavish devotion to
white folks’ domestic concerns, often at the expense of
those of her own family’s needs. By contrast, the
relatively-hedonistic Jezebel is a sexually-insatiable
temptress. And the Matriarch is generally thought of as
an emasculating figure who denigrates black men, ala the
characters Sapphire and Aunt Esther on the television
shows Amos and Andy and Sanford and Son, respectively.
Professor Perry
points out how the propagation of these harmful myths
have served the mainstream culture well. For instance,
the Mammy suggests that it is almost second nature for
black females to feel a maternal instinct towards
Caucasian babies.
As for the source
of the Jezebel, black women had no control over their
own bodies during slavery given that they were being
auctioned off and bred to maximize profits. Nonetheless,
it was in the interest of plantation owners to propagate
the lie that sisters were sluts inclined to mate
indiscriminately.
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The White Masters of the
World
From
The World and Africa, 1965
By W. E. B. Du Bois
W. E. B. Du Bois’
Arraignment and Indictment of White Civilization
(Fletcher)
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Ancient African Nations
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Enjoy!
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The Death of Emmett Till by Bob Dylan
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The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll
/
Only a Pawn in Their Game
Rev. Jesse Lee Peterson Thanks America for
Slavery
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The Journal of Negro History issues at Project Gutenberg
The
Haitian Declaration of Independence 1804
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January 1, 1804 -- The Founding of
Haiti
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posted 22 March 2006
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