t left me in tears, in a figurative ball on the floor, gasping for breath. And although my understanding of what it meant and means, to be Black in America will never be complete, I feel a lot closer to wrapping my mind around it, after seeing this.
There were some incredibly moving moments in the story, and other parts that made me painfully aware this work was written, back in the day, by two white dudes, who had to throw in some “well, black people are the ones who started slavery” and #NotAllWhitePeople references.
How much do you know about Black History or Black culture, my white friends? If you’re like me, not nearly as much as we should. And we certainly shouldn’t only care about it during Black History Month, but it’s as good a time as ever to step up our game. Retonia Brashier on Facebook posted…
At age thirteen, she was living on the streets, sleeping in card boxes and scavenging for food from trash cans. Sometime around then she made her first of four marriages; this one very short-lived.
At age 15, Josephine would join the St. Louis Chorus vaudeville show, and from there, her talent springboarded her to New York City.
“… given a choice between hearing my daughter say ‘I’m pregnant’ or ‘I used a condom,’ most mothers would get up in the middle of the night and buy them herself.”