We Are Every Woman!

By Charmaine Wade Perry

Charmaine Wade- Perry

Happy International Women’s Day to all the strong, powerful women who have struggled to make ends meet while being a single parent. Women who have been victimized, abused, neglected, lied about, sexually harassed and exploited and have still maintained their dignity. Go deep into your inner Nanny of the Maroons, Florence Nightingale, Winnie Mandela, Rosa Parks or Joan of Arc to keep the fire burning. I am you! You are me! We are every woman.

Honoring a Matriarch!

by  Marva McClean

Matriarch Dezrene Elizabeth

In honor of International Women’s Day, I salute my mother, Dezrene Elizabeth Wade for her creativity and indomitable will. She has taught me much about approaching life with a positive spirit, always affirming that there is no problem without a solution. Her passion and energetic approach to life have been passed on to me and my siblings and for that I am eternally grateful.

Mama G, I Crave Your Essence

Rosie Gordon Wallace

By Rosie Gordon Wallace

Mom, Maa, Moms, Mommy…..

I hear your voice

I see your smile

I feel your touch

I smell your presence.

Is that you?

Is it just your essence?

I crave your smile.

I crave your hugs.

I crave your food

I crave your prayers.

Is that you?

Is it just your essence?

Rosie with Marvalous 2012

I See Her Face in the Mirror!

by Yuki Tavera

Yuki

I salute my great aunt Onaney, my paternal grandfather’s sister. My aunt Ona added so much to my life when I was a little girl. I’d see her during summer vacations and she almost single handedly embodied what “summer camp” meant. She rode bikes, played softball, spoke various languages, was avant-garde and unapologetic. She was from the Old World mentality (Roman Catholic, of Spanish decent) but managed to evolve into an influential matriarch with very modern and progressive philosophies.
She was a university literature professor but enjoyed reading school-age classics aloud to me (in Spanish) so that I would remain fluent after I moved to the states. She taught me to play chess, write in cursive, sew a button, draw from nature and speak my mind.
I see her face often in the mirror whenever I prove someone wrong and overcome challenges. Her legacy and spirit are still very much alive within my cousins, my sister and I.

Mom You Are Asum
by Shain Johnson [ 5 years old at time of writing]

Mother!

by Dredstar

Mother,

My gift and my curse;

Completely ruined me from having a normal relationship

with any woman.

Stood me up when I could barely walk

Taught me to read when I could barely talk.

Showed me to want for things not bought,

Like fields of dreams and streams of thought.

Nanny of the Maroons

I am in her image, I am in her blood!

Ashanti Woman! Warrior Woman: Freedom Fighter- Nanny of the Maroons

by Marva McClean

Warrior Woman, Bush Woman,

Black Woman, free! Nanny of the Maroons.

Ashanti Woman, Warrior Woman,  Bush Woman, free!

She pulled freedom to her bosom and claimed it for me.

Fiercesome Woman of truth, courage, resilience, and guile.

I hear the ancestral whisperings of her cry:

Know yourself, study the earth, strengthen the mind.

Listen for the movement of the birds in the wind.

Watch for the animals roaming the fields.

Be mindful of the insects crawling the Earth.

Fight! Fight!

If not with the sword,

the strength of the mind!

The power of the pen, the power of the word!

The Work of My Mother’s Hands [ An excerpt]

by Marva McClean

As I journey through the summers of my memory

I recall how you created with cloth, needles, and thread

and today I create with paper, pencil, and memories.

I know now that your hopes and dreams

are woven into the seamless fabric of my life.

Your love, dreams, and experiences

have swirled and knitted us together

into the embroidered tapestry of our  life history.

I am the work of your hands.

Inspiration Travels in all Directions

….from Black Woman Writing

I share these words in honor of  my friend Ivy Armstrong, writer, cultural activist, and psychiatric nurse who is recovering from a major illness.

I write to shatter the silence about our place in history

To leave indelible hieroglyphics on corporate walls

To traverse borders and open spaces

Where the mind can flourish and the spirit soar.

Ivy, all dolled up for an Ole Time Christmas Program in 2011