Tag Archives: women authors

Re-Membering Katrina, “When Chris Met Katrina”- a short story

The boat whistled its’ way through the waters and soon the screams of the women faded. The air was now filled with the constant yells of families sitting on roofs screaming for help.  They approached Memorial Medical Center and Chris decided to seek refuge there.  As he got closer, he could see through the lobby window hundreds of people camped inside.  Every seat was occupied and people were sprawled out on the floor with blankets.  Police were patrolling the doors.  Chris knocked but the policemen just stood and shook their heads in the negative.  Chris trudged through the water to the other side of the hospital and policemen were standing heavy guard at those doors too.  He knew besides the sore bones and loose teeth, he had no serious injury and they were not going to let him in.

Chris double tied his bag of food and treaded through the water on his tippy toes.  He began to reminisce on the summers growing up in New Orleans.  His father worked as a mechanic in a neighborhood shop and in the summer Chris would help out by washing the cars once he was done.  Afterwards, instead of joining his cousins down at the local swimming pool, he hung out with the neighborhood knuckle heads and smoked weed.  Or they convinced one of the older drunks to buy them liquor.  He was all of nine years old.  With the water slapping up against his chest and occasionally splashing in his face, he wished he had taken those swimming lessons instead.

A few blocks from the hospital, Chris found himself pacing in the water side by side with a dog.  The dog was a dark brown cocker spaniel probably looking for a dry place to rest his feet.  From atop, the dog seemed to be relaxed.  But he knew underneath he was probably  paddling his legs wild as the devil!  Chris remembered how easy it was to tread the dog paddle when he was younger so he picked his feet up to give it a try.  He quickly dipped in the thick, murky waters and emerged panicked.  He struggled to get his stance stable but soon regained his pace and continued down the street with the other stranded people.

A little ways down, Chris spotted the small boat and whistled to get their attention.  They acknowledged him by waving.  Other people began to whistle and try and make their way to the boat too so Chris picked up his pace.  The eyes of the dog swimming nearby were showing signs of exhaustion.  There was no telling how long the dog had been in the water.  The dog let out a bark, then went under the water.  Within seconds, his head reappeared and he began to bark in desperation.  Chris was mindful to stay as far away from the dog as possible to avoid being bitten.  The small boat reeved it’s engine as they waited for him.  The dog’s bark now became aggressive as he continued to swim towards Chris.  The men on the boat splashed water towards the dog to slow him down and distract  his concentration on swimming.

“Come on man!  Dat dog look mad or summin’!,” one of the men said.

Chris turned his head to witness the dog go under again.  He started to run on his tip toes because he knew he would get sprayed with the dirty water when the dog came back up.  He reached the boat and threw his bag of food aboard.  He could feel the water spray on the back of his neck as the dog shook its’ head.  The men reached down and pulled Chris on the boat.

“They wasn’t lettin’ nobody in down at the hospital huh?,” Gunner asked.

“Naw,” Chris simply replied.

The boat pulled away and the dog continued to swim behind it.  His eyes were bulging as he barked pleas of help.  There was nothing in sight for the dog to take refuge on.  The dog’s shiny, brown coat disappeared under the water a third time, not to emerge again.

a snippet from the short story book, Mississippi Window Cracks.

Purchase your copy today

Mississippi Window Crack

Alice Walker… the Scholar

I have seen Alice Walker speak twice here in Atlanta. Both times, the crowd was mostly women, predominately white women. My last observation of the energy from the admiration of her literary works came during the Q and A. I remember sitting there trying to construct a precise question on how she connects her creative process with her person as a black woman. What I realized specifically is that the majority of the questions from the black women were trying to get the same information as I was and that the white women were asking her about spirituality. I remember thinking how odd that seemed to me that both black and white women seemed uninterested in the documentary that was just viewed. We wanted more and yet, Alice Walker is for the most part a fiction writer.

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Fast forward to me now back in grad school and how often she is referenced in Africana Women’s Studies, Gender Studies and Women’s Studies. It all makes sense. My question on how she connects her creativity  and her womanhood is in all of her work. I know realize how intuitively and effortlessly this is done in her work. I’m not certain of this, but I don’t think as she sat and wrote prose, short stories or poems that she was thinking on how she could contribute to feminist critical theory or black feminist theory. Nor could she have known how her personal expansion of feminism into “womanism” would take on entire subjects. Or perhaps she did… after all she is also an essayists and speaker.

Continue reading Alice Walker… the Scholar

She Chronicles presents, “I Am” by Sandra Rivers-Gill

I Am

 

I know who I am. I am who I was created to be

Without being who you expect me to be

Who they assume I am

Who I thought I was

                                    I am strong

 

I have cried and lied and spied and tried

To be that super; that make do, that bag

That pick up the pieces

                                    I am woman

 

I can roar and I can soar

This may not be in your job description

But it is my prescription, because I have changed

Not short-changed

But rearranged myself

                                    I am free

 

To be who I was created to be

I am a unique piece to my own puzzle

Intricate, a benefit, not counterfeit

Fitting into grooves

I thought I’d never fill the vacancy

                                    I am determined

 

If I know who I am

I can respect you, because I respect myself

I can love you, because I love myself

I can respond to you and not react

I can share with you and not be envious

I can converse with you and be real

                                    I am a possibility

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S_Rivers-Gill_Headshot
A native of Toledo Ohio, Sandra Rivers-Gill is an award-winning poet,
writer, performer and playwright. Her literary work has appeared, or is forthcoming in Common Threads, Toledo Streets Newspaper, the Toledo
Museum of Art (Online), Flights Literary Magazine and The Kerf. Sandra
served as the 2016 Literary chairperson for the Prizm Creative Community
Art-Affair Exhibition, and has been a featured poet in Toledo and
Dayton, Ohio and continues to read and perform  her poetry. She
currently facilitates poetry workshops at Naomi Inc., a non-profit
treatment facility for women in recovery from alcohol and drug abuse and
is the editor of Dopeless Hope Fiends, a poetry chapbook featuring the
work of the women she serves. Sandra studied communication and received
a Bachelor’s degree from the University of Toledo.

She Chronicles presents “About a Girl” by Dawn Edwards

I’m sitting here wondering, pondering, contemplating, deliberating, anxiously waiting for the precise moment where it all becomes painstakingly clear to me.

But so far nothing; nothing that explains why the Universe has brought me to her- her to me- us together in this time and place…

Ahhh… alas, here we are, two old souls reunited, reconnected from some time past…

She knows me, and I know her, yet there’s so much to discover about one another…

What does her laugh sound like?

When she smiles, does it reach her eyes or remain at her lips?

What does her touch feel like?

Where do her stray thoughts lead her?

There is an attraction that transcends the physical- it’s spiritual. It feels good, it feels scary, it feels authentic, it feels… purposeful…

Almost as if it were meant… the Universe brings people together for a reason. To fulfill its own unique purpose, for whatever length of time…

I suppose time will reveal…

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Bio pic

Dawn Edwards wrote her first short story at the age of 8 and has cultivated a deeper love for the written word over the years. She is now a published author, her book is entitled, “Food 4 Thought” and currently has two book projects in the works. She’s a blogger and a political activist who wholly believes that she has the responsibility to use her words, in addition to her legal knowledge and political science background to uplift, motivate and address issues that affect her community. Dawn’s also a mother of 3 boys, and a trained dancer.

Locz4lyfe.com

renewed / not new – a Brown Girls Privilege

here is some of my privilege.

I believe they were thinking of me

wearing myrrh and adorned in silver

and that is not selfish

we share the same sun

– the kiss on our skin

we share a love of puzzles

– arrangements of letters

we turn into poems – plays – books – speeches

and laughs.

literary legends