Study the Masters by Lucille Clifton
like my aunt timmie.
it was her iron,
or one like hers,
that smoothed the sheets
the master poet slept on.
home or hotel, what matters is
he lay himself down on her handiwork
and dreamed. she dreamed too, words;
some cherokee, some masai and some
huge and particular as hope.
if you had heard her
chanting as she ironed
you would understand form and line
and discipline and order and
america.
Greetings, Class.
In this course, we are exploring the ways gender and intersectional identity may have impacted the experiences of enslaved people. This poem by Lucille Clifton may help us to unpack some of the complexities associated with gender in slave communities.
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from http://clclt.com/charlotte/not-just-black-history-america-i-am/Content?oid=2774133 |
Yours truly,
Dr. Hill