About a Prickly Little Black Girl
A reflection on a snippet of my early relationship with the variety within Blackness and girlhood in the rural South, respectability, and jealousy.
For two summers in my youth, I went to 4-H summer camp, a privilege afforded to me by my mother and our village of supportive friends and family. My summer camp memories are a hazy amalgam of mosquito bites, moldy life jackets, dance parties, chlorine-stained eyes, and the soft snores of my cabin-mates in the dark. One very clear memory is of a girl from my second and last year at summer camp…
Camp Meeting
Every August in North Carolina, when the stifling, wet heat of summer days give way to chilled nights, the songs of crickets and cicadas signify the last days of the growing season. For generations, families have spent these final weeks of summer at camp meeting, taking time to rest, commiserate, reflect, and show gratitude before the harvest begins…
