hi, friends.
i know it’s been a little while. however, since we began our first in-person semester since March 2020 last month, my new sabbaths feel more like my old sabbaths. we are back in Chapel on Sundays. to my ecstatic surprise, we seem to be in the throes of a renaissance in Chapel, with record (safely distanced) attendance, a growing staff and vibrant student ministries. i’m genuinely trying to wrap my head around all of this change. while this is a lot of change, i welcome it. i’m embracing it.
several weeks ago, at the start of the first semester back to campus, i started teaching at Spelman. my course is entitled, Bigger: Black Women, Spiritual Lineage and Sacred Inheritance. for the past two and a half academic years, i’ve worked solely in the Chapel and the WISDOM Center. however, i was called into the classroom after a series of enlivening conversations with a faculty colleague over the summer.
this class is becoming a great source of joy my life. i teach first year students. they are the full embodiment of paradox. on one hand, they are grounded, strong and fully mindful of what it means to be enrolled at Spelman. on the other, they can be timid, cautious. in our class, we are intentionally reflecting on the women in our genetic, spiritual and intellectual lineages. the women whose lives we’ve watched, whose words we’ve read, and whose presence has shaped and impacted us, for better or for worse.
we have two texts that we engage weekly: In My Grandmother’s House: Black Women, Faith, and the Stories We Inherit by Dean Yolanda Pierce and My Soul is a Witness: African-American Women’s Spirituality, edited by Gloria Wade Gayles. in both texts, my students are bearing witness to spiritual memoir, sacred memory, and what it sounds like to narrate our inner lives. organically, the students are reaching back into their own memories, unearthing aspects they’d long forgotten and putting their stories into their own words. i often implore them to get into the practice of writing down the moments that make them feel most alive, and to making and collecting the artifacts of their personal odysseys. it is not uncommon for Black women’s stories, voices, and contributions to be erased from historic tales. therefore, “it is never too soon to begin writing your own story,” i tell them.
i knew that we were making magic in the third class session. as we were discussing the weekly readings and sharing some of their written reflections, one particular student opened up for the first time. after our first class meeting, she followed me to my office to share that due to a string of personal losses, she didn’t believe that she had a sacred inheritance to reflect upon. we spoke at length. during our third meeting, we were talking about the words (i.e. colloquialisms, sayings, advice, and otherwise musings) of our grandmothers. she spoke for the first time and shared, “i feel like our grandmothers must have known each other. i’ve heard all of this from my grandmother, too.” the class erupted in, “yass!,” “i know, right?!,” and “same!” she went on to say, “it just dawned on me that i’m at Spelman College. this feels surreal. i’ll never forget this moment.”
to keep myself from weeping, i just said, “welcome!” while i didn’t attend Spelman, i do remember some of my earliest moments of awakening to my place in a larger story and a longer line of Black women. Black clergywomen. Womanist theologians and practitioners. it did feel surreal to feel so inextricably tied to something bigger than myself. in fact, my pedagogical framework for this course was inspired by a course that i took with my divinity school advisor, Dr. Emilie Townes.
moments such as these are quite breathtaking. they are the origin of a deeper sense of belonging and identity. these moments serve as a baptism into a profound sense of responsibility to both challenge the lineage and to ensure its endurance. at once, we are the critics and the custodians of the traditions that we inherit. at once, our foremothers call us back, unto themselves, to anoint us with the next wave of inspiration and guidance that will enable us to move the story forward.
being a Black woman who cares about her people is a dynamic embodiment of Sankofa. always looking backward - and inward - and moving forward, at the same time.
Thank you for your thoughts and the class you are teaching. Telling your sacred story is why I wrote my memoir and it is written to encourage others to do the same. There is so much wisdom, love, challenge, hurt, understanding, and growth to be birth from our sacred stories. Memoirs, for me, and I state that plainly, is a valid source of research, especially as it relates to story-telling in the African American tradition. My book is titled: The Trauma of Sexual and Domestic Violence: Navigating My Way through Individuals, Religion, the Courts and policing. Family is an important part of this story at its foundation. I look forward to its release in 2022. Please keep doing what you do? I am so encouraged and enlightened by the work you do! Blessings sis!
Thank you for this reminder and capturing the complexity - that "moments such as these are quite breathtaking. they are the origin of a deeper sense of belonging and identity. these moments serve as a baptism into a profound sense of responsibility to both challenge the lineage and to ensure its endurance. at once, we are the critics and the custodians of the traditions that we inherit. at once, our foremothers call us back, unto themselves, to anoint us with the next wave of inspiration and guidance that will enable us to move the story forward." So grateful to have read your thoughts today! 🙏❤🙌