This past Wednesday marked the anniversary of the death of poet and feminist Adrienne Rich. As we close out Women’s History Month and begin National Poetry Month this Monday, it seems fitting to remember wise words from one of the most prominent voices in ...
Remembering Adrienne Rich: “Poetry was a feminist practice”
Not Oprah’s Book Club: Searching For Zion
The first time I learned I was American was my first trip abroad to America’s colonial ancestor, England, where I circled a plexiglass-protected 15th century Benin mask at the British Museum. An older white Englishman engaged me in a conversation and when he called me American, it made my ears ring. For the remainder of my trip I observed, Londoners knew immediately by my walk, my posture, my voice (I didn’t talk loudly for fear that I’d get lumped the obnoxious Americans) that I was American. I can’t tell you how shocking that experience was. Even in America I never thought of myself as American. Immediately, I found myself searching for an exceptions, to footnote my American-ness. ...
The first time I learned I was American was my first trip abroad to America’s colonial ancestor, England, where I circled a plexiglass-protected 15th century Benin mask at the British Museum. An older white ...