From the Publisher
"Sister Souljah is one of the most eloquent and articulate spokespersons of her generation. Listen to her courageous and painful words in this book."Cornel West
"Sister Souljah is a legitimate young voice in black America, a solid thinker who is astute, justifiably angry, and boldly outspoken. In No Disrespect she sets the record straight on where she stands on life, love, spirituality, and race."Nathan McCall
Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
Those seeking tales of Souljah's rap career-or the controversy in which candidate Bill Clinton condemned her statements about the Los Angeles riots-must look elsewhere. This is a memoir of the author's surviving-the-ghetto life and her passionate relationships. ``What I am is natural and serious and as sensitive as an open nerve on an ice cube,'' declares Souljah at the outset, but her lightly edited vernacular tale-complete with large chunks of ``freely recreated'' dialogue-rarely has such style. Still, her story of childhood in the Bronx projects, where women on welfare accepted dissolute men as ``rentals,'' is chilling. Souljah's mom, admirably, encouraged her daughter's reading at an early age, and she grew-it's not too clear how-to gain a fervent sense of self and spirituality. Her portraits of people-including a Muslim boyfriend fighting his homosexuality, a female classmate at Rutgers University casually manipulating men for money and a dream boyfriend who lies about having a wife-should strike a chord with peers. Though Souljah's continual comments on Afrocentrism and white oppression are unfortunately Manichean, her closing advice to parents and to peers about successful relationships (``Remember: men will lie'') is, in the main, wisely cautionary. Author tour. (Feb.)
In 1992, rapper Sister Souljah made big news, provoking a response from then-candidate Clinton to her exhortation that black people should "take a week and kill white people." Sister Souljah's social philosophy, apparently, has not changed much. In this rambling, lurid autobiography of her pre-rap star years, she works to attribute each shortcoming, mistake, or problem of every African American to one cause: white oppression. Her true attitude and the purpose of her tale are both unclear. Aggrandizing (at length) her "spiritual eye" and devotion to God, she simultaneously revels in the abuse of other humans. Claiming a transcendent, ascetic disdain for uncommitted sex, she blithely luxuriates in a series of affairs. While the brief concluding chapter offers solid, sensible advice for young people, Sister Souljah's earlier boasts belie its convictions. For a clearer, better-stated account of ghetto youth's struggle, consider Nathan McCall's Makes Me Wanna Holler (LJ 2/1/94). Buy only when the star's fans request it. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 10/1/94.]-Bill Piekarski, Southwestern Coll. Lib., Chula Vista, Cal.