Claiming Family
While some readers may take great pains to dissect Rowell's descriptions of her biological mother--and various foster mothers and mentors--I will avoid the unnecessary recounting of every detail of these remarkable women. Needless to say, the venerable and undaunted Black farm owner Agatha Armstead---Rowell's long term foster mother---receives considerable and much deserved attention in this book. Yet there may be some readers who may have difficulty understanding the author's obvious need to elevate and illuminate her biological schizophrenic White mother, Dorothy Rowell. The irony is that the author¿s real and literary attempt at exposing, explaining, and claiming her biological mother is remarkably African-American only a handful of us Black folks can claim any kind of racial purity due to our slave past--a past shaped as much by sexual exploitation and the occasional violation of social and legal codes proscribing interracial relations, as by the exploitation of labor. Both old and new Black American literature, like Black American life, is filled to the brim with accounts of unknown and unnamed ancestors, many of whom did not arrive from Africa most of whom were not anxious to claim their darker relatives. This memoir is a 20th and 21st century story as old as Black America itself. For persons who are visibly and culturally Black, yet who have a White parent, shaping an identity can be visceral and defiantly individual. Yet our long dead Black ancestors did exactly what Rowell does in this book--they claimed what they knew, and embraced the people they needed to embrace to give themselves a sense of history, belonging, and community. Without a full family history, the author can only tell us what she knows about her biological family tree and like the ancestors of old, it is a fragmented and painful account. Like many an orphaned slave child, the foster child in this book claimed family wherever she found it. Her search for family and a sense of belonging ripples through this book and is set to life through her crisp and conversational prose. The women who raised her are family by their actions and by Rowell's claiming them as such. Readers looking for an autobiography of titillating personal details will not find it here. Rowell delves deep enough into her childhood and young adult experiences. Yet she essentially keeps her focus on the array of women who have mothered and mentored her. That is, of course, the power of this text. All of her mothers/mentors come across as ordinary women called to the extraordinary and often painful task of foster parenting a child that they may be unable to keep. The beauty of the text is the realization that all of these women are women any one of us might meet anywhere. Rowell has long been an advocate and voice for children in foster care. She has tirelessly encouraged ordinary folks to become foster parents and mentors. She adds to that stellar legacy with this book. Her literary accomplishment, however, is that she pulls this off without excessive melodrama or moralizing. All at once you weep, and all at once you celebrate. You empathize, but do so without pity. I highly recommend this work and look forward to the next.
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