My grandmother was born in the early 1940’s in Selma, Alabama. She lived on a farm with her doting mother and father and with enough siblings for a small baseball team.
She married at 16 and moved to New Jersey, giving birth to my aunt and mother, who would then give birth to me. I’ve grown up listening to stories about my grandmother and her adventures on the farm and the miraculous things she’s done throughout her life — things that as a Black woman she had no business doing.
It wasn’t until I was older I started hearing the stories that weren’t as positive. I started learning about existing at the same time as Jim Crow, first hand.
Read more on themighty.com