Red Clay Suite Reflection/Response

After reading “Red Clay Suite” by Honoree Fanonne Jeffers I found my thoughts stuck on identity. Who am I? What histories do I know of my family of “my people.” In the theme of identity I also allowed my mind to wonder to my experiences, my traumas, the warm moments in life and the bitter cold ones too. “She isn’t mad at my grandmother, either, for sitting right in the living room, singing spirituals to cover up the noise.” (p.60) Thinking of the times a woman’s work was never done “to pretend for others” (p.63) Although I cannot claim to share this person’s experience I know my own truth to be one of pain, as so often the women in my life had to adhere to many pains, and pretend as if the salt in their wounds knew nothing of ache. At times I found warmth, like the sun on a clear day with no interference from the wind, those were the moments that kept my tears at bay as my many thoughts ravaged my insides and I pushed forward to the final pages.

I am very social and friendly, and I claim to love time for self but the truth is I cannot stand sitting alone with myself, even less when there is a mirror present. These poems forced me to look in the mirror, and instead of finding the monster under my bed I said “I don’t look half bad.” These poems are very personal and in reading them I had to reach deep within my guts to see my blood runs red like any other. In reading Lexicon (p.46) I obviously jumped to my mother, as it was written for the author’s mother. The line “how much weaker than a girl a woman can be.” needed to be read three or four times until I came to conclude that my strength as a child is what has gotten me to my present location. I love to accredit my mother as my life, as the person who is most important even over my own life.  How wrong is it for a child to want to perish before their parents? I found myself addressing this question in my head as I reread that line over and over.

These poems really sat next to me as I looked into my mirror, realizing I am my own person. Only now to place value on my feet’s own ability to hold my weight. My hand’s need to sort through bricks on my back, and my eyes vision to leave some of those bricks in the seat on the bus as I made my way to the exit. I now think of my life’s journey as a struggle to remember rays of sunshine as blizzards blow in attempt to harden my skin.

This reading has come in a time where I am working to better myself holistically, so I shall not accredit these revelations to reading this single book, but will acknowledge it reminded me of my own intentions for myself in the weeks, years to follow.