Sister Days: 365 Inspired Moments in African-American Women's History

433 Pages·1999·1.96 MB·English

by  Janus Adams

B u s i n e s s C u l i n a r y A r c h i t e c t u r e
C o m p u t e r G e n e r a l I n t e r e s t
C h i l d r e n L i f e S c i e n c e s B i o g r a p h y
A c c o u n t i n g F i n a n c e M a t h e m a t i c s
H i s t o r y S e l f - I m p r o v e m e n t H e a l t h
E n g i n e e r i n g G r a p h i c D e s i g n
A p p l i e d S c i e n c e s P s y c h o l o g y
I n t e r i o r D e s i g n B i o l o g y C h e m i s t r y
e
WILEY
B O O K
WILEY
JOSSEY-BASS
PFEIFFER
J.K.LASSER
CAPSTONE
WILEY-LISS
WILEY-VCH
WILEY-INTERSCIENCE
Sister Days

Sister Days
365 Inspired Moments
in African American Women’s History
Janus Adams
John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
New York•Chichester•Weinheim•Brisbane•Singapore•Toronto
This book is printed on acid-free paper. ∞
Copyright © 2000 by Janus Adams. All rights reserved
Published by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
Published simultaneously in Canada
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Section 107 or 108
of the 1976 United States Copyright Act, without either the prior written per-
mission of the Publisher, or authorization through payment of the appropriate
per-copy fee to the Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Danvers,
MA 01923, [phone], fax [phone]. Requests to the Publisher for
permission should be addressed to the Permissions Department, John Wiley &
Sons, Inc., 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158-0012, [phone], fax
[phone], email: [email protected].
This publication is designed to provide accurate and authoritative information in
regard to the subject matter covered. It is sold with the understanding that the
publisher is not engaged in rendering professional services. If professional advice
or other expert assistance is required, the services of a competent professional
person should be sought.
ISBN 0-471-28361-4
Printed in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For my grandmothers and great-grandmothers beyond
For my daughters and theirs yet unborn

Acknowledgments
In the researching and writing of Freedom Days, I came upon a
quote by Septima Clark, known in Civil Rights movement lore as
“Mother Conscience.” A proverbial lightbulb suddenly flared
inside my head as I read her words condemning movement lead-
ers for minimizing the role of women. Bearing witness, said she:
“The work the women did during the time of civil rights is what
really carried the movement along. [It] would never have taken
off if some women hadn’t started to speak up.” What was true
then had forever been true; as half the world, women had been no
less than half the struggle, no less than half the story, and some-
times a lot more. And, as I read her words, as the lightbulb shone,
I knew what book I’d have to write as soon as I could—a celebra-
tion of how we, as women of African descent with ancient roots of
culture and courage, have fared the flames of racism, colonialism,
slavery, and segregation—and yet borne a collective self complete,
gentle, and strong.
I called my lawyer and friend, Joan G. Zooper, and tried the
idea on for size. After Glory Days and Freedom Days, what will you
call it, she said—Sister Days? We giggled with a tickle, and then
found ourselves silent. Sister Days, she came back, that’s the title,
yes, that’s what it should be. And, so it is—inspired by a mother,
reasoned by a sister-friend, forged by family and friends as
encouraging as they have been courageous in their time—my
mother, Muriel Tuitt; my daughters, Ayo and Dara Roach; and
“sisters” Cheryl Hill, Sharon Robinson, and Sonia Sanchez.
Thanks are due to a network of librarians and archivists in
Wilton, Westport, Stamford, and Greenwich, Connecticut; at the
Beinecke Archives at Yale University; at the Schomburg Collec-
tion of the New York Public Library; and at the Indiana and
Philadelphia Historical Societies. A thank-you, too, to A’Lelia
Bundles for sharing research on her great-great-grandmother,
Madam C. J. Walker.
Thanks to the team at John Wiley: Carole Hall, who brought
me to shore, my editor, Hana Lane, and production manager,
Diane Aronson.
To the Brothers who love the Sisters, thank you, too. And to
the Sisters who love life, thank you for the wind at my back.

Introduction
In the beginning, the story is told, this is how things came to be—
the who was who and what was what—between Man and Woman.
What the gods had given Man, the gods had given Woman.
What he could do, she could do. What he had in knowledge and
strength, she had too. Everything was even, for that was God’s
plan. Then one day the two got into a terrible row. Maybe it was
that snake in the grass thing again, when the gods called Man to
account and he blamed Woman for tempting him with her apple
pie. Maybe it was something like that. Whatever it was, it went on
so long that Man finally walked out, slammed the garden gate,
and headed up to Heaven to have a talk with God.
There’s got to be a way to put an end to all this commotion,
Man said to himself. And all the while he’s walking, he’s talking to
himself, he’s remembering the good times when he, Man, was in
charge of everything and Woman was just a rib. By the time he
got to Heaven he knew what he wanted. Man walked right up to
the gods’ counsel and stated his case. He said, God, I’ve got a
woman down ther-r-r-re, uh, uh, uh. He said, God grant me
strength to deal with that woman. And God did. God gave Man
more strength. He knew what was going on. He had given equally
to both, but there was something about that Woman that made all
that Creating and sun-rising and moon-making a whole lotta fun.
But, business was business. With his extra strength, Man could
also better tend the fields and the flock. So it was done. And Man
was ecstatic. He raced home to tell Woman that he was boss now;
with his strength he was king!
Well, as you can imagine, Woman was having none of that.
Night and day, she said, day and night I work my fingers to the
bone and he’s the one gets the strength? No, no, no, no, no. Time
for a talk. God wouldn’t do a thing like that. And, wasn’t her God
a woman? Out the garden gate she sped and up to Heaven she
went. Just like that. Before she knew it, she was there, for once
Woman made up her mind to do a thing, the thing got done. She
had heard that just before she got to Heaven, she could freshen up
a bit at the Pearly Gates, so she would stop off to do that—shake
the dust off her feet, you know, out of respect. There at the Gates
she spied a set of golden keys, exquisite in construct, stunning in
simplicity, ageless in design. But this was no time to admire the