An overriding theme in my documentary work is family. I am specifically interested in the oratorical act of passing down family history; as a young girl I sat at the feet of my elders absorbing the stories of family members who had long passed, but whose actions led to my own existence. Recently I travelled, with the women of my maternal family, to Michigan for dinner with our eldest living matriarch, Gladys.
At 97 years old my aunt is able to call all the way back to her childhood in Columbus, Mississippi and share stories with us about growing up, going to school, and the lives of her parents and siblings. Born in 1919 my aunt Gladys was the child of sharecroppers who worked to send their seven children to school. What I found most remarkable is that my aunt looks back at a time we all find to be full of sacrifice and strife and pain with joy. “Those were some good ol’ days,” she laughs, “we had a lot of fun.” That’s not to erase the obvious difficulty of growing up at a time of racial segregation and extreme poverty, but it calls me back to a quote from Nikki Giovanni’s poem, Nikki Rosa, who spoke of her fears of a white biographer taking hold of her story:
It’s important that we tell our stories, especially the stories of our ancestors.
Stephanie! Beautiful, beautiful work! I just love that in less than 7 minutes you have documented this occasion of family women listening to your Aunt Gladys telling family stories, while preparing and eating a meal together. So heartwarming. I’m glad your Aunt Gladys is in good physical and mental health and can share some history. She reminds me of some of my beloved elders.
Thank you!
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I love that poem by Nikki Giovanni.
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My comment was not sufficient last night, as I couldn’t watch the film because of sleeping baby, but I love how you put this together, the cooking, the music, the storytelling. What a beautiful soul, your Aunt Gladys. Thanks for sharing.
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Thank you very much!
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