Portrait of the Author as a Woman with Adult Acne
Will my face betray me when it’s time to talk about my book in public?
Great Negroes Past and Present,I’ve already read this book,And I’m about to write one that will top it
Mama,The Baby-Sitter’s ClubBrown Girl, Brownstone’Sula
The Coldest Winter EverBlack Girl in Paris,
I have something to say. Listen to me. Look at me. The audience engages with our bodies. We tweet about this one’s hair, that one’s lipstick at a book reading or literary event. Women have to contend with unreasonable and gendered expectations: We’re supposed to be pretty and likable in person and on the page, while men have the luxury of worrying about neither.
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There are far more writers ringing up your groceries, writers pulling your daily espresso shot, writers in the laundries of hotels and security tagging jeans at the mall and filling your prescriptions and pouring your beer into a clean cold glass.
These worlds I dearly love, with science-fiction that supersedes the science in our reality, deserve Smart Drives and automatic doors and disabled heroes, too.