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I frequently find myself gritting my teeth, just trying to get through a period of time–the work day, a stage in my children’s development, an entire political regime.

Even the best efforts of a helicopter mom could not make our new reality normal.

A mother displaying such self-interest seems quintessentially cold and wiry.

Six yards of soft silk, plain and lustrous, like a ripe mango lit up with sunshine…

My longing for camaraderie gouged its way along my throat and sat heavy in my stomach like that burnt corner of toast.

” . . . my life as a Black woman, mother, artist, and traveler is varied and nuanced and rich.” Camille T. Dungy

I think the thing that serves any writer best, and has certainly served me, is to be honest. To have a point of view. Tell your story. Know your own voice and figure out how to get it on the page.

The lyrical prose of this poignant and profoundly introspective memoir shapes the stories of the author’s motherless past, grief, desires, creative influences, and the complex relationship she has with the label, “mother”.

Written with lyrical honesty, Yellow Tulips offers an unflinching look into one woman’s story of generational trauma, bipolar disorder, and a broken mental health care system.

In Raising a Rare Girl: A Memoir, Heather Lanier learns to let go of expectations and embraces what is, instead of what isn’t.

Maya Lang explores the intricacies of the mother-daughter relationship in her poignant memoir, What We Carry.