These are photos of my Georgia-born and raised Grandma. She is my embodiment of strength and perseverance in a racist America. As the black/African-American descendant of enslaved Africans, sharing time and space with a black woman born in 1919 in these United States is a blessing I will forever hold to. Grandma was born to a family of sharecroppers, and migrated like many black folks to the north in pursuit of a better life. There in New York, she cleaned houses for white people. She and my father had so many stories to tell about being black in America - both in the north where white folks looked down on us, and in the south, where segregation and racism were the fabric of society.Grandma had a loving, generous heart. We always left her home with gifts, as well as gems of wisdom. She reveled in my accomplishments, and cautioned me to take my time getting married and to hold on to my independence as long as I could - a message that stood out to me. Having been married three times herself, she knew what she was talking about!  Well into her 70s and 80s, Grandma was a social butterfly, and walked her neighborhood in the Bronx with fearlessness She was never frail - if anything, "feisty" is a more fitting word for her, and I chuckled at the stories she told of how she protected herself from any one who dare threaten her. Grandma passed away at the age of 99 some years ago. I'm still on a quest to recover more photos of me and her, and I wish she were alive to meet my daughter, who is named after her. But for now, her photo will hang in my home proudly proclaiming her legacy.

– Cathleen

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