Scan barcode
axmed's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
hopeful
informative
reflective
fast-paced
5.0
i listened to the 1997 edition, which ends with Remembering Audre Lorde with obituary and other words of gratitude, celebration and more, from Barbara Smith, Evelyc C. White and others.
here is a fraction of the passages i highlighted.
I am 46 years living today and very pleased to be alive, very glad and very happy. Fear and pain and despair do not disappear. They only become slowly less and less important.
I was going to die, if not sooner then later, whether or not I had ever spoken myself. My silences had not protected me. Your silence will not protect you. But for every real word spoken, for every attempt I had ever made to speak those truths for which I am still seeking, I had made contact with other women while we examined the words to fit a world in which we all believed, bridging our differences. And it was the concern and caring of all those women which gave me strength and enabled me to scrutinize the essentials of my living.
It was very important for me, after my mastectomy, to develop and encourage my own internal sense of power. I needed to rally my energies in such a way as to image myself as a fighter resisting rather than as a passive victim suffering. At all times, it felt crucial to me that I make a conscious commitment to survival. It is physically important for me to be loving my life rather than to be mourning my breast. I believe it is this love of my life and my self, and the careful tending of that love which was done by women who love and support me, which has been largely responsible for my strong and healthy recovery from the effects of my mastectomy. But a clear distinction must be made between this affirmation of self and the superficial farce of “looking on the bright side of things.”
------
What I am taking from Audre Lorde’s death is an absolute commitment to fearlessness. I am working toward eradicating fear completely from my life. I think this is necessary because so much of Black women’s existence is shackled to fear. Fear of speaking, fear of laughing, fear of crying, fear of shattering silences, fear of being rejected, fear of being seen and, perhaps worst of all, fear of being loved.
If I am to be loved (the right way), then I need to let go of fear and allow those who might come toward me (and my work) really to see me and the complexity of my life as a Black lesbian.
Evelyc C. White
Here was a woman who was born and raised in Harlem, who incorporated African cultures in her life and art long before the term Afrocentric even existed, and who challenged racism wherever she found it, and who was still a “sister outsider” in relationship to the Black cultural and political establishment because she had the integrity to say out loud and in print that she loved women.
The author of ten books of poetry and four books of prose, Audre was never satisfied merely to build a brilliant career, because in tandem with her art she was equally committed to freedom. Audre understood that in order for her work as an African-American woman, a lesbian, a feminist to make any sense at all, she had to do something to alter the actual political context in which that writing would be read. This was the understanding that led her to cofound SISA: Sisterhood in Support of Sisters in South Africa and Kitchen Table: Women of Color Press. This was what motivated her, even when she was in Berlin this summer to get alternative cancer treatment, to write a letter to Helmut Kohl protesting racist violence against “immigrants” who happen to be people of color. She was the kind of artist, of which there are fewer and fewer, who took political responsibility for using her gifts to bring about revolutionary change.
Barbara Smith
here is a fraction of the passages i highlighted.
I am 46 years living today and very pleased to be alive, very glad and very happy. Fear and pain and despair do not disappear. They only become slowly less and less important.
I was going to die, if not sooner then later, whether or not I had ever spoken myself. My silences had not protected me. Your silence will not protect you. But for every real word spoken, for every attempt I had ever made to speak those truths for which I am still seeking, I had made contact with other women while we examined the words to fit a world in which we all believed, bridging our differences. And it was the concern and caring of all those women which gave me strength and enabled me to scrutinize the essentials of my living.
It was very important for me, after my mastectomy, to develop and encourage my own internal sense of power. I needed to rally my energies in such a way as to image myself as a fighter resisting rather than as a passive victim suffering. At all times, it felt crucial to me that I make a conscious commitment to survival. It is physically important for me to be loving my life rather than to be mourning my breast. I believe it is this love of my life and my self, and the careful tending of that love which was done by women who love and support me, which has been largely responsible for my strong and healthy recovery from the effects of my mastectomy. But a clear distinction must be made between this affirmation of self and the superficial farce of “looking on the bright side of things.”
------
What I am taking from Audre Lorde’s death is an absolute commitment to fearlessness. I am working toward eradicating fear completely from my life. I think this is necessary because so much of Black women’s existence is shackled to fear. Fear of speaking, fear of laughing, fear of crying, fear of shattering silences, fear of being rejected, fear of being seen and, perhaps worst of all, fear of being loved.
If I am to be loved (the right way), then I need to let go of fear and allow those who might come toward me (and my work) really to see me and the complexity of my life as a Black lesbian.
Evelyc C. White
Here was a woman who was born and raised in Harlem, who incorporated African cultures in her life and art long before the term Afrocentric even existed, and who challenged racism wherever she found it, and who was still a “sister outsider” in relationship to the Black cultural and political establishment because she had the integrity to say out loud and in print that she loved women.
The author of ten books of poetry and four books of prose, Audre was never satisfied merely to build a brilliant career, because in tandem with her art she was equally committed to freedom. Audre understood that in order for her work as an African-American woman, a lesbian, a feminist to make any sense at all, she had to do something to alter the actual political context in which that writing would be read. This was the understanding that led her to cofound SISA: Sisterhood in Support of Sisters in South Africa and Kitchen Table: Women of Color Press. This was what motivated her, even when she was in Berlin this summer to get alternative cancer treatment, to write a letter to Helmut Kohl protesting racist violence against “immigrants” who happen to be people of color. She was the kind of artist, of which there are fewer and fewer, who took political responsibility for using her gifts to bring about revolutionary change.
Barbara Smith
shellkyle's review
5.0
As a cancer survivor, this was the first book Ive read that made me feel truly spoken for.
annetjeberg's review
4.0
It is really a mix of memoir, essay and whatever else. I really enjoyed reading it, and I had some great thoughts while reading this. Doesn't read dated, it really stood the test of time.
kimuchi's review
5.0
As I listened to this in audiobook format, I realized I read it before, long long ago in my uni days. There was a kerfuffle at the uni. Because in the campus bookstore there was a poster (remember posters?!?!) of a woman who had had a double mastectomy. It was a stunning black and white photo of the woman, shirtless, who had a tattoo of a tree overtop of her scars. Students- some kind of prudish misguided morality police - wanted it taken down. I was reading this for a class at the time. Imagine the fight we put up. I don’t have to wonder how Audre would feel to know how reconstructive surgery is now the norm and patients have to fight not to get it. The only cosmetic surgery paid for by universal health care.
quinbuisch's review against another edition
5.0
i want to reread already. such a powerful read that really puts so much into perspective and links lorde’s journey and words into so much of the everyday. honestly a must read for anybody and everybody.
osmojam's review against another edition
5.0
Ça fait un moment que je voulais lire du Audre Lorde, et après avoir vu cet essai chroniqué dans une video de l'excellente chaîne booksbyleynes, je me suis dit pourquoi pas commencer par celui là, avec sa superbe couverture. The Cancer Journals est un recueil en trois parties dans lesquels Audre Lordre documente son expérience de femme noire, lesbienne, atteinte d'un cancer du sein. Elle part de son ressenti, documenté par des extraits du journal intime datant de la période entre son diagnostic jusqu'après sa masectomie . Puis elle élargit à la façon dont la sociéte invisibilise les femmes qui ont subi cette opération, bien souvent au détriment de leur santé physique et mentale. Il y a par exemple toute une réflexion autour du port vivement encouragé de prothèses mammaires, alors c'est la seule prothèse qui ne répond pas à un enjeu fonctionel, que cela empêche les femmes concernées de se reconnaitre entre elles pour accepter leur nouveau corps et se soutenir, et que, lorsqu'il s'agit d'implants sous-cutanés, cela peut même provoquer des rechutes. Un sujet extrêmement lourd et malgré tout, on ressort de cette lecture inspirée et reboostée.
dmoney82's review
adventurous
challenging
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
fast-paced
5.0
Fantastic