Reading Bone Black: Memories of Girlhood by Bell Hooks was exactly how I needed to start 2023. The memoir created a safe space for me to revisit many of my own adolescent experiences. The book is comprised of 61 short chapters reminiscent of the diary I kept as a girl. What I found most interesting and satisfying is Hooks does not mention her age in the chapters. It allowed me to read and experience the memories without trying to visualize her at any particular age. It was as if Hooks was saying there is no set time frame to when girlhood begins and ends. There is always a place within us, no matter how we age, that carries the memories of our childhood.
As I read through each chapter, I grew grateful for the stories Hooks decided to share. She speaks often about the relationships with the older adults in her life. Some she sees at church and some who live nearby. Specifically, she speaks of Miss Erma. “The woman who sits on the third pew” and “has been watching you from birth…she has seen you grow”. It reminds me of my own Miss Erma, a woman we affectionately called “Mother Conway”. They shared the same mannerisms: a tendency to holler in a spirit-filled outburst when the preacher’s message spoke to their hearts. Just as Miss Erma enjoyed hearing Hooks read scriptures from the Bible, Mother Conway enjoyed watching me play my violin at church. Similarly, we were loved dearly by those who had watched us grow.
Hooks goes on to speak about the value of aging and how “there is so much to celebrate about being old.” I found it interesting how as a child she developed a desire for old age. She explains how the elderly “are free to be different—unique—distinct from one another.” This revealed a deeper struggle: she did not feel free to be herself. However, she does describe feeling most free when writing and reciting poetry. Once again, I found myself in the pages. These moments of self-identification felt like whispers from Hooks: “I see you. I hear you. I am you.” It is most beautiful to open the pages of another’s work and know you are not alone.
This memoir also unveiled the intimate details of Hooks’ girlhood. Her experiences with self-pleasure produced a newfound sense of connection to her body. She perfectly explains the contrast between boys and girls regarding matters of sexuality. “A boy coming into awareness of his sexuality is on his way to manhood—it is an important moment.” Girls, however, have this unspoken duty to “tell their mother she does not need to worry about them. They are not sexual. They will not get pregnant.” As she unearths the shame associated with a young girl’s sexuality, she intertwines her own experiences masterfully. Hooks details how her sexual knowledge grew overtime from practicing self-pleasure to reading novels with sexual undertones. Unexpectedly, I found myself processing how information about sex and sexuality influenced me as a young girl—some of which I am still unpacking. Hooks had managed to, yet again, evoke emotions and perspectives that felt all too familiar.
Nearing the end, Hooks provides what felt to me like a full circle moment. She details the origin story of the title Bone Black; a color she discovers while exploring her love of painting.
“Bone black is a black carbonaceous substance obtained by calcifying bones in closed vessels. Burning bones, that’s what it makes me think about —flesh on fire, turning black, turning into ash.”
A common message Hooks receives from her mother is “black is a woman’s color”. Yet, she desired to wear it time and time again. But it is her art teacher, Mr. Harold, who would encourage her to “add color”. She does. In doing so she finds herself submerged in an alternate reality. She describes the experience as having “left the cave and went into the wilderness.”
As I continue reading, I come across another mirror on the page. Hooks’ writes
“I am not crazy, I tell them. I am disconsolate. I show them in the dictionary that it means dejected, deprived of consolation. Whatever it is, they are sick of it. They are waiting for it to go away. They do not understand that I am also waiting for it to go away.”
Whew. Those words transported back to my teen years and struggles with depression. I had never described it that way. But to finally see it summarized on the pages of this memoir was an exhale. Disconsolate. A feeling I had not fully understood as a teen but I now know very well. I am grateful for the ways in which this body of work helped me to see my younger self from a new perspective.
Bone Black felt like a love letter and a photo album. A safe space. I am grateful to have started the year reflecting on my own girlhood. I was able to find myself many times within these pages. I feel more empowered to appreciate every part of my life. I’ve learned to view it the same as Hooks does: “this is my home… where I am making a world for myself.”
Community, I would love to hear about the pleasant experiences from your childhood that you never want to forget. (Leave a Comment):