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#frances ellen watkins harper
shewhotellsstories · 1 year
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“I do not believe that giving the woman the ballot is immediately going to cure all the ills of life. I do not believe that white women are dew-drops just exhaled from the skies. I think that like men, they may be divided into three classes: the good, the bad, and the indifferent. The good would vote according to their convictions and principles; the bad, as dictated by prejudice or malice.”
-Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
“The vote, she implied, would weaponize racist white women just as it would grant political authority to antiracist women.”
Kyla Schuller, The Trouble with White Women
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relaybeacon · 1 year
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Poems by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper Published in 1895 | Video Summary
Side Note: Please note that Frances Ellen Watkins Harper wrote two books of Poems that have  “Poems” in the title. The other book is titled “Poems on Miscellaneous Subjects”. The first poem is The Syrophencian Woman.
If you would like to read the full book, you can find many versions in your library or online. This book is in the public domain. You can find it on many sites like Project Gutenberg and Google Play Books.
Disclaimer: This post is a summary of the book. The book is available in the public domain and may contain some historical inaccuracy. I summarize the book to the best of my ability or highlight excerpts of interesting facts.  If you would like to add information, advise a current article/book, and/or critically analyze the book, it is welcome. Thank you.   
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eileenleahy · 5 months
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really gonna need people to stop acting like intersectionality as a concept (if not a term) wasnt invented until the 1980s
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fatehbaz · 4 months
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Coral today is an icon of environmental crisis, its disappearance from the world’s oceans an emblem for the richness of forms and habitats either lost to us or at risk. Yet, as Michelle Currie Navakas shows in her eloquent book, Coral Lives: Literature, Labor, and the Making of America, our accounts today of coral as beauty, loss, and precarious future depend on an inherited language from the nineteenth century. [...] Navakas traces how coral became the material with which writers, poets, and artists debated community, labor, and polity in the United States.
The coral reef produced a compelling teleological vision of the nation: just as the minute coral “insect,” working invisibly under the waves, built immense structures that accumulated through efforts of countless others, living and dead, so the nation’s developing form depended on the countless workers whose individuality was almost impossible to detect. This identification of coral with human communities, Navakas shows, was not only revisited but also revised and challenged throughout the century. Coral had a global biography, a history as currency and ornament that linked it to the violence of slavery. It was also already a talisman - readymade for a modern symbol [...]. Not least, for nineteenth-century readers in the United States, it was also an artifact of knowledge and discovery, with coral fans and branches brought back from the Pacific and Indian Oceans to sit in American parlors and museums. [...]
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[W]ith material culture analysis, [...] [there are] three common early American coral artifacts, familiar objects that made coral as a substance much more familiar to the nineteenth century than today: red coral beads for jewelry, the coral teething toy, and the natural history specimen. This chapter is a visual tour de force, bringing together a fascinating range of representations of coral in nineteenth-century painting and sculptures.
With the material presence of coral firmly in place, Navakas returns us to its place in texts as metaphor for labor, with close readings of poetry and ephemeral literature up to the Civil War era. [...] [Navakas] includes an intriguing examination of the posthumous reputation of the eighteenth-century French naturalist Jean-André Peyssonnel who first claimed that coral should be classed as an animal (or “insect”), not plant. Navakas then [...] considers white reformers, both male and female, and Black authors and activists, including James McCune Smith and Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, and a singular Black charitable association in Cleveland, Ohio, at the end of the century, called the Coral Builders’ Society. [...]
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Most strikingly, her attention to layered knowledge allows her to examine the subversions of coral imagery that arose [...]. Obviously, the mid-nineteenth-century poems that lauded coral as a metaphor for laboring men who raised solid structures for a collective future also sought to naturalize a system that kept some kinds of labor and some kinds of people firmly pressed beneath the surface. Coral’s biography, she notes, was “inseparable from colonial violence at almost every turn” (p. 7). Yet coral was also part of the material history of the Black Atlantic: red coral beads were currency [...].
Thus, a children’s Christmas story, “The Story of a Coral Bracelet” (1861), written by a West Indian writer, Sophy Moody, described the coral trade in the structure of a slave narrative. [...] In addition, coral’s protean shapes and ambiguity - rock, plant, or animal? - gave Americans a model for the difficulty of defining essential qualities from surface appearance, a message that troubled biological essentialists but attracted abolitionists. Navakas thus repeatedly brings into view the racialized and gendered meanings of coral [...].
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Some readers from the blue humanities will want more attention, for example, to [...] different oceans [...]: Navakas’s gaze is clearly eastward to the Atlantic and Mediterranean and (to a degree) to the Caribbean. Many of her sources keep her to the northern and southeastern United States and its vision of America, even though much of the natural historical explorations, not to mention the missionary interest in coral islands, turns decidedly to the Pacific. [...] First, under my hat as a historian of science, I note [...] [that] [q]uestions about the structure of coral islands among naturalists for the rest of the century pitted supporters of Darwinian evolutionary theory against his opponents [...]. These disputes surely sustained the liveliness of coral - its teleology and its ambiguities - in popular American literature. [...]
My second desire, from the standpoint of Victorian studies, is for a more specific account of religious traditions and coral. While Navakas identifies many writers of coral poetry and fables, both British and American, as “evangelical,” she avoids detailed analysis of the theological context that would be relevant, such as the millennial fascination with chaos and reconstruction and the intense Anglo-American missionary interest in the Pacific. [...] [However] reasons for this move are quickly apparent. First, her focus on coral as an icon that enabled explicit discussion of labor and community means that she takes the more familiar arguments connecting natural history and Christianity in this period as a given. [...] Coral, she argues, is most significant as an object of/in translation, mediating across the Black Atlantic and between many particular cultures. These critical strategies are easy to understand and accept, and yet the word - the script, in her terms - that I kept waiting for her to take up was “monuments”: a favorite nineteenth-century description of coral.
Navakas does often refer to the awareness of coral “temporalities” - how coral served as metaphor for the bridges between past, present, and future. Yet the way that a coral reef was understood as a literal graveyard, in an age that made death practices and new forms of cemeteries so vital a part of social and civic bonds, seems to deserve a place in this study. These are a greedy reader’s questions, wanting more. As Navakas notes in a thoughtful coda, the method of the environmental humanities is to understand our present circumstances as framed by legacies from the past, legacies that are never smooth but point us to friction and complexity.
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All text above by: Katharine Anderson. "Review of Navakas, Michele Currie, Coral Lives: Literature, Labor, and the Making of America." H-Environment, H-Net Reviews. December 2023. Published at: [networks.h-net.org/group/reviews/20017692/anderson-navakas-coral-lives-literature-labor-and-making-america] [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]
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newvegasdyke · 1 year
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Though a tremor of the winter       Did shivering through them run; Yet they lifted up their foreheads       To greet the vernal sun.
And the sunbeams gave them welcome,       As did the morning air— And scattered o’er their simple robes       Rich tints of beauty rare.
Soon a host of lovely flowers       From vales and woodland burst; But in all that fair procession       The crocuses were first.
-The Crocuses, Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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revlyncox · 2 months
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Love, Liberation, and New Visions: Wisdom from bell hooks
Love is more of a practice than a sentiment. This sermon was offered to The Unitarian Society in East Brunswick on February 11, 2024.
Love is an important practice for Unitarian Universalists. Indeed, love is at the center of the way UU values are described in the proposed revision to Article II of the UUA bylaws. As Valentine’s Day approaches, and we are bombarded with images of romantic love that may or may not be healthy, this is a good time to re-orient ourselves to our deepest values; we remind ourselves about what love means in concrete terms. 
A few years ago, the world lost one of its great sages who wrote about love. The author, feminist, poet, professor, and social activist known to her readers as bell hooks died in December of 2021 at the age of 69. She used her great-grandmother’s name as a pen name. She would write it in all lower case, and said that was so readers would focus on (quote) the “substance of books, not who I am.”
As an author and an academic, bell hooks was successful and influential. She taught at various universities such as Stanford, Yale, and City College of New York before returning home to Kentucky to join the faculty of Berea College in 2004, where she was a Distinguished Professor in Residence in Appalachian Studies. 
With over 30 published books on topics ranging from racism to pedagogy to a culture of place, there is a lot we can learn from bell hooks, yet in honor of the upcoming holiday and our exploration of love in the proposed Article II, concentrating on her book All About Love: New Visions seems the logical place to begin. Written in 1999 and published in 2000, this was her first in a series about love that also included “Communion,” “The Will to Change,” and “Salvation.” While the book All About Love does address romantic love, hooks makes the specific point that romance isn’t the only or the most important kind of love, and that all love is better understood as a practice rather than a sentiment. 
In practicing a love ethic, hooks said that love is best understood as a verb. Inspired by M. Scott Peck and The Road Less Traveled, hooks advocated for clear, operational definitions of love. She wrote, “To truly love, we must learn to mix various ingredients–care, affection, recognition, respect, commitment, and trust, as well as honest and open communication” (From “Chapter One: Clarity: Give Love Words”). We might be surprised that, as a poet, hooks was less caught up in creating metaphors and images that described the inner experience of feeling affection than she was fierce in insisting that we can all learn how to love well. Yet, as a poet, she knew that words need to have meaning in the living world. 
Dr. Takiyah Nur Amin made the point in this week’s Braver/Wiser devotional newsletter that Unitarian Universalism is a lived faith. Our actions matter. She also talked about the theological importance of Black Unitarian Universalist history, because much of what our Black UU ancestors have to teach is written in their lives rather than in essays. She writes:
If you’re seeking sacred Black “text” in our tradition, you have to examine the way our Black ancestors lived. You have to seek out the Black folks who were in Unitarian and Universalist or UU congregations, and the work that they were doing in community—whether it was suffrage, or trying to educate Black children, or their working towards social action or civil access. Our “text” is embodied in the lives of people like Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Joseph Jordan, David Eaton, and countless others.
(Dr. Amin continues)
One of the things I love about this tradition is that our faith is covenantal and not confessional—meaning that to some degree, our tradition cares little about what you stand up and say you believe. The evidence of your Unitarian Universalism is embodied in the depth of your relationships: how do you live in relationship to self and other? (I don't just mean human other: to the plants, to the animals, to the stars…) The proof is in the pudding, for UUs. It’s not about what you have to say. How are you living?
I encourage you to read Dr. Amin’s whole reflection. How we live means how we show up for our values in the public square, and how we treat the people around us, and how we steward the resources with which we have been entrusted, and how we commit to growing as people. It’s all love. 
Here at TUS, one of the ways we practice love is by adhering to the right relations covenant. This document is on display in the hall, and I’ll read it to you:
Right Relations Covenant
As members and friends of this Unitarian Universalist congregation, we affirm that our community is founded on openness, trust, respect, and love. In our time together–in meetings and conversations and worship and work–we covenant with one another to freely explore our values and honor our diversity as a source of communal strength. Therefore, I will:
accept responsibility for my individual acts and interactions;
in all encounters, speak for myself, from my own experience;
allow others to speak for themselves;
listen with respect and resilience;
not criticize the views of others or attempt to pressure or coerce others;
not interrupt–except to indicate that I cannot hear;
participate within the time frames suggested by the facilitator;
communicate with kindness and clarity in service of justice and peace in our community
Love is one of the values named right in the first sentence of the Right Relations Covenant. Love is operationalized, it’s about the ways we behave, and the ways we demonstrate respect. One of the things I notice about this covenant is that it requires us to slow down. We allow others to speak for themselves; that takes time. We listen with respect and resilience; that takes time. Deep and healthy relationships require an investment of the gift of time. 
Love, in a community setting, asks us to communicate about our perspectives, needs and wants; and also asks us to recognize the perspectives, needs, and wants of others. With kindness and consideration, we understand that our own perspective does not equal a demand that all operations be geared toward making us comfortable at the expense of others’ ability to participate. Love calls us to show up in service to others, to express appreciation, to look carefully for the pieces that are missing that would help us create a place where all can, as bell hooks says, “live fully and well.” 
Love makes room for repair. One of the things that sets a covenant apart from a list of rules is that it stretches to accommodate our human-ness. People make mistakes. A covenant should be constructed to take this into account, and to invite people back into relationship as we acknowledge our mistakes and work toward making amends. In this morning’s story, bell hooks (in the voice of Girlpie) reminds us that “there is no all the time right. But all the time any hurt can be healed. All wrongs forgiven. And all the world made peace again.”
We come together in community from a variety of backgrounds, bringing all kinds of experiences and heavy emotions from other parts of our lives; of course we will sometimes make mistakes and have conflicts. Our brushes with misunderstanding, when we navigate them skillfully, can be the sandpaper that softens our sharp corners and helps us to smooth out the pathways for forward movement. 
This is sharply different from how many of us were raised. There are plenty of settings without room for forgiveness or repair. We might say that these are places without grace, though I know that can be a tricky word. There are families where perfection, or at least a convincing illusion of perfection, is expected at all times, and failure to produce that perfection results in isolation and rejection. There are cultural expectations on some of us to be right, and where being right is more important than being collaborative. 
Switching gears to a practice of love in which we can discuss our differences honestly is a profound paradigm shift for many people. It is disconcerting to be asked to acknowledge conflict or hurts if our experience is that these conversations lead only to punishment and rejection rather than to a deeper relationship that comes from mutual understanding. If our previous experience is that discomfort is a one-way ticket to exclusion, the discomfort necessary in hearing other perspectives, in admitting that we don’t know everything, in accepting responsibility–all of that discomfort is hard to tolerate if we have been taught that discomfort and danger are the same thing. The active, flexible, living practice of love is necessary to create the spaces where we can be bold, authentic, and caring. 
This brings me to another point raised in All About Love, which is that the authentic practice of love is congruent with liberation. The true practice of love cannot coexist with abuse or with systems of domination. In the contrast I made just now between the loving community and the settings where no mistakes are tolerated, one of the ingredients that gets in the way of love is fear. As hooks writes in Chapter Six:
“Fear is the primary force upholding structures of domination. It promotes the desire for separation, the desire not to be known. When we are taught that safety lies always with sameness, then difference, of any kind, will appear as a threat. When we choose to love we choose to move against fear–against alienation and separation. The choice to love is a choice to connect–to find ourselves in the other.”
As an antidote to fear, hooks calls us to choose to be known, to choose to be our whole selves and to embrace the practice of other people being their whole selves, different from us. This is what we need to cultivate hope and to overcome the nihilism of isolation, despair, and fear. She quotes Cornel West, who says:
“Nihilism is not overcome by arguments or analyses, it is tamed by love and care. Any disease of the soul must be conquered by a turning of one’s soul. This turning is done through one’s own affirmation of one’s worth–an affirmation fueled by the concern of others.” (Quoted in All About Love, Chapter Six)
Cornel West is also known for reminding us that “justice is what love looks like in public.” For both West and hooks, love is a practice in our personal relationships and in our societal structures. Listen to West here, talking about “affirmation of one’s worth.” This is Humanist language, ready to unleash the potential of the inherent worth and dignity of every person, which necessarily includes dismantling the structures that dehumanize. West and hooks agree that making that turn is fueled by active care and concern, by practices of nurture and affirmation and support. The project of caring for one another and the project of humanizing the spaces we inhabit and the project of cultivating justice and mercy in the public sphere are all the same project. They are all aspects of love. 
I want to back up a little bit and talk about liberation, because it’s not a framework that everyone is used to. Liberation is not single-issue based, and it is not about more powerful people making good things happen on behalf of less powerful people. Liberation is a vision for a different way of being. Putting this in love terms, bell hooks says, “A love ethic presupposes that everyone has the right to be free, to live fully and well.” 
Liberation requires an assumption of agency, particularly the agency of people who are most impacted by oppression. Black liberation theologians like James Cone and Latin American liberation theologians like Gustavo Gutiérrez are also illuminating here. In liberation theology movements, our deepest sources of hope and inspiration are not separate from the world, but are present with us in the struggle for liberation. Liberation means freedom from oppression, living into a world that practices the inherent worth and dignity of every person, moving toward economic justice and collective concern for collective well-being. 
Liberation is a vision in which all of us need all of us. Our thriving is connected. Liberation is not about benefactors or saviors, but about people acting together for the collective good, because none of us are truly self-sufficient. Put another way, liberation is about right relationship, at every scale of relationship. And so, full circle, liberation is about love. When we behave in our relationships in a way that brings about mutual care and shared thriving, that is the love in operational terms that bell hooks spoke of. 
Liberation is a vision, it is a practice we can create on a small scale, even as we acknowledge that the larger society is not yet free. According to bell hooks, systemic oppression, accepted in the larger culture, is a major obstacle to our practice of true love. In All About Love, she explores the obstacles of patriarchy; gender roles and expectations that prevent people from being honest with others and themselves; norms of systemic oppression that turn what could be mutually caring relationships into power struggles. In other writing, she explores how racism gets in the way of relationships and in the way of the feminist movement. Systems of oppression overlap and interlock. Every aspect of a worldview that diminishes the agency, dignity, and worth of some for the benefit of others gets in the way of the practice of love. And practicing love in defiance of those systems–being authentic and demonstrating care and cultivating courage in relationships–the practice of love helps dismantle oppression. 
We cannot practice a love ethic without letting go of racism, patriarchy, classism, wealth inequality, xenophobia, and other oppressions. “Awakening to love can happen only as we let go of our obsession with power and domination,” writes bell hooks. She goes on to say, “To bring a love ethic to every dimension of our lives, our society would need to embrace change.”
Embracing change is, of course, difficult. The pandemic has invited us into a period of profound change, and it’s hard. Our society has the opportunity to improve building requirements for clean air, to normalize masking, to increase access to paid sick leave and to quality health care. We know that no one person’s health is an isolated phenomenon; what happens to one of us affects all of us. Pretending that everything is back to normal is more tempting than making the societal changes we need to take care of each other. 
Out of love, we advocate as best we can in the public square, and we remain true to our capacity to change in the service of love in our own environments. As we as a congregation live into being a hybrid community–a place where people can remain connected even if their disabilities or their caregiving responsibilities make it hard to travel on Sundays–we are going to remember again that change is hard. Practicing welcome and inclusion is hard. Demonstrating our values in the way we do things, even if it’s not familiar or comfortable, is hard. Again, if you are used to comfort being the same as safety, it may not feel like love to do the things that are unfamiliar so that we can be inclusive and flexible. Love asks us to change so that all of us can live fully and well. 
Fear gets in the way of love, and practicing love gives us the courage to overcome fear. Choosing love means choosing authenticity, choosing the possibility of accountability and forgiveness, choosing collective wellbeing instead of power and domination, choosing mutual thriving instead of an ethic of control. Choosing love means choosing connection. It is not easy, and we are capable of doing hard things. Choosing love means we will not be doing hard things alone.
May it be so.
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sweatermuppet · 2 years
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have you read Dandelions by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
ive not
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thegoodpoetry · 2 years
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Songs for the People
#Listen to, and #read "Songs for the People" by Frances Ellen Watkins at #GoodPoetry. #poetry #poet #literature
by Ellen Watkins Harper Photograph of Frances Ellen Watkins Harper in 1893 as featured in the publication “Women of Distinction: Remarkable in Works and Invincible in Character by Lawson Andrew Scruggs (Raleigh) / State Library of North Carolina, Government & Heritage Library Listen to “Songs for the People” by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper / Read by Teyuna Darris (on YouTube) Let me make the…
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valkyries-things · 21 days
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FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER // ABOLITIONIST
“She was an American abolitionist, suffragist, poet, teacher, public speaker, and writer. Beginning in 1845, she was one of the first African-American women to be published in the United States. She was born free and began publishing at the age of 20. At 67, she published her widely praised novel Iola Leroy (1892), placing her among the first Black women to publish a novel. In 1857, she helped refugee slaves make their way along the Underground Railway and began to write anti-slavery literature as well as becoming a public speaker and political activist.”
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alrederedmixedmedia · 7 months
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Alredered Remembers poet, novelist, short story writer, and orator Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, on her birthday.
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mariacallous · 8 months
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Today, coral and the human-caused threats to coral reef ecosystems symbolize our ongoing planetary crisis. In the nineteenth century, coral represented something else; as a recurring motif in American literature and culture, it shaped popular ideas about human society and politics. In Coral Lives, Michele Currie Navakas tells the story of coral as an essential element of the marine ecosystem, a cherished personal ornament, a global commodity, and a powerful political metaphor. Drawing on a wide range of sources, including works by such writers as Sarah Josepha Hale, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, and George Washington Cable, Navakas shows how coral once helped Americans to recognize both the potential and the limits of interdependence—to imagine that their society could grow, like a coral reef, by sustaining rather than displacing others.
Navakas shows how coral became deeply entwined with the histories of slavery, wage labor, and women’s reproductive and domestic work. If coral seemed to some nineteenth-century American writers to be a metaphor for a truly just collective society, it also showed them, by analogy, that society can seem most robust precisely when it is in fact most unfree for the laborers sustaining it. Navakas’s trailblazing cultural history reveals that coral has long been conceptually indispensable to humans, and its loss is more than biological. Without it, we lose some of our most complex political imaginings, recognitions, reckonings, and longings.
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spoke9 · 1 year
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Frances Ellen Watkins Harper | Advice to the Girl
#blackpoets #blackhistorymonth
Nay, do not blush! I only heard You had a mind to marry; I thought I’d speak a friendly word, So just one moment tarry. Wed not a man whose merit lies In things of outward show, In raven hair or flashing eyes, That please your fancy so. But marry one who’s good and kind, And free from all pretence; Who, if without a gifted mine, At least has common sense. Cover Photo by Asiama Junior:…
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apple-pie-42 · 1 year
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Frances Ellen Watkins Harper (1825-1911) was a nature-poet. In Forest Leaves, she warned against romanticising nature, as it was a location for slavery. She defended Black women’s right to be free outdoors: 97 years before Rosa Parks, Harper resisted eviction from a railroad car.
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osarothomprince · 1 year
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Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
We are all bound up together in one great bundle of humanity, and society cannot trample on the weakest and feeblest of its members without receiving the curse in its own soul. Frances Harper, We Are All Bound Up Together, 1866 Frances Ellen Watkins Harper. Public Domain Frances Ellen Watkins Harper was a voice of […]Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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How Black poets inspired the direction that American poetics has taken for the past two centuries.
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Before Modernism examines how Black poetics, in antagonism with White poetics in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, produced the conditions for the invention of modern American poetry. Through inspired readings of the poetry of Phillis Wheatley Peters, George Moses Horton, Ann Plato, James Monroe Whitfield, and Frances Ellen Watkins Harper—as well as the poetry of neglected but once popular White poets William Cullen Bryant and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow—Virginia Jackson demonstrates how Black poets inspired the direction that American poetics has taken for the past two centuries.
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