**Narrative Portrait: Growing Up as a Black Girl in the Jim Crow South**

**Background Information:**
Feminist intellectual bell hooks was born in Kentucky in the 1950s, at the height of the Jim Crow system. Her family was rural and poor, but she rose from these humble beginnings to earn her doctorate in English. She teaches at Berea College, has written more than 35 books, and has devoted her life to a passionate critique of white supremacy, capitalism, and patriarchy. The name under which she writes is a pseudonym, and she does not capitalize it, to stress that her ideas are more important than her name or any other aspect of her identity.

**Passage: "Bone Black" by bell hooks**

We live in the country. We children do not understand that means we are among the poor. We do not understand that the outhouses behind many of the houses are still there because running water came here long after they had it in the city.

Because we are poor, because we live in the country, we go to the country school—the little white wood-frame building where all the country kids come. They come from miles and miles away. They come so far because they are black. As they are riding the school buses, they pass school after school where children who are white can attend without being bused, without getting up in the wee hours of the morning, sometimes leaving home in the dark.

School begins with chapel. There we recite the Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag. We have no feeling for the flag but we like the words; said in unison, they sound like a chant. We then listen to a morning prayer. We say the Lord's Prayer. It is the singing that makes morning chapel the happiest moment of the day. It is there I learn to sing "Red River Valley." It is a song about missing and longing. I do not understand all the words, only the feeling—warm wet sorrow, like playing games in spring rain.

After chapel, we go to classrooms. Here at the country school, we must always work to raise money—selling candy, raffle tickets, having shows for which tickets are sold. Sold to our parents, neighbors, friends, people without money who are shamed into buying little colored paper they cannot afford, tickets that will help keep the school going.

We learn about color with crayons. We learn to tell the difference between white and pink and a color they call Flesh. The flesh-colored crayon amuses us. Like white, it never shows up on the thick Manila paper they give us to draw on, or on the brown paper sacks we draw on at home. Flesh, we know, has no relationship to our skin, for we are brown and brown and brown like all good things.

I must sell tickets for a Tom Thumb wedding, one of the school shows. We get to dress up in paper wedding clothes and go through a ceremony for the entertainment of the adults. The whole thing makes me sick but no one cares. Like every other girl, I want to be the bride, but I am not chosen. It always has to do with money. The important roles go to the children whose parents have money to give, who will work hard selling tickets. I am lucky to be a bridesmaid, to wear a red crepe paper dress made just for me. I am not thrilled with such luck. I would rather not wear a paper dress, not be in a make-believe wedding. They tell me that I am lucky to be lighter skinned, not black black, not dark brown, lucky to have hair that is almost straight, otherwise I might not be in the wedding at all, otherwise I might not be so lucky.

This luck angers me and when I am angry things always go wrong. We are practicing in our paper dresses, walking down the aisle while the piano music plays a wedding march. We are practicing to be brides, to be girls who will grow up to be given away. My legs would rather be running, itch to go outdoors. My legs are dreaming, adventurous legs. They cannot walk down the aisle without protest. They go too fast. They go too slow. They make everything slow down. The girl walking behind me steps on the red dress; it tears. It moves from my flesh like wind moving against the running legs. I am truly lucky now to have this tear. I hope they will make me sit, but they say No, we would not think of taking you out of the show. They know how much every girl wants to be in a wedding. The tear must be mended. The red dress, like a woman's heart, must break silently and in secret.

**Questions to Consider:**

1. How does this passage illustrate aspects of the Jim Crow era? Be specific and identify several of them.

2. Use an intersectional approach to explain the gender and class dynamics in this memoir. In what ways do they affect hooks's childhood experiences differently from African American boys, black girls of higher economic status, or white girls of the same class background?