Baby Girl," I say. "I need you remember everything I told you. Do you remember what I told you?" She still crying steady, but the hiccups are gone. "To wipe my bottom good when I'm done?" "No, baby, the other one. About who you are.

Miss Celia stares down into the pot like she's looking for her future. "Are you happy, Minny?" "Why you ask me funny questions like that?" "But are you?" "Course I's happy. You happy too. Big house, big yard, husband looking after you." I frown at Miss Celia and I make sure she can see it. Because ain't that white people for you, wondering if they are happy ENOUGH.

When you little, you only get asked two questions, what’s your name and how old you is, so you better get em right.

The day your child says she hates you, and every child will go through the phase, it kicks like a foot in the stomach.

She's wearing a tight red sweater and a red skirt and enough makeup to scare a hooker.

I have never been more proud of the United States than I am this year. We have elected an African-American president. We have the stellar Michelle Obama setting the standard for American women. I simply cannot say it enough: look how far we've come.

Lord, I never seen blue hair on a black woman before or since. Leroy say you look like a cracker from outer space.