Children’s Literature in Education (2019) 50:431–448

https://doi.org/10.1007/s10583-018-9358-6

ORIGINAL PAPER

Black Girls Matter: Black Feminisms and Rita

Williams-Garcia’s One Crazy Summer Trilogy

Mary J. Henderson1

Published online: 7 April 2018

 Springer Science+Business Media, LLC, part of Springer Nature 2018

Abstract Media platforms frequently report on ‘‘Black Lives Matter’’ in order to

raise awareness about institutional racism. However, these platforms often focus on
African American male teenagers (Trayvon Martin in a hoodie and ‘‘Hands Up,
Don’t Shoot’’ for Michael Brown). Noticeably absent are images of Black girls. As
a response to these male-focused images, the hashtag movement #BlackGirlsMatter
draws attention to the injustices Black girls face. Unfortunately, the reach of this
hashtag movement is limited; only select outlets mention the significance of
#BlackGirlsMatter. This limited reach is problematic given that many public
schools—where many Black girls experience oppression—are still unaware of the
institutional racism within their own policies and procedures. In order for educators
and children to become cognizant of the systematic oppression at the intersection of
race and gender, they must read texts that clearly align with cultural theories, such
as Critical Race Theory and Black feminism, in order to potentially empower young
readers. This article demonstrates how Black feminist theory can provide a useful
framework for exploring the nuances of children’s novels, using Rita Williams-
Garcia’s One Crazy Summer trilogy as an example. One Crazy Summer (Amistad,
New York, 2010), P.S. Be Eleven (Amistad, New York, 2013), and Gone Crazy in
Alabama (2015) contain representations of Black women and girls that assist
readers in recognizing and naming systematic racism and sexism so that they may
become more aware of paths for social justice.

Mary J. Henderson, Ph.D., is an Assistant Professor at Morgan State University, an HBCU, in Baltimore,
Maryland. Currently, she teaches undergraduate and graduate courses in adolescent literature and ethnic
American literature.

& Mary J. Henderson

Mary.couzelis@morgan.edu
1
Morgan State University, 1700 East Cold Spring Lane, Baltimore, MD 21251, USA

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Keywords Children’s literature
African American literature
Historical fiction

Black feminism
Black Panthers

In the past few years, mainstream media and social-media platforms have reported
on ‘‘new’’ civil rights campaigns, such as Black Lives Matter, in an effort to raise
awareness about institutional racism. These movements and the media’s portrayal of
them often focus on African American male teenagers (Trayvon Martin in a hoodie
and ‘‘Hands Up, Don’t Shoot’’ for Michael Brown). Additionally, in 2014 President
Obama launched the My Brother’s Keeper Initiative that focuses on creating
opportunities for success for young men of color (‘‘Fact Sheet’’). Although both are
examples of important and needed programs, African American girls are noticeably
absent in many social justice initiatives. As a response to these male-focused images
and initiatives, hashtag movements have begun to draw attention to the concerns
surrounding young girls, such as #BlackGirlsMatter. However, the reach of these
hashtag movements is limited. Only select outlets are picking up the significance of
the campaign. This limited reach is problematic given that many public education
institutions—locations where many of these girls experience oppression—are still
not aware of the institutional racism within their own policies and procedures that
impact African American girls’ lives.
In Diverse Issues in Higher Education, Atiya S. Strothers (2016) discusses why
#BlackGirlsMatter needs to be part of national conversations. Two poignant points
Strothers states are, ‘‘We need to say #BlackGirlsMatter because our bodies
continue to be over sexualized, our hair over analyzed, and our personalities over
criticized,’’ and, ‘‘We need to say #BlackGirlsMatter because we must acknowledge
the violence within the community that attacks the minds of our girls and women.’’
Although Strothers has several other important statements on why #BlackGirlsMat-
ter needs national attention, those correlate especially well with Monique Morris’s
(2016) report that describes the racism–sexism Black girls face. Morris reports:
from coast to coast, Black girls tell stories of being pushed out of school and
criminalized for falling asleep, standing up for themselves, asking questions,
wearing natural hair, wearing revealing clothing and, in some cases, engaging
in unruly (although not criminal or delinquent) acts in school—mostly because
what constitutes a threat to safety is dangerously subjective when Black
children are involved. (2016, p. 57)
These stories of expulsion at the intersection of race and gender correlate with other
statistics. Kimberlé Williams Crenshaw, Priscilla Ocen, and Jyoti Nanda composed
a report in conjunction with The African American Policy Forum and Center for
Intersectionality and Social Policy Studies titled ‘‘Black Girls Matter: Pushed Out,
Overpoliced and Underprotected’’ (2015) that further demonstrates that Black girls
are in need of social justice programs and activism. Crenshaw et al. (2015, p. 16)
note that ‘‘Data released by the Department of Education for the 2011–2012 school
year reveal that while Black males were suspended more than three times as often as
their white counterparts, Black girls were suspended six times as often.’’

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Additionally, their research found that ‘‘the relative risk for suspension is higher for
Black girls when compared to white girls than it is for Black boys when compared
to white boys. As such, these data reveal that in some cases, race may be a more
significant factor for females than it is for males’’ (Crenshaw et al., 2015, p. 17).
When faced with such overwhelming evidence of institutional racism, the necessity
to empower African American girls and their peers so they may identify systematic
oppression and to stand up for social justice is clear.
In order for educators and children to become cognizant of the systematic
oppression at the intersection of race and gender, they must read texts that clearly
align with cultural theories, such as Critical Race Theory and Black feminism, in
order to potentially empower adolescent readers. KaaVonia Hinton (2004, p. 60)
argues that Black feminist theory is a useful tool to introduce in middle and
secondary Language Arts classrooms. She explains, ‘‘Though words such as black
and feminist may suggest the identity of the person who uses the theory, this is not
the intent. Any critic, regardless of race or sex, can critique a work using a black
feminist perspective’’ (Hinton, 2004, p. 60, italics in original). By introducing the
basic concepts that undergird Black feminist theory, readers of all genders and
ethnicities can become more aware of the injustices found at the intersection of race
and gender. Furthermore, by pairing the theoretical concepts with historical fiction,
a genre still heavily depended upon in elementary and middle schools (see
Schwebel, 2011), students may be more inclined to discuss the difficult issues of the
present. For these reasons, this article demonstrates how Black feminist theory can
provide a useful framework for exploring the nuances of children’s novels, using
Rita Williams-Garcia’s One Crazy Summer trilogy as an example. One Crazy
Summer (2010), P.S. Be Eleven (2013), and Gone Crazy in Alabama (2015) contain
representations of Black women and girls that assist readers in recognizing and
naming systematic racism and sexism so that they may become more aware of paths
for social justice.
Williams-Garcia’s trilogy follows three African American sisters: Delphine,
Vonetta, and Fern Gaither. In One Crazy Summer the girls visit their estranged
mother, Cecile, who is a Member of the Black Panther Party in Oakland, California,
become educated within the Party’s platform, and establish a relationship with their
mother. The sequel, P.S. Be Eleven, explores how the girls use their education for
empowerment as they adjust back to life in Brooklyn, New York. The last novel in
the trilogy, Gone Crazy in Alabama, rounds out the girls’ education as they learn
how the South and its history shape Black families. These books highlight women
activists and the Black feminist currents that supported their participation in the
Civil Rights Movement. The first book, One Crazy Summer, most directly addresses
the substantial role of women’s activism in the Black Panther Party and subtly
exposes readers to Black feminism. The other two books demonstrate how the
lessons learned through the Black Panther platform (and other Black women’s
activism outside of the party) can be applied to multiple areas of the children’s lives.
These narrative strategies potentially empower audiences to address the systematic
racism and sexism in their own lives. By reading these texts through the framework
of Black feminism, readers and educators alike may instill the message to all that
Black girls truly matter.

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Black Feminisms and Children’s Literature

While many students are aware of feminism at an elementary level, rarely do they
know the different waves and that there are feminisms that include the intersection
of race and gender. Beverly Guy-Sheftall (1995, p. 2) contends, ‘‘Black women
experience a special kind of oppression and suffering in this country which is racist,
sexist, and classist because of their dual racial and gender identity and their limited
access to economic resources.’’ Bell Hooks has been prolific in criticizing the
whiteness and elitism of the various waves and strands of feminism, saying they
ignore how gender intersects with other identities, like race, class, and sexuality, and
how oppressions differ at the intersections of various identities. Hooks proclaims in
Ain’t I a Woman: Black Women and Feminism:
My intense engagement with feminist consciousness raising compelled me to
confront the reality of race, class, and gender difference…within women’s
liberation circles, I could not find a place for myself within the movement. My
experience as a young black female was not acknowledged. (2015/1981,
Preface)
In Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center Hooks provides as further example how
the movement’s focus on women working as a key to liberation ignored the women
who were already in labor forces and how labor structures oppress female workers,
especially women of color (Hooks, 2015/1984, p. 99). Zenub Kakli (2011, p. 178)
argues that because Black women encounter racial and sexist discrimination at
institutional and personal levels, they are often compelled ‘‘to work for justice in
and for their communities,’’ but this work is done at the margins and goes
unacknowledged. Wanda Brooks et al. (2008, p. 661) state that ‘‘Because African
American girls and women share common encounters connected to being both black
and female in society, they collectively experience a distinctive and multiplicitous
reality.’’ Even though African American girls and women share similar discrim-
inatory experiences at the intersection of race and gender, young girls are often
unaware of their foremothers’ battles against oppression.
Black feminism works to raise awareness about social justice both in the home
and in the public arena for women and is a valuable tool for students, especially
African American girls, to become of aware of at a young age. Jonda C. McNair and
Brooks (2012, p. 568) believe that Black feminist scholarship can benefit both
educators and young girls because ‘‘Between the ages of 8 to 12, African American
girls begin forming their teenage identities, and the intersectionality tenet influences
these formations.’’ In other words, when African American girls learn about the
ways power shifts at the intersection of various identities, they may have more
agency in how those confluences impact their sense of self. Additionally, as
educators become more aware of these systematic inequalities, they may empower
their students and challenge institutional policies that unjustly target Black girls.
Educators and readers must understand the ways African American women’s
work and activism have been oppressed on multiple levels in order to create spaces
for agency. Identifying the intersection of oppression is critical for young girls,

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especially young Black girls, because injustice can be executed by someone close to
them. ‘‘Black feminism recognizes the multiple minority statuses that Black women
hold in society, being subjected to racism and sexism often by members of their own
community’’ (Mowatt et al., 2013, p. 647). Inequitable systems of justice can occur
in the classroom, the church, and even the family unit. Therefore, Black feminist
theory draws attention to the ways Black women have been oppressed, which
Patricia Collins sees as threefold: exploitation of labor, denial of political rights, and
perpetuation of stereotypical imagery (1990, pp. 6–7). African American girls (as
well as other children, regardless of gender and ethnicity) need books that depict
how to perceive and resist oppression, and how to act for social justice.
The use of African American children’s literature as a vehicle for social justice is
critical for educators. As Brooks and McNair (2015, p. 299) point out, ‘‘African
American children’s literature plays an essential part in the educative process in
schools and serves as a means of acculturation for children by shaping their values,
beliefs, and worldviews.’’ Offering students historical fictions that create social
awareness by introducing the basic tenets of Black feminism provide an opportunity
to educate students on important figures in African American civil rights
movements, to introduce them to the notion of political rights, and to counter the
stereotypical imagery about Black girls and women that mainstream media
perpetuates. Several children’s literature scholars have applied Black feminisms to
analyses of picture books and young adult novels to demonstrate the value of the
critical framework to children’s literature. For example, Brooks, Susan Browne and
Gregory Hampton (2008) utilize Black feminist thought to analyze reader responses
to colorism in one young adult novel. Brooks et al. (2010) use Black feminism along
with adolescent identity development theory to analyze the representation of Black
girlhood in five young adult novels. Their critical framework demonstrates how
theoretical underpinnings can illuminate pervasive themes important to African
American female authors, such as the complexity of female identity (intellectual,
physical and sexual identities) and the impact of kinship on identity development.
McNair and Brooks (2012) rely on Black feminist theory to analyze the
representations of girlhood in transitional chapter books, highlighting the way
narratives and images can contest offensive representations of Black girls and
women. Finally, Brooks and McNair (2015) use Black feminist theory and cultural
studies to analyze representations of Black girls’ hair in picture books. Their work
highlights how the intersection of race, gender, sexuality, and class influences
beauty standards that impact individuals’ conceptualization of hair and its
connections to identity. This article adds to the growing field of scholarship
demonstrating that middle readers can benefit from exposure to basic tenets of
critical theory. The analysis of the trilogy that follows is organized based on the
three forms of oppression outlined by Collins: exploitation of labor, denial of
political rights, and perpetuation of stereotypical imagery.

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‘‘Women’s liberation and can’t boil a turnip’’: Exploitation of Labor

In her groundbreaking work, Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness,

and the Politics of Empowerment (1990), Collins analyzes two primary areas where
Black women’s labor is exploited: at home and in the marketplace. Black women’s
familial work is ‘‘simultaneously confining and empowering’’ (pp. 51–52) partially
because patriarchal society sets as the feminine ideal a woman who stays home with
the family. African American women are in a double-bind: If they stay home, they
are accused of being ‘‘lazy,’’ yet if they must work outside the home, they are seen
as abandoning their children or as being less ‘‘feminine’’ (Collins, 1990, p. 53).
Many African American women—as well as women of other races—find domestic
pressures suffocating and restricting of their other potential careers and skills, yet
may not vocalize this frustration for fear of seeming like ‘‘unnatural’’ mothers who
do not love their families. Williams-Garcia’s trilogy takes up these issues in order
for readers to confront their assumptions about motherhood and its relation to
women’s activism.
One Crazy Summer introduces Cecile, the estranged mother of Delphine,
Vonetta, and Fern. Initially, Big Ma, Delphine’s paternal grandmother, paints Cecile
as a woman who abandoned her children. Delphine remembers, ‘‘Big Ma said
Cecile lived on the street. The park bench was her bed. She lived in a hole in the
wall’’ (Williams-Garcia, 2010, p. 23). Big Ma only imagines womanhood as
connected to raising children. If a woman’s priority is not her family, then the only
alternative Big Ma can picture is one of desolation. Delphine visits her mother and
learns Cecile is not homeless; she lives in a nice green stucco house with a yard.
This knowledge does not stop Big Ma’s belittlement of Cecile, as well as other
women who elect to participate in forms of labor outside of motherhood. For
instance, Big Ma insults Delphine’s future stepmother, Miss Marva Hendrix, who
would rather be out campaigning for a female political candidate than home cooking
for her new family, saying in regards to Marva: ‘‘Women’s liberation and can’t boil
a turnip. That woman’s going to turn my girls into useless jaw-jerkers’’ (p. 59). Big
Ma’s responses demonstrate the ways that white, patriarchal values influence the
way in which members of the African American community view themselves.
Cecile’s life story further illustrates the ways in which society debases Black
women’s work and creates constricting subject positions for mothers. Her mother
was killed when Cecile was eleven years old. Her aunt took her in and made Cecile
look after her children, sleeping on a blanket on the floor in the children’s room.
However, when Cecile was sixteen, the aunt kicked her out of the house because she
was uncomfortable with a teenage girl around her new husband (Williams-Garcia,
2010, p. 207). Initially, Cecile does live on the streets, but eventually a man named
Louis (Delphine’s father) takes her in. Cecile tells Delphine that Louis ‘‘Didn’t ask
me to do much but cook. Sweep. Wash his clothes’’ (Williams-Garcia, 2010,
p. 208), and then Cecile adds that the next year she had Delphine. Both of these
stories imply two things about African American girls’ work. First, girls’ bodies are
connected to their labor—as they labor, their bodies are often assumed to be
accessible for sexual pleasure by men. Second, Cecile’s labor is taken for granted

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and restricted to the domestic arts, such as child rearing, cooking, and cleaning.
Both her aunt and Louis exploit Cecile’s domestic labor, keeping her dependent on
them and without the opportunity to acquire other skills or money of her own. The
aunt, Louis, and Big Ma all represent voices of oppression from within the African
American community.
Hooks (2015/1984, p. 103) notes that working Black women encounter multiple
forms of oppression, stating: ‘‘Women are exploited economically in jobs, but they
are also exploited psychologically. They are taught via sexist ideology to devalue
their contributions to the labor force.’’ Cecile rejects this ideology and instead
values her labor as a poet. However, standing up to sexism and valuing women’s
labor is difficult. Once Cecile is in California, exploitation of her labor continues
after she purchases her own printing press and uses it in her home to publish her
poems. During this time, she associates with the Oakland Black Panthers, who do
not appreciate how expensive and time consuming it is to operate a hand-cranked
printing press. Three Black Panthers come to Cecile’s home and demand that she
print flyers for them, thus devaluing her labor as a poet. She objects, saying, ‘‘Paper
isn’t free. Ink isn’t free. My printing press isn’t free. I’m not free’’ (p. 45). Yet, the
Panthers do not offer her money or supplies; they assume her labor is theirs to use in
support of the cause. The male Black Panthers demonstrate hegemonic sexism
despite their fight against racism. Such conflicting ideologies (fighting one form of
oppression while perpetuating another) were not uncommon during the Civil Rights
era, according to Hooks. She states, ‘‘The strongest element between militant black
men and white men was their shared sexism—they both believed in the inherent
inferiority of woman and supported male dominance’’ (Hooks, 2015/1981, Chap. 3).
Through her exchange with the male Black Panthers, readers see a Black woman
who values her own talents and resources, and they see how a woman can object to
the exploitation of her labor, a concept that is both potentially empowering for the
intended audience and also educational. Robyn McCallum (1999, p. 7) argues that
adolescent novels ‘‘typically assume and valorize humanistic concepts of individual
agency, that is the capacity to act independently of social restraint. However, the
image of empowered individuals capable of acting independently in the world and
of making choices about their lives offers children a worldview which for many is
simply idealistic and unattainable.’’ However, in this case, Cecile objects to the
abuse of her labor, but the men wear her down. She is part of a social order that only
allows so much resistance, a realistic depiction for young readers who must learn to
recognize oppression, witness patterns of resistance, and consider the realistic
results of those actions.
Additionally, Cecile’s labor as a poet and her position as ‘‘Poet of the People’’
offer readers another layer of insight as Cecile could be read as an ode to a historical
individual, the Black feminist activist and educator who was known as ‘‘the Poet of
the People,’’ June Jordan (1936–2002). Jordan wrote poetry, children’s books,
lyrics, speeches, and journalistic essays, frequently speaking out on multiple forms
of oppression: race, gender, class and sexuality. Jordan realized that Black women’s
labor was often devalued, and she also recognized how women, like the fictional Big
Ma, can oppress the younger generation by causing children to internalize
ideologies that silence them and teach them to not resist racism and sexism. Big Ma

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was raised in the rural South, and she learned habits to survive Alabama’s racism
and sexism. Frequently, Big Ma instructs the girls to be silent and passive around
white people and to not make a ‘‘grand Negro spectacle’’ (Williams-Garcia, 2010,
p. 2). Jordan’s ‘‘Old Stories, New Lives’’ from Some of Us Did Not Die addresses
this problem when she warns how children are reared to accept the world around
them:
Mostly, of course, our children will not survive our habits of think-
ing…Mostly, our children will resemble our own misery and spite and
anger, because we give them no choice about it. In the name of motherhood
and fatherhood and education and good manners, we threaten and suffocate
and bind and ensnare and bribe and trick children into wholesale emulation of
our ways. (2003, p. 277)
Big Ma is an example of this miseducation because, although she intends to protect
her granddaughters, her ways potentially indoctrinate the girls to internalize racism
and sexism. Cecile represents activists like Jordan; the women who draw attention
to oppression, even oppression that occurs within their own communities. Cecile,
the other women in the Black Panther Party, and Marva Hendrix all act as a
counterbalance to Big Ma’s indoctrination. They educate Delphine on how to stand
up for herself against racism and sexism, even in her own family.
Delphine demonstrates what she has learned about the relationship between
oppression, social justice, and women’s labor when Big Ma attempts to force
Delphine to embrace domestic labor, a form of work often connected to racist and
sexist ideologies. Delphine’s empowerment and decision to reject labor she sees as
oppressive can be read as social activism. Big Ma tells her to do the ironing in a way
that is more difficult and labor intensive than it needs to be, and Delphine thinks
before she asserts her agency, ‘‘Maybe it was the short time I had spent with Cecile
and the Black Panthers last summer. It was harder to do what I was asked without
speaking up when I didn’t want to do it at all. Maybe it was how Mrs. [Marva] half-
jokingly said, ‘The slaves have been freed, Delphine,’ whenever she saw me doing
things the long, hard way’’ (William-Garcia, 2015, p. 62). Delphine now knows that
she has a choice, as Jordan points out, a choice to not emulate the ways that oppress:
‘‘I had to speak up for myself’’ (William-Garcia, 2015, p. 63), and she later tells her
grandmother: ‘‘Ironing and sweating when you don’t have to be ironing and
sweating is oppression. And I won’t be oppressed’’ (William-Garcia, 2015, p. 79).
While some adults might read Delphine’s assertion as trivial rebellion (she just
doesn’t want to do a house chore), her actions actually reflect a ‘‘local disruption,’’
or a manner of resistance that takes many forms both in the private and public
spheres. Social activists acknowledge small disruptions as significant as they show
agency and resistance. Heather Oesterreich explains ‘‘local disruptions’’ as moments
when:
(1) they construct themselves as a leader and activist connected to other
people; (2) use their agency of dress to redress how people have constructed
them; (3) learn to leave people behind who might keep them back; and (4)
utilize artistic and political creation and performance to survive. (2007, p. 17)

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Although Delphine does not use creativity in this moment, she does connect labor
and performance to activism. She will not allow her labor to be abused and
devalued; she constructs herself as a leader, connecting her actions to the female
activists of the Black Panther Party and her feminist stepmother; and she addresses a
woman who wants to indoctrinate her into submissive thinking. In this moment and
other moments throughout the trilogy, Delphine learns about the value of Black
women’s labor, and these moments often coincide with her, and by default, the
reader’s, education about political rights.

‘‘I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired’’: Political Education

Black feminists have always been concerned about the connection between Black
women’s political rights and their education. An early Black feminist, Anna Julia
Cooper, discusses this intersection in her 1892 work A Voice from the South: By a
Black Woman of the South. Although Cooper was born into enslavement, she went
on to become one of the first Black women to receive a doctoral degree. Cooper’s
life experience and educational knowledge led her to believe that marginalized
individuals could not combat disenfranchisement unless they were properly
educated. As V. Thandi Sulé (2013, p. 215) summarizes, Cooper believed that
‘‘Because the economic survival of the Black community was dependent upon the
labor of Black women, educational access was imperative.’’ Cooper (2000/1982,
p. 61) contends that ‘‘only through woman’s development and education…she may
fitly and intelligently stamp her force on the forces of her day.’’ Cooper’s blending
of education and activism connects to more recent Black feminists who are
concerned about the institutional structures that deny political rights to African
American women, including access to quality education.
Quality education for Black girls is difficult to obtain when education curriculum
currently whitewashes and/or focuses on male achievements within social justice
movements. For example, although students may learn about Martin Luther King,
Jr. and Malcolm X, rarely have they heard about prominent Black female activists
and leaders such as Fannie Lou Hamer, Ella J. Baker, Angela Davis, June Jordan,
and Shirley Chisholm. The lack of education about women such as these impacts the
ability for political activism because, when girls fail to receive knowledge of their
history they are denied role models who vocalized their subject positions at the
intersections of race, gender, and class during political movements. In addition to
drawing attention to the exploitation of Black women’s labor, Williams-Garcia’s
three books do the important work of educating children about political activism on
multiple levels.
The trilogy acts as a counterstory for those narratives that contain ‘‘embedded
preconceptions that marginalize others or conceal their humanity’’ (Delgado and
Stefancic, 2012, p. 48). The trilogy offers an alternate history that retells events in
such a way as to combat dominant ideologies about marginalized communities. In
particular, One Crazy Summer provides an account of the Black Panthers that allows
readers to take pride in the movement’s history and to see how Black women were
an active part of the party. During the 1960s and 1970s, mainstream media

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portrayed the Black Panthers as militant, violent, and aggressive. Images in

newspapers showed armed African American males roaming the streets, thus
undermining the Black Panther Party’s complexity and the political rationale behind
their activities. In One Crazy Summer, however, Delphine experiences the Black
Panther-sponsored communal breakfast and education classes. She thinks to herself,
‘‘It wasn’t at all the way the television showed militants—that’s what they called the
Black Panthers. Militants, who from the newspapers were angry fist wavers with
their mouths wide-open and their rifles ready for shooting. They never showed
anyone like Sister Mukumbu or Sister Pat, passing out toast and teaching in
classrooms’’ (Williams-Garcia, 2010, p. 87). One Crazy Summer humanizes the
Black Panthers and brings to light their mission of feeding and educating Black
children to recognize and fight oppression in society. The narrative directs the
reader to consider why the media may want to ignore the communal good the Black
Panthers accomplished.
Delphine’s political education classes also give her tools to address her political
rights. Even the classroom design empowers or disempowers African American
children. Delphine remembers that her regular public school only displays posters of
George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, and President Johnson, all white men who
fought oppression, but never African Americans who fought on behalf of their
people. In the Black Panther classroom, Delphine sees only African American men
and women on the walls. Although she is unfamiliar with one of the women
pictured, Delphine reads the quote by the image: ‘‘I’m sick and tired of being sick
and tired’’ (Williams-Garcia, 2010, p. 69). Readers may not know this famous
phrase from the African American activist Fannie Lou Hamer, so Williams-Garcia
uses this moment to inspire the reader to do a quick bit of research to fill in the gap
in Delphine’s knowledge. Hamer was not a part of the Black Panthers but was
important to the Democratic convention platform and was a strong advocate for
racial equality and women’s rights. The author’s use of inspirational African
American figures shows the counterstorytelling technique of including forgotten or
overlooked historical figures that fought for their community’s rights. As a result,
readers may begin to question why their own public school classrooms might have
predominantly white figures on the walls and begin to wonder, as Delphine does,
why they do not recognize important African American historical figures.
Because the Black Panthers laid the educational foundation for the girls to
identify power and its connection to racism and sexism, Delphine is able to see
power and its ramifications in multiple spheres. This recognition correlates to Black
feminism. As Oesterreich (2007, p. 6) advocates, ‘‘Black feminist frameworks
recognize that the ‘self’ is always embedded in multiple social worlds, and that all
that is personal is also political.’’ Williams-Garcia best depicts how multiple worlds
shape the self in P.S. Be Eleven. At the beginning of the novel, the three sisters stand
up for themselves when they have to bypass people waiting in line for the bathroom
because Fern is about to have an accident. However, after they have felt
empowered, Delphine fears what often follows empowerment, oppression. When
marginalized communities and individuals assert their agency and demand equality,
dominant society frequently creates a backlash to reinforce submission. Delphine
remembers her lessons from the Black Panther education classes as she hopes the

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white woman she stood up to will not tattle on the girls to Big Ma. Delphine thinks,
‘‘Right now, the last thing I could do was to speak up. The last thing I had was any
power at all. The only thing I had from being at the People’s Center with Sister
Mukumbu and Sister Pat was the word for the opposite of power: Oppression’’
(Willliams-Garcia, 2013, p. 13, italics in original). Delphine is oppressed in this
moment by two individuals: her grandmother and a white woman.
Although Delphine feels disempowered in this moment, her thoughts highlight
the power of silence. Delphine immediately thinks that although she may feel
oppressed, she has one form of power: ‘‘The power to do nothing but keep my
mouth shut’’ (William-Garcia, 2013, p. 13). Granted, Delphine may be sarcastic in
this moment, but this scene complements a later scene in the chapter. In this
moment she sarcastically says she has the power to be silent, something her
oppressors indeed hope she does. Yet, moments later, after Big Ma slaps her for
humiliating the family, Delphine invokes silence as a power move. Big Ma may
expect Delphine to cry, to attempt to explain, or to apologize for upsetting a white
woman, but Delphine actively chooses to not make a sound: ‘‘I held it inside
because that was the only power I had’’ (William-Garcia, 2013, p. 15). Delphine has
learned through the education classes that resisting oppression can take multiple
forms. She can elect to not give into her own emotions and she can select to resist
through silence.
Because the personal is also political, Delphine must also learn that while she
may invoke various forms of power in several spheres, she must also realize that
even her own power can be oppressive. ‘‘Depending on their positions in social
structures and hierarchies,’’ suggests Minoo Alinia (2015, p. 2335), ‘‘individuals
and groups can become part of oppressive systems and reproduce domination.
People can at the same time be oppressed in one setting and oppressors in another.’’
In P.S. Be Eleven Delphine becomes an oppressor, restricting her sisters’ agency
after she returns home from California. Marva observes the three sisters’
interactions and informs Delphine: ‘‘if you keep your sisters down they’ll never
learn.’’ Delphine recognizes the message as: ‘‘I heard her calling me an oppressor’’
(William-Garcia, 2013, p. 81). Similar to Big Ma, who has good intentions but
frequently acts as an oppressor to the girls by forcing them to smile at white people
and to not make a ‘‘big Negro spectacle,’’ Delphine also has power that may oppress
others, namely, her younger sisters. Black feminist thought highlights how power
and oppression shift. In the home, Big Ma has a power that she does not have in
public settings, especially public settings shared with white people. Similarly,
Delphine’s power comes and goes in her interactions with Big Ma, but she has
imbibed that system of domination and uses it on her sisters.
Williams-Garcia further uses education to empower by highlighting Black female
historical figures and contemplating their relationships with oppressive systems.
Throughout the second novel, Marva works for Shirley Chisholm’s congressional
election campaign. Chisholm (1924–2005), who served in Congress from 1969 to
1983 and ran for president in 1972, often focused on the intersection of poverty,
racism, and sexism (Curwood, 2015, p. 205). Furthermore, she was favored by the
Black Panther Party. According to Anastasia Curwood (2015, p. 224), ‘‘Party
cofounder Huey Newton formally endorsed Chisholm, explaining that ‘Sister

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Chisholm has a simple platform: survival,’ that directly echoed the Black Panther
Party’s ‘survival programs’ of providing food, shelter, education, and other
necessities to poor black people.’’ Marva invokes political action through her
campaign assistance, and Chisholm demonstrates a Black woman succeeding in a
large, public political arena. Rarely do students learn about the first African
American woman to win a seat in Congress, and the likelihood that readers know
that a Black woman once ran for president is slim. Delphine thinks after hearing of
Chisholm’s victory: ‘‘I knew it was a good thing. An incredible thing. But I wasn’t
sure if her victory made a dent. Was it real power, like the Black Panthers mean
power, or was it just a taste of power’’ as in ‘‘it didn’t mean everything had
changed’’ (Williams-Garcia, 2013, p. 207). If readers follow the textual cue, they
may research more about Chisholm to learn that she faced much resistance within
Congress, but she did make a difference for her constituents despite systematic
racism and sexism. Black feminism recognizes the diversity of Black women’s
stories and that power and knowledge shift depending on experiences and goals.
Through education about the past, readers may more fully understand their own
history and reconsider how, even in contemporary times, we must still fight for
political rights at the intersections of race, gender, sexuality, and economic class.

‘‘A good head on her shoulders and a loud mouth’’: Combatting

Stereotypes

Black women’s labor has been devalued and educational rights denied often as a
result of stereotypes that oppress women and girls. Karen Johnson (2000, Chap. 1)
describes an important function of Black feminism as ‘‘the necessity of internalizing
positive self-definitions and rejecting the denigrating, stereotypical, and controlling
images of others, both within and without the Black community.’’ Although there
are several stereotypes about Black women that suppress their roles in society and
contribute to the denial of their political rights, two of the most complex stereotypes
are the matriarch and the Sapphire (or, as it is unfortunately called in more modern
times, the angry Black woman). These two stereotypes are frequently perpetuated to
restrict the agency of African American women and girls.
The matriarch stereotype portrays Black women as strong maternal women, yet
perpetuates patriarchal ideologies that limit women’s potential for political
activism. Christopher Sewell (2013, p. 314) explains that, although the matriarch
represents ‘‘a strong Black woman,’’ dominant ideology twists that stereotype into
an overbearing figure ‘‘who, due to economic constraints that kept Black men out of
the labor force, has to take charge in her home.’’ The matriarch maintains the
restrictive subject position of motherhood for women and adds the negative
connotation of domineering femininity. Furthermore, as Hooks (2015/1981, Chap. 2)
contends, ‘‘The term matriarch implies the existence of a social order in which
women exercise social and political power, a state which in no way resembles the
condition of black women or all women in American society.’’ To challenge the
matriarch stereotype, Williams-Garcia’s trilogy uses Big Ma to illustrate the
restrictive nature of the matriarch role.

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Women may embrace the title of matriarch because they assume it has more
positive connotations than other stereotypes but ‘‘few black women exercise
decision-making power,’’ even within their roles as matriarch (Hooks, 2015/1981,
Chap 2). Although Big Ma is a dominating figure throughout the trilogy, as a
matriarch her power is confined within patriarchal power. For instance, even though
Big Ma has lived with Delphine and the family since Cecile left them and is the
primary caretaker for the children, her power has limitations. Not only is she
restricted by the internalization of white supremacist ideology that makes her
submissive at times to white individuals, she is also constrained by how little
influence she has in the home of her son. Early in the first narrative, Big Ma openly
disagrees with Pa’s decision to send the girls to Oakland. However, even though Big
Ma voices her opinion, Pa refuses to discuss the topic. Delphine notes, ‘‘Pa has a
respectful way of ignoring Big Ma…He’s good at it’’ (Williams-Garcia, 2010, p. 5).
Pa does not deliberate his decision with his mother, and he does not even respond to
her words. His silence and Big Ma’s subsequent dropping of the subject illustrate
the power dynamic between the two. Big Ma may tend to the children, but all major
decisions remain solely Pa’s. He does not have to justify or even vocalize his
reasons to the only woman in the household. He holds the power in the house, thus
demonstrating that, although matriarchs seem powerful, they ultimately submit to
patriarchal structures.
Williams-Garcia further complicates the matriarch subject position by depicting
the negative influence it has on Delphine. Matriarchs are first and foremost mothers,
who typically represent no other subject role for girls to follow. Within the African
American community, ‘‘Young women are often carefully groomed at an early age
to become othermothers’’ (Collins, 1990, p. 194). One limited interpretation of
‘‘Othermothers’’ is women and girls taught to take on maternal duties, such as
tending to children, cooking, and cleaning. However, othermothers are complex
figures ‘‘who assist bloodmothers by sharing mothering responsibilities’’ (Collins,
1990, p. 192). Othermothers have the potential to perform powerful roles in the
community, and their ‘‘mothering responsibilities’’ can include sharing ‘‘opposi-
tional knowledge’’ with their younger charges to help them survive and resist
oppression (Collins, 1990, p. 13). Williams-Garcia provides multiple examples of
othermothers who sometimes unintentionally pass on negative ideologies and who
sometimes empower children.
Big Ma has trained Delphine to be an othermother who cooks, cleans, and tries to
protect, discipline, and instruct her younger siblings. For example, she keeps ahold
of Fern’s watch because her little sister has not yet learned to tell time, ‘‘so I kept
hers in my drawer until she was ready to wear it’’ (Williams-Garcia, 2010, p. 8).
Even when the girls are in their mother’s presence, Vonetta and Fern frequently
look to Delphine instead of Cecile for instruction. Delphine even cooks dinner for
the family while at Cecile’s house instead of continually eating out like the two
younger girls enjoy. Cecile offers oppositional knowledge through her alternative
mothering style as she attempts to revise Delphine’s version of othermothering and,
in so doing, implies how it restricts feminist political action. As Delphine prepares
dinner, Cecile tells her: ‘‘We’re trying to break yokes. You’re trying to make one for
yourself. If you know what I know, seen what I’ve seen, you wouldn’t be so quick to

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pull the plow,’’ and then she follows with, ‘‘It wouldn’t kill you to be selfish,
Delphine’’ (Williams-Garcia, 2010, p. 110). Because Delphine has been indoctri-
nated into one form of othermothering, the girl often forgets to be eleven, to be a
child, and to be selfish (to think of her own needs and desires once in a while instead
of always putting her sisters first). This lesson is further reinforced in the other two
books as Marva, acting as another style of othermothering, encourages Delphine to
stop ‘‘keeping her sisters down’’ (Williams-Garcia, 2013, p. 81) and ‘‘Capable was
one of Mrs.’s words. She used it against me to make me stop helping my sisters’’
(Williams-Garcia, 2015, p. 4, italics in original). Her warnings, as she instructs her
future step-daughter not to oppress her sisters and to allow them to become
independent women who are not reliant on their big sister for everything, make
Delphine aware of the potential negative aspects of her othermothering indoctri-
nation. Because Delphine experiences multiple othermothers, who possess various
forms of oppositional knowledge, Delphine can become a more resilient young
woman with various skills needed to survive in an oppressive American society.
In contrast to matriarch stereotype is the angry Black woman, a modern re-
terming of the Sapphire stereotype. Hooks (2015/1981, Chap. 2) defines the
Sapphire stereotype as a Black woman who is ‘‘depicted as evil, treacherous, bitchy,
stubborn, and hateful’’ and ‘‘has been projected onto any black woman who overtly
expresses bitterness, anger, and rage.’’ This stereotype dismisses the things Black
women might have to be outraged about, such as the oppression at the intersection
of race and gender that Black men and white women traditionally have ignored.
Furthermore, the assumption that women are bitter and angry when voicing their
concerns undermines the content of their objections and opinions. The ‘‘angry Black
woman’’ also tends to have another adjective assigned to her when this stereotype is
invoked: loud. When Black women object to injustice, their vocalization is seen as
loud and unfeminine.
Marva is outspoken throughout P.S. Be Eleven and Gone Crazy in Alabama. She
frequently speaks up on the girls’ behalf to their father, and she also freely discusses
her political views instead of readily agreeing with Pa, who does not share many of
her feminist stances. Marva’s characterization demonstrates how complex it is for
women to assert their political views within patriarchal structures. Even though
Marva expresses herself freely in the beginning, after she is married and pregnant,
her energy to do so is diminished. Delphine initially describes Marva as ‘‘an out-
and-out women’s liber’’ (Williams-Garcia, 2015, p. 8), but later Delphine notices
how her father’s authority alters his wife’s voice: Pa starts ‘‘changing Mrs. before
Mrs. could upset the house’’ (Williams-Garcia, 2015, p. 9). Delphine recognizes the
importance of this change as it leaves her with one less female role model: ‘‘I knew I
really liked her when I began to miss hearing her speak her mind’’ (Williams-
Garcia, 2015, p. 19). For a woman to maintain her voice, she must continually fight
to do so, but such battles are often emotionally, mentally, and physically draining,
especially when society also pressures women to behave certain ways when
pregnant. Williams-Garcia draws attention to this vocal oppression, but she does not
relegate Marva to permanent silence. By the end of the trilogy, Marva again is her
‘‘loud’’ vocal self as she stands up for her beliefs and ‘‘refused to eat in a house full
of ‘wrong-thinking people with male-chauvinist-pig ideas’ ’’ (Williams-Garcia,

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2015, p. 270). Marva demonstrates protest even within the home environment so
that readers can see how difficult it is to be assertive in a familial setting and how
women must maintain their voices despite pressure to not be ‘‘loud’’ or ‘‘angry.’’
Marva also shows that women can cross racial boundaries to work together, yet
this work is still categorized as ‘‘loud,’’ thus unfeminine and not to be taken
seriously. Just as Williams-Garcia introduced Shirley Chisholm to her audience, she
also exposes them to Bella Abzug, for whom Marva volunteers. Again, if readers
follow the narrative strategy to further research, they will find a strong vocal woman
who worked tirelessly for activism, housing desegregation, and civil rights
legislation, and who worked with other feminists, including Shirley Chisholm
(Zarnow, 2008, p. 1035). Abzug was retained in 1948 to represent Willie McGee, an
African American male, during his third retrial where he was being accused of
raping a white female. ‘‘[Abzug] underscored that rape law was misused in the
South to police racial, sexual, and gender boundaries rather than to protect women.
Most significantly, she argued that consensual interracial sex was the central point at
issue in black-on-white rape cases’’ (Zarnow, 2008, p. 1004). Abzug recognized that
Jim Crow worked beyond binaries of just white/black, and instead, worked in the
intersections of race, gender, and sexuality. As Pa tries to dismiss women in politics
as just ‘‘noise,’’ Marva revamps his connotation describing Abzug as having ‘‘a
good head on her shoulders and a loud mouth’’ to which she quickly adds, ‘‘and I
mean that in a good way.’’ Delphine realizes the code her future stepmother is using
and thinks, ‘‘She was talking about people who weren’t afraid to say things’’
(William-Garcia, 2013, p. 185). Delphine categorizes Abzug with Angela Davis and
Kathleen Cleaver, African American women who were feminists involved with the
Black Panther Party at times (William-Garcia, 2013, p. 185). These women were all
‘‘loud mouths’’ as they refused to stay silent in the face of oppression. By exposing
readers to Big Ma, Marva, and historical women, girls may understand the ways that
stereotypes such as the matriarch and angry Black woman are used to silence their
opposition and stifle their agency.

‘‘We can all be revolutionaries’’: Conclusion

When children are exposed to the tenets of Black feminism, they can be educated on
how to perceive and name systematic oppression used against African American
women. However, Black feminism goes a step further. Johnson (2000, Chap. 1)
contends that Black feminism champions ‘‘the need for active struggle to resist
oppression and realize individual and group empowerment.’’ Activism, both
personally and publically, aligns especially well with adolescent novels. Danielle
Forest et al. (2013, p. 137) contend that adolescent novels ‘‘can spark conversations
about social justice and inspire us with depictions of agency and praxis,’’ which
allow for activism. In order for Black girls, as well as their peers, to participate in
social justice, they must comprehend more than just how institutional systems
perpetuate stereotypes, deny political rights, and exploit them. However, approach-
ing this knowledge can be daunting. As Hinton (2004, p. 63) points out, ‘‘Because
conversations about race, class, and gender can be frightening and difficult for some

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to participate in, black feminist literary theory can be used as a bridge to support
such discourse.’’ Teachers can introduce the basic tenets and pair them with books
like the One Crazy Summer trilogy. They can initiate discussions about the
intersection of racism and sexism in the past and then transition to students to make
connections in the present. Within the trilogy, readers witness how children can act
for change, and instructors can help them see how to connect with characters who
participate in activism and cultivate their agency. One Crazy Summer, P.S. Be
Eleven, and Gone Crazy in Alabama demonstrate how a young Black girl can learn
knowledge beyond the sanctioned classroom, as well as how knowledge and power
operate in multiple settings. Delphine learns to vocalize a subject position that
rejects oppression, and readers may be inspired by this behavior. As African
American girls potentially encounter institutional and social oppression, even in the
school setting by administrators, they may feel empowered to voice their concerns
and frame their resistance within a history of Black feminist activism. Boys, as well
as other girls, may learn to recognize when others are being unjustly penalized and
open up discussions or support local disruptions that contest the oppressions of
others.
Not only should change happen at an institutional and social level, but ‘‘change
can also occur in the private, personal space of an individual woman’s
consciousness. Equally fundamental, this type of change is also personally
empowering’’ (Collins, 1990, p. 129). Only by recognizing oppression can Black
girls begin to craft agentic subject positions. Cecile, the women at the Black
Panthers Education Center, Marva, and the historical figures mentioned throughout
the trilogy educate children on how to understand the world around them and their
actions in response to that world. Sister Mukumbu tells the children that they are
‘‘going to think about our part in the revolution’’ (Williams-Garcia, 2010, p. 72).
The narrative carefully chooses the word revolution so the children know that their
struggle is equally as valid as others who have fought oppression. Additionally, she
instructs the children, ‘‘we can all be revolutionaries’’ (Williams-Garcia, 2010,
p. 88).
Most significantly, the children do not have to be adults to fight for their cause.
Delphine learns to stand up for her rights multiple times. For example, she rebukes a
sales clerk who criticizes Delphine for ‘‘reading’’ a magazine without buying it by
saying: ‘‘When there’s Afros and black faces on the cover, I’ll buy one’’ (Williams-
Garcia, 2013, p. 161). Additionally, when the white Sheriff continually uses the
world ‘‘Negro’’ and ‘‘the body’’ instead of Vonetta’s name, ‘‘Like he was used to
saying the other word. The bad word,’’ Delphine screams at him to use her sister’s
name, thus demanding the Sheriff acknowledge her sister’s humanity (Williams-
Garcia, 2015, p. 214). Williams-Garcia gives her audience a child protagonist who
enacts her agency in order to contribute to the fight against institutional racism and
sexism.
Jacqueline Darvin (2008, p. 29) suggests that teenagers feel ‘‘frightened, anxious,
and helpless to do anything to change the negative aspects of society that surround
and bombard them daily.’’ As African American adolescent girls face the daunting
institutional racism and sexism that leads to higher dropout rates and lower literacy
scores, educators need to provide literature like this series. ‘‘Because much of

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African American children’s literature has a strong social justice component,’’

contends Jonda McNair (2008, p. 21), ‘‘using books written by and about African
Americans offers increased opportunities to raise students’ social consciousness and
engage them in discussions of equity and fairness in regard to issues surrounding
race, class, and gender.’’ Giving students African American books with strong Black
girls might lead to increased agency. Williams-Garcia’s novels demonstrate how
African American teens can be empowered, voice a political position, and not
succumb to oppressive systems. Black girls may understand the powerful roles their
foremothers had in fighting for Civil Rights and connect to women today following
the same path, such as the three women who founded Black Lives Matter, Patrisse
Cullors, Opal Tometi, and Alicia Garza. Although the media focuses on masculine
imagery within the Black Lives Matter Movement, if readers explore the official
organization, they will learn that women established it and the movement is fighting
for the rights of all Black people. And yet, similar to the Civil Rights era, the labor
and political activism of Black women is still pushed to the margins. By examining
the Black Panthers Movement and other institutions that function at the intersection
of race and gender from a Black feminist perspective, Williams-Garcia draws
attention to the exploitation of Black women’s and girls’ labor, the endurance of
stereotypes, and the denial of political rights. If readers are exposed to these ideas,
they may recognize the ongoing patterns in their current society. By educating
readers on these elements of oppression, the trilogy demonstrates how adolescents
may embrace activism. As Sister Mukumbu tells Delphine: ‘‘Keeping the people
informed keeps the people empowered’’ (Williams-Garcia, 2010, p. 181).

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