I did it to remember them, to mark the moment, and add my voice to the collective of love.īell hooks, our shero, has run on ahead to see how the end is going to be and when I finally accepted it, I stopped and did what was most cathartic and healing for me: I simply said her name. I said their names over and over again sometimes, I spoke their names into the wind sometimes, I said it as I wrote it down. I said Maya Angelou’s name, and Toni Morrison and Audre Lorde and Toni Cade Bambara. I said Breonna’s name, Tamir’s name and Trayvon’s name. I have said my mother-in-law and my father-in-law’s name. I said my Nana’s name, my nephew’s name, and my grandfather’s name. I think about that whenever someone I know, or I know about, passes away. When people die, they run on ahead to see how the end is going to be, and maybe when we say their name, it marks the moment that their journey begins, or perhaps it marks the moment that this journey has ended. My Nana, when I shared this with her, said that when people die, they run on ahead to see how the end is going to be, and maybe when we say their name, it marks the moment that their journey begins, or perhaps it marks the moment that this journey has ended. It was a moment to recognize her life and contributions and give voice to it. It just went on and on, and by the end, I was exhausted and spent, but I felt whole. Her aunt went first, and voice after voice joined in: Some were moaning, some were crying, some were angry that she had left them. When her cousin died, we traveled outside the city to the village for the funeral. After a long, more formal program at the church, we arrived at the gravesite, and it finally started. I had so many questions, but my host mother told me that it would not make any sense until I was there to witness and experience it for myself. You can cry or moan or shake while adding your voice to the collective of love. Years ago, when I lived in Nairobi, my host mother told me that when someone in their family dies, everyone comes together to say that person’s name over and over again. It is sometimes hard to imagine being in a world where the geniuses of your time are no longer in it. I started thinking about how I could honor her and mark this moment.
When I first heard, read, finally accepted and understood that bell hooks was gone, all I could do was sit down and catch my breath.
As someone said, our heroes are dying, and our enemies are in power. She was more than we could have asked for and gave us more than we could have ever imagined. She gave us the words to say and the courage to say them. She challenged us, taught us, spoke to and sometimes for us. Gloria Jean Watkins, Ph.D./bell hooks-genius, scholar, cultural critic, author, professor, truth speaker, a lover of words and of us. The National Women’s Studies Association mourns the passing of Dr.
This piece was originally published by the NWSA. Y in New York City after a book reading in the mid-’90s.