“Black motherhood has consistently been a contested space. Black women have just fought for their rights to be. And so when we say Black motherhood, to me, the reality of Black motherhood itself is the resistance. And we still stand and we claim what it means to be Black mothers. We've got to consistently stand firm trying to raise healthy children in spite of it all.” Rev. Dr. Kelly Brown Douglas (Episcopal Divinity School) discusses the gift and grace of Black motherhood to the world and what we can learn from Black mothers about love and resistance. Appreciating the example they set for the meaning of justice that emerges from love, and the capacity for love that emerges from justice, Dr. Douglas offers beautiful examples and expressions of the joy and abundance that Black motherhood means. She reflects on the impact of her maternal grandmother on her life; the Langston Hughes poem “Mother and Son”—which is a testimony of perseverance and robust agency; the glorious hush harbor sermon and ode to self-love and dignity, delivered by Baby Suggs Holy, known as “The Sermon in the Clearing" in Toni Morrison’s Beloved. It gave me chills to hear Dr. Douglas read the sermon. She looks back to the example set by Mamie Till, the mother of Emmitt Till, who as a 14 year old boy was lynched in 1955. And Dr. Douglas speaks in witness to the fear, pain, and grief of the Black mother during the Black Lives Matter era, drawing not only on her expertise in Womanist Theology, but her close relationship with her own son.
“Black motherhood has consistently been a contested space. Black women have just fought for their rights to be. And so when we say Black motherhood, to me, the reality of Black motherhood itself is the resistance. And we still stand and we claim what it means to be Black mothers. We've got to consistently stand firm trying to raise healthy children in spite of it all.”
Rev. Dr. Kelly Brown Douglas (Episcopal Divinity School) discusses the gift and grace of Black motherhood to the world and what we can learn from Black mothers about love and resistance. Appreciating the example they set for the meaning of justice that emerges from love, and the capacity for love that emerges from justice, Dr. Douglas offers beautiful examples and expressions of the joy and abundance that Black motherhood means.
She reflects on the impact of her maternal grandmother on her life; the Langston Hughes poem “Mother and Son”—which is a testimony of perseverance and robust agency; the glorious hush harbor sermon and ode to self-love and dignity, delivered by Baby Suggs Holy, known as “The Sermon in the Clearing" in Toni Morrison’s Beloved. It gave me chills to hear Dr. Douglas read the sermon. She looks back to the example set by Mamie Till, the mother of Emmitt Till, who as a 14 year old boy was lynched in 1955. And Dr. Douglas speaks in witness to the fear, pain, and grief of the Black mother during the Black Lives Matter era, drawing not only on her expertise in Womanist Theology, but her close relationship with her own son.
“The Sermon in the Clearing”
Toni Morrison’s Beloved
“Here,” she said, “in this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in the grass. Love it. Love it hard. Yonder they do not love your flesh. They despise it. They don’t love your eyes; they’d just as soon pick em out. No more do they love the skin on your back. Yonder they flay it. And O my people they do not love your hands. Those they only use, tie, bind, chop off and leave empty. Love your hands! Love them. Raise them up and kiss them. Touch others with them, pat them together, stroke them on your face ’cause they don’t love that either. You got to love it, you*! And no, they ain’t in love with your mouth. Yonder, out there, they will see it broken and break it again. What you say out of it they will not heed. What you scream from it they do not hear. What you put into it to nourish your body they will snatch away and give you leavins instead. No, they don’t love your* mouth. You got to love it. This is flesh I’m talking about here. Flesh that needs to be loved. Feet that need to rest and to dance; backs that need support; shoulders that need arms, strong arms I’m telling you. And O my people, out yonder, hear me, they do not love your neck unnoosed and straight. So love your neck; put a hand on it, grace it, stroke it, and hold it up. And all your inside parts that they’d just as soon slop for hogs, you got to love them. The dark, dark liver—love it, love it, and the beat and beating heart, love that too. More than eyes or feet. More than lungs that have yet to draw free air. More than your life-holding womb and your life-giving private parts, hear me now, love your heart. For this is the prize.” Saying no more, she stood up then and danced with her twisted hip the rest of what her heart had to say while the others opened their mouths and gave her the music. Long notes held until the four-part harmony was perfect enough for their deeply loved flesh.
Mother to Son
BY LANGSTON HUGHES
Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps
’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now—
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
About Kelly Brown Douglas
The Rev. Dr. Kelly Brown Douglas, Ph.D., is Interim President of the Episcopal Divinity School. From 2017 to 2023, she was Dean of the Episcopal Divinity School at Union Theological Seminary and Professor of Theology. She was named the Bill and Judith Moyers Chair in Theology at Union in November 2019. She also serves as the Canon Theologian at the Washington National Cathedral and Theologian in Residence at Trinity Church Wall Street.
Prior to Union, Douglas served as Professor of Religion at Goucher College where she held the Susan D. Morgan Professorship of Religion and is now Professor Emeritus. Before Goucher, she was Associate Professor of Theology at Howard University School of Divinity (1987-2001) and Assistant Professor of Religion at Edward Waters College (1986-1987). Ordained as an Episcopal priest in 1983, Douglas holds a master’s degree in theology and a Ph.D. in systematic theology from Union.
Douglas is the author of many articles and six books, including Sexuality and the Black Church: A Womanist Perspective, Stand Your Ground: Black Bodies and the Justice of God, and Resurrection Hope: A Future Where Black Lives Matter, which won the 2023 Grawemeyer Award in Religion. Her academic work has focused on womanist theology, sexuality and the Black church.
This transcript was generated automatically and may contain errors.
Evan Rosa: For the Life of the World is a production of the Yale Center for Faith and Culture. Visit us online at faith. yale. edu.
Kelly Brown Douglas: Black women are consistently under attack. We talk about maternal care. Just bringing a black child into the world and the lack of access to maternal care and then fighting for it when you get it and then people not believing you when in fact you are hurting or in pain or need help and assistance. So the first thing that I want to say is that black motherhood has consistently been a contested space.
Black women have just fought for their rights to be. And so when we say Black motherhood, to me, the reality of Black motherhood itself is the resistance. And we still stand and we claim what it means to be Black mothers and that we can say it. We've got to consistently stand firm trying to raise healthy children in spite of it all.
That is an act of resistance. We've just got to consistently take seriously the importance. It's of that intergenerational dialogue that speaks the truth and helps that next generation expand their moral imaginary of what's possible and their moral imaginary of justice. Because if we don't have that intergenerational dialogue that speaks the hard truths and pushes forward an agenda of justice, then we cannot expect the next generation to be any better than our generation or previous generations in enacting a world where all mothers children can be free from anything that does not affirm and respect their sacred humanity.
Evan Rosa: This is For the Life of the World, a podcast about seeking and living a life worthy of our humanity. I'm Evan Rosa with the Yale Center for Faith and Culture. With me today is the Reverend Dr. Kelly Brown Douglas, a womanist theologian. Episcopal priest, and author of several books, including her most recent, Resurrection Hope, A Future Where Black Lives Matter, which won the 2023 Grawemeyer Award in Religion.
She's currently the president of the Episcopal Divinity School, serves as the canon theologian at the Washington National Cathedral, and is theologian in residence at Trinity Church, Wall Street. In this episode, we talk about the gift and grace of Black motherhood to the world. What we can learn from Black mothers about love and resistance.
Appreciating the example they set for the meaning of justice that emerges from love and the capacity for love that emerges from justice. Dr. Douglas offers beautiful examples and expressions of the joy and abundance that Black motherhood means, including the impact of her maternal grandmother on her life, the Langston Hughes poem, Mother and Son, which is a testimony of perseverance and robust agency.
The glorious Hush Harbor Sermon, an ode to self love and dignity, delivered by Baby Shugs Holy, known as the Sermon in the Clearing in Toni Morrison's Beloved, gave me chills to hear Dr. Douglas read this sermon aloud. She looks back to the example set by Mamie Till, the mother of Emmett Till, who as a 14 year old boy was lynched in 1955.
And Dr. Douglas speaks in witness to the fear, pain, and grief of the Black mother during the Black Lives Matter era, drawing not only on her expertise in womanist theology, but her close relationship with her own son. Thanks for listening today.
Dr. Douglas, it is such a pleasure to have you on For the Life of the World. Thank you for joining me today. Thank you. The pleasure's all mine. I brought you on because I wanted to talk about the concept of Black motherhood and your experience and scholarship in womanist theology offers this really unique window into, I think, the deep relevance and the importance of listening to the experience of Black motherhood and what we can learn from that.
These individuals today about what it means to flourish and what it means to, in particular, I would say love and resist at the same time. This is a statement I learned from you, but it's a statement of Audre Lorde. And that's kind of where I wanted to start. What does that mean to love and resist at the same time?
Kelly Brown Douglas: Yeah, you know, and particularly as you put that in the context of Black motherhood and I think of sort of this legacy and I think of my own mother and then that legacy passed down from her to me to now what it means for me to be a mother in relationship to my child. And what that is to find ways to love and affirm yourself.
At the same time, that means resisting those narratives, resisting those things out there that are consistently telling you that you are not a sacred child of God, that are consistently telling you that your life has no value, that are consistently telling you that you are less than. And so, one aspect, it seems to me, that is central.
to what it has been throughout history of, if we can say, Black motherhood, of what it means to raise our Black children, or finding ways to help them to understand that they are indeed somebody, and it is that love of self that helps them to resist those other narratives that would suggest otherwise. So they go together.
Evan Rosa: Absolutely. Let's unpack a little bit more first on the love side, then on the resistance side, where have you been inspired by other womanist scholars? And by other sources in the Christian tradition or beyond for really strengthening the kind of love that you're describing here.
Kelly Brown Douglas: Yeah. Boy, there's such a long legacy, right?
When you talk about where I've been inspired, one, I've been inspired by the women in my life. You know, I've been inspired by, and I've written about her on many occasion, my maternal grandmother, who moved up from Georgia during the times of what we've come to know as the great migrations. It's always interesting because the people that were migrating didn't think of it as that, but they were part of a movement in which Black people were moving from the South, moving away from something, and sort of the push and the pull, right, of the migrations, moving away from that which threatened their lives and their families lives, try moving towards something that offered them more hope for a better future.
My grandmother was part of that movement, eventually landing in Columbus, Ohio. And all the times in which I knew my grandmother, she worked as an elevator operator in the main post office in Columbus, Ohio. And Those types of people listening now, younger people listening now, like elevator operator. We just push a button and the elevator comes, but there was a time where you rang a bell, right?
And someone had to bring the elevator to you, the elevator operator, and that was often a job. For black women sitting inside the elevators on this little stool and they'd open the little gates and they'd bring the elevator to you. My grandmother was one of those elevator operators. We used to think that was a neat job, not recognizing you're sitting inside of a very close quarters for eight hours a day, just up and down, bringing the elevator to people.
Not to speak of what insult she perhaps had to endure, but she did that job. I know she had little more than a sixth grade education, always struggling, very poor, but she always made a way for her grandchildren, that would be me and my three siblings, to have fun when we visited her. And most importantly, she would set aside money for her children.
from her meager paycheck. She would set this money aside that she wanted her grandchildren to have when they finished high school. That was her dream, for the four of us to finish high school. To me, This is a testament of Black love. This is a testament of Black mother's love. And she always, always, always made us feel important.
And I carried that with me because, you know, it is to her. that I'm accountable. She didn't get to even go to high school, but she dreamt in a way in which she could provide it a way for her grandchildren to go beyond what she was able to do. Always making us un feel like we could and providing from her little salary a way for her to do that.
Unfortunately, she did not live long enough to see us even get to high school, let alone finish high school. She died young of a brain aneurysm. And of course, all of my siblings, we've exceeded that expectation of hers. She's my model.
Evan Rosa: That expression of hope that goes beyond one's own generation.
Kelly Brown Douglas: That's exactly right, Evan.
You struggle for the children that you can't see.
Evan Rosa: Yeah. Yeah. You talk about this kind of intergenerational love, and I still want to camp out on that love side of Black motherhood. And you've written about intergenerational dialogue, about communication, and that's what I'm going to talk about. Tell me a little bit about how you see love expressed through honest, truthful, wise communication.
Kelly Brown Douglas: Yeah, and that's a part of the love, right? And, and a part of the resistance, telling the story, the hard truth of what it means. to be a black child navigating a world that doesn't affirm your humanity. And you tell that story, but at the same time you tell that story, you tell the truth of how we've survived and the long way in which we've come.
And I think of two things and I'll talk about my own relationship in this regard, that dialogue with my own son. But, you know, I always think of the, sermon that is in Beloved, off quoted sermon now, right, by Baby Shugs Holy, and one would say, wow, how did that sermon become so, sort of, lifted up and off quoted, and it's because it spoke a truth.
Evan Rosa: Would you mind quoting it and kind of giving some context for any listeners that are not familiar with that sermon? Yeah, yeah.
Kelly Brown Douglas: And so it's the sermon of Baby Suggs, only one of the main protagonists, of course, and the story of Beloved by Toni Morrison, again, which is a sort of in the clearing, as they say, and it sort of reminds you of those, those Times we read about during enslavement where the enslaved people would meet in the hush harbors, and that's where their faith was crafted.
And so she's there in the clearing with a sort of a group of enslaved people, and it's a sermon on love. It's a sermon on self love. And she says, you know, at each body part, you know, she says, love your neck, right? Because them out there don't love your neck. They want to see it noosed, love your neck. And she says, love your inside parts, you know, because them out there, they don't love your inside parts.
And you know, just love yourself because them out there won't love it. And so this is the Sermon in the Clearing by Baby Shugs Holy. Here she said, in this here place we flesh. Flesh that weeps, laughs. Flesh that dances on bare feet in the grass. Love it. Love it hard. Yonder they do not love your flesh.
They despise it. They don't love your eyes. They just as soon pick them out. No more do they love the skin on your back. Yonder they flay it. And oh, my people, they do not love your hands, those they only use, tie, bind, chop off and leave empty. Love your hands, love them, raise them up and kiss them, touch others with them, pat them together, stroke them on your face, cause they don't love that either.
You got to love it, you, and no, they ain't in love with your mouth. Yonder out there, they will see it broken and break it again. What you say out of it, they will not heed. What you scream from it, they do not hear. What you put into it to nourish your body, they will snatch away and give you leavings instead.
No, they don't love your mouth. You got to love it. This is flesh I'm talking about here. Flesh that needs to be loved. Feet that need to rest and to dance, backs that need support, shoulders that need arms, strong arms, I'm telling you. And all my people out yonder, hear me, they do not love your neck unnoosed and straight.
So love your net, put a hand on it, grace it, stroke it, and hold it. And all your inside parts that they just assumed slop for hogs, you've got to love them. The dark, dark liver. Love it. Love it. And the beating, beating heart. Love that too. More than eyes or feet. More than lungs that have yet to draw free air.
More than your life holding womb and your life giving private parts. Hear me now. Love your heart. For this is the prize. Say no more. She stood up then and danced with her twisted hip, the rest of what her heart had to say, while the others opened their mouth and gave her the music. Long notes held until the four part harmony was perfect enough for their deeply loved.
Flesh.
Now that says it all. All it wants. The love and the resistance, right? That sermon, it hit home because it's the heart. It's the heart of what it means to parent Black. And it's that dialogue. Help them to learn and look what's in that sermon. The love and the harsh reality, right? The love and the truth. Why do you gotta love yourself?
Because they want your neck strung on. Why do you got to love your inside parts? Because they're going to hang your inside parts up as souvenirs, right? That's what lynching is all about. And so you, that's right in there is this dialogue, this intergenerational dialogue, speaking the hard truth while also providing the foundation for one to survive.
And I think about having the dialogues with my own now adult son, now 30. But Those dialogues became the foundation over a seven year period, I used dialogues that my son and I had with each other that became the foundation of my book, Resurrection Hope, in which he would ask me the sort of hard questions, not the least of which he asked me, do you ever really think there will be a time when black lives matter?
Right? And, you know, that, you know, in those times, I'll never forget when Philandro Castile was murdered in his car by the police who stopped him. And Castile did everything that he was supposed to do. And my son said, well, you know, he had his hands on the steering wheel, did everything else that you always tell me to do.
And he's still dead. So what next? These are the dialogues that you cannot shy away from when you're trying to raise a black child, that you have to have, that you tell the truth, you provide them the tools for surviving, those sort of practical tools, and at the same time, you have to provide them with the inside stuff that allows them to resist the All of that stuff on the outside that tells them that they aren't worth it and they can resist that.
Or let me put it this way, if they can't resist that, then they become casualties of this sort of anti Black reality. And so you want to give them the tools so that they can resist and then thrive and push forward. And so to me, when you talk about these dialogues, these intergenerational dialogues, that's just a part of what it means.
To parent, you know, and during Black Lives Matter and all the racial wrestling and white society was coming to knowledge, but suddenly becoming knowledgeable of the fact of the conversation that black parents have to have with their kids, particularly black parents that have to have with their black sons.
And it's like, We never thought of it as the conversation. It is a part of what it means to raise a Black child in this society. That intergenerational dialogue is essential. And I'll say one last thing on that, and I think of Langston Hughes poem. It captures it. That poem, Mother, Mother. to son, right? Life for me ain't been no crystal stairs.
But he says, but I kept going on. And that's a poem I know in my black church, my black official congregation church, when my son was growing up. That's a poem that I think every black child learns in their black church setting.
This is Langston Hughes poem, Mother to Son. Well, son, I'll tell you. Life for me ain't been no crystal stairs. It's had tacks in it and splinters and boards torn up and places with no carpet on the floor, bare. But all the time, I's been a climbing on and reaching landings and turning corners and sometimes going in the dark where there ain't been no light.
So boy, don't you turn back. Don't you set down on the steps because you find it kind of hard. Don't you fall now, for I's still goin honey, I's still climbin and life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
Evan Rosa: That's deeply powerful. It really is. It's getting me right now.
Kelly Brown Douglas: Says it all.
Evan Rosa: It's so beautiful. Mother to son, this passing on of love.
I think what I'm curious about is how you see the possibility of Black motherhood passing on this love, which is resistance. Dual side of what that is. Kind of this paradox, holding them both together. How that might speak not just to the son, but to, to the world.
Kelly Brown Douglas: Oh, yeah. Yep. First, let me say, if I can, that this takes on even more meaning when Black motherhood itself has consistently been attacked and contested.
It's not been easy to be a Black mother. Black mothers, of course, have been accused of being the seed of pathology in the Black community, made most known through Moynihan in the 1960s, right? Black mothers have not been given the support, the wherewithal to even be able. To be mothers and to raise their children, Black women are consistently under attack.
We talk about maternal care, just bringing a Black child into the world, and the lack of access to maternal care, and then fighting for it when you get it, and then people not believing you when, in fact, you are, you know, hurting or in pain or need help and assistance. So the first thing that I want to say is that Black motherhood has consistently been a contested space.
Black women have just fought for their rights to be. And so when we say Black motherhood, to me, the reality of Black motherhood itself is the resistance. And we still stand and we claim what it means to be black mothers and that we consistently stand firm trying to raise healthy children in spite of it all, that is an act of resistance.
We've just got to consistently take seriously the importance of that intergenerational dialogue. that speaks the truth and helps that next generation expand their moral imaginary of what's possible and their moral imaginary of justice. Because if we don't have that intergenerational dialogue that speaks the hard truths and pushes forward an agenda of justice, then we cannot expect the next generation to be any better than our generation or previous generations in enacting a world where all.
All mothers, children can be free from anything that does not affirm and respect their sacred humanity.
Evan Rosa: That's so beautifully put. Thank you. I think there's this need to acknowledge the suffering and acknowledge the pain black mothers have had to undergo at the hands of racism and anti Blackness. One of the more, I mean, I would say iconic, and I mean that in the most uplifting possible way, as one would venerate an icon.
And that would be Mamie Till demanding the open casket of her lynched 14 year old boy, Emmett Till, in 1955. And that expression of, um, gazing upon the suffering of the Black mother in taking it on her shoulders. But wanting, wanting the eyes to gaze upon that.
Kelly Brown Douglas: As I think of Mamie Till and that open casket, and I think you're right, first of all, that we see her pain and her suffering.
And somehow people forget that the Emmett Tills, the Trayvon Martins, the Tamir Rices, the Breonna Taylors, these were somebody's children. So there's some mother whose child that is. And we don't relate to these Black human beings as somebody's children. I think that Mamie Till won in that moment, tried to humanize her son.
She's a mother who's lost her son. And if you make that connection, then perhaps you can be horrified. by what happened to her son. Some level of empathy, but somehow we have lost our empathetic capacity when we see Black bodies, but not Black human beings. And so I think Mamie Till, that moment brings all of that forward.
I, you know, and I think of, I will never forget a conversation and. I had a great interview that I had with Trayvon Martin's parents, his mother and father, and it was at the release of the book that they did, Rest in Peace, Rest in Power, on Trayvon. And I was invited to have a conversation with them on that book release.
And oh my goodness, I, So humbled to be in their company and strengthened by their company. And I remember Trayvon Martin's father saying that he thought by the time this went, the perpetrator, the murderer of Trayvon went to trial. He thought that the jurors who were, as you will recall, were six women would see that when Sabrina Fulton, Trayvon's mother, was brought to testify that these women would connect with this mother and would see that Trayvon was this mother's son and connect, but they didn't, and in fact they attacked her as not being a good mother, and we That's why we're here.
Saw those attacks not only in that trial, but throughout as people characterize Trayvon as this sort of beast. That's the legacy of Emmett Till and other black children who have been lynched. That's the legacy. of Mamie Till, this attack of black motherhood, but these mothers, they aren't defending themselves as mothers.
They're defending their children and trying to make the connection between who they are as mothers having lost these children.
Evan Rosa: Dr. Douglas, thank you so much for your work in womanist theology, your ministry, and everything that you're bringing in. these comments on black motherhood today.
Kelly Brown Douglas: Thank you.
Evan Rosa: For the Life of the World is a production of the Yale Center for Faith and Culture at Yale Divinity School. This episode featured the Reverend Dr. Kelly Brown Douglas, production assistants by Kacie Barrett and Alexa Rollow. I'm Evan Rosa and I edit and produce the show. For more information, visit us online at faith. yale. edu where you can find past episodes, articles, books, and other educational resources that help people envision and pursue lives worthy of our humanity.
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