Minnie Bruce Pratt (b. September 12, 1946 in Selma, Alabama) is an U.S. educator, activist, and award-winning poet, essayist, and theorist. Pratt was born in Selma, Alabama, grew up in Centreville, Alabama and graduated with an honors B.A. from the University of Alabama (1968) and a Ph.D. in English literature from the University of North Carolina (1979). She is a Professor of Writing and Women’s Studies at Syracuse University where she was invited to help develop the university’s first Lesbian/Gay/Bisexual/Transgender Study Program. She emerged out of the women’s liberation movement in the 1970s and 1980s and has written extensively about race, class, gender and sexual theory. Pratt, along with lesbian writers Chrystos and Audre Lorde, received a Lillian Hellman-Dashiell Hammett award from the Fund for Free Expression to writers "who have been victimized by political persecution." Pratt, Chrystos and Lorde were chosen because their experience as "a target of right-wing and fundamentalist forces during the recent attacks on the National Endowment for the Arts."[1] Her political affiliations include the International Action Center, the National Women's Fightback Network, and the National Writers Union. She is a contributing editor to Workers World newspaper. Pratt's partner is author and activist Leslie Feinberg. [from Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minnie_B...]
I first read Minnie Bruce Pratt's "Identity: Skin, Blood, Heart" in the textbook for my Feminist Theory class in 2012. It was the assigned reading accompanying our discussions on intersectionality, which felt then like a groundbreaking concept, one that certainly cracked my mind open. I've wanted to revisit that essay since I saw that Pratt died earlier this year. What surprised me most is just how well the essays in this collection have aged--how unfortunately still relevant they feel. It was especially jarring to read "The Maps in my Bible," which I read, by coincidence, the same day I finished Ken Burns's documentary, "The US and the Holocaust" and think about how both pieces echo one another. And of course, this piece still feels timely--and challenging-- in light of the heightened violence in the Middle East.
While my one criticism of this book is its tendency to present sexuality and gender identity as existing within a binary, this is a classic feminist and lesbian book. It's a bit dismaying to see how few reviews it has on Goodreads. This is a book I recommend reading slowly--putting it down and picking it up over time--to truly get the most from Pratt's prose.