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Her
A novel of Detroit in the late fifties and sixties explores the lives of the Black men and women who came north to work at the Ford Motor plant, and the relationships that develop between Black women
220 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1990
About the author
Cherry Muhanji
3 books10 followersCherry Muhanji is the pen name of Jannette Washington (born April 26, 1939 in Detroit, Michigan), an American writer.
She is best known for her novel Her, which won a Ferro-Grumley Award and a Lambda Literary Award in 1991, and the anthology Tight Spaces, which she copublished with Kesho Y. Scott and Egyirba High and which won an American Book Award in 1988. She has also published poetry and short stories in literary magazines and anthologies and is currently working on a memoir.
Muhanji holds a doctorate in English, anthropology and African American World Studies from the University of Iowa. She has taught at various colleges and universities, including the University of Minnesota, Goddard College and Portland State University.
Muhanji's only novel, Her, was released in 1990. It explores the relationships between a community of black women in Detroit.
(from Wikipedia)
She is best known for her novel Her, which won a Ferro-Grumley Award and a Lambda Literary Award in 1991, and the anthology Tight Spaces, which she copublished with Kesho Y. Scott and Egyirba High and which won an American Book Award in 1988. She has also published poetry and short stories in literary magazines and anthologies and is currently working on a memoir.
Muhanji holds a doctorate in English, anthropology and African American World Studies from the University of Iowa. She has taught at various colleges and universities, including the University of Minnesota, Goddard College and Portland State University.
Muhanji's only novel, Her, was released in 1990. It explores the relationships between a community of black women in Detroit.
(from Wikipedia)
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Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews
October 19, 2019
All American whites are from the South.2.5/5
It's difficult to handle in writing the more intense of the grotesqueries that haunt the halls of human history. You see it done well in Morrison and (Gayl) Jones and (Cormac) McCarthy, but more often than not, one feels voyeuristic rather than sympathetic, and the we're-all-in-this-together tone that attempts to tie it all together can come off as sentimentally inadequate for coping with the motions of catharsis that are usually wrapped up in such scenes of horrific tragedy. One review mentions this text attempting to do what Faulkner did without his level of prose, and all I can say to that is, Faulkner is more enjoyable obfuscated than otherwise. With Muhanji, I did very much enjoy certain flashes of queerness, a promise of which was what drew me to acquiring this book in the first place, but certain themes escalated far too quickly and far too near the end for the narrative to hold together. I appreciated the rare view of 60's industrial US that reminded me of nothing so much as Dhalgren, but that book gave itself a great deal of room to stretch in, and I have to wonder what directions Muhanji's writing would have taken had she made use of, or had access too, a similar breath of canvas.
This book was one thing in the beginning, another thing in the middle, and yet another thing at the very end. I liked the middle the most for how closely it adhered to the promise of this edition's cover, but the last twenty pages followed up a bit too hastily and dramatically on the foreshadowing established earlier on. While I do acknowledge the histories of both US slavery and the Euro rise of Nazis, both together in the space of less than 180 pages is a little much if the narrative, surrealistically or otherwise, can't support the process. I don't regret picking this up on a whim (I missed that particular amazing library sale this year ; - ; ), but it's just not a world I have much experience in, and it was hard to engage outside of the brief mentions of suits and Malcolm X. I'm still interested in Aunt Lute, the publisher: anything that specifically focuses on queer women lit is worth pursuing.
So, this wasn't the most successful read under the sun, but I sure wish there was more written in this particular confluence of themes. History is all too often fed to us piecemeal: black people over there, queerness over here, and the only bridge often mediated solely through whiteness and/or cishetness. Even more rare is fiction that draws from such primary sources, and when the writing is good and the experience is rich, it is an invaluable resource for someone like me. The fact that this wasn't a favorite of mien is more indicative of my lack of experience in this work than anything else, and I do hope others read this in order to experience reality in more unique terms than is what usually portrayed in 20th century literature. Regardless of my own personal preferences, this is a worthy addition to Queer History Month in general.
Goodness they questioned. They could never trust it. Evil they understood and made room for...Better to have what you knew, and the Tempter they knew.
February 14, 2025
I am still trying to wrap my head fully around this read. It was intense and fractured, at once surreal and shockingly vivid. There's so much to meditate on around community, place, trauma, and so much more.
December 7, 2011
A very complex book about the women who live on John R Street. It is more about the relationships between these black women and men, whether as friends, family, or lovers it is always very human and very messy.
I read it twice, while taking part in proofreading the new printing, and it has some absolutely delectable prose. There were sentences and passages I could read over and over again, just to experience the taste as they rolled off my tongue.
I read it twice, while taking part in proofreading the new printing, and it has some absolutely delectable prose. There were sentences and passages I could read over and over again, just to experience the taste as they rolled off my tongue.
September 8, 2009
Story of the people who left oppression in the South and moved to Detroit to realize a new life and a new way of being. Author's language is poetic, hard beat musical.
March 19, 2026
In Her, Muhanji has crafted a portrait of a community exactly as vivid as that presented by Leslie Feinberg in Stone Butch Blues. The difference in reception of the two books is huge: whilst Feinberg's creation is often lauded - not undeservedly - as The Great Lesbian Novel, Her remains underappreciated, with just 46 ratings (and an average of 3.70 to SBB's 4.55) on this app. Of course, when you take into account the content of both texts, rather than simply the plot summary, the two books are incredibly different. But the fact remains that Her - a book of great substance, with visceral explorations of queerness and race - though published in 1990, three years before SBB, is not credited as the trailblazer it could have been.
As a Black lesbian, I am constantly searching for The Great Black Lesbian Novel, and - beyond the works of Audre Lorde - the landscape feels barren. I am well aware that I will have to dig deep if I want to find anything to suit my particular tastes. The near-impossibility of a Black lesbian novel being considered on a par with portraits of the white queer community is not lost on me. I know that this is the reason why Her is not mentioned alongside Stone Butch Blues and the reason why it has taken me so long to find out about it.
Going in, I didn't expect this novel to focus on the experiences of mixed-race characters at all, let alone in such a specific, incisive manner. Muhanji explores Kali's feelings around her identity as a mixed-race woman with a depth that I previously wouldn't have believed to be possible. Her portrayal of the mixed-race Black experience, distinct from the monoracial Black experience, reminds me somewhat of my own writing - both my recent fiction and some of my older diary entries. Though I could never and have never passed for white, Kali's story really resonated with me. I didn't realise quite how deeply I related to her until I became frustrated by a review from a white person who misunderstood her experience of race.
The confusion, self-hatred and, above all, frustration laid out in Her is raw and real and nuanced. Biracial Blackness is presented here as it is in real life: a unique, remote and lonely experience largely impenetrable to those who have not lived it. I would recommend Her to every mixed-race Black woman if I could.
That said, I cannot in good conscience rate this any higher, nor can I present this as The Great Black Lesbian Novel. Muhanji tries, as I am sure many others have tried before her, to present the mixed-race experience as a distinct entity with nothing overshadowing it. Unfortunately, whilst a worthy task, it is a difficult one, and Her falls at times into colourism by appearing to suggest that lighter-skinned mixed women bear the brunt of racism simply because, for us, it comes from both sides.
In my opinion, the novel's exploration of race is deft during the first 100 pages - highlighting the ways in which Black men contribute to colourism against Black women - and visceral throughout. However, it trips itself up towards the end by centring Kali's experience in a way that allows her to direct her rage at darker-skinned monoracial Black women rather than at the system which marginalises all of them. Ironically, this is presented as a moment of togetherness for all of the Black women in the neighbourhood.
How would I handle this if I had written Her? I'm not sure. Of course, we as mixed people are entitled to our rage, and alienation stings most coming from people who should be our allies, but our self-expression shouldn't come at the expense of anyone who doesn't truly deserve our anger.
Despite this, I would still recommend Her to anyone who is interested in it. It is saturated with meaning; it contains so much substance in under 200 pages. I would be doing the novel a disservice if I presented it as an exclusively mixed-race story. Monoracial Black women are centred here, as, in turn, are Black men. Lesbian culture is celebrated; the experiences of gay men are explored. It is, above all, a portrait of a community. The good parts are really, really good and so much of what Muhanji says here is worth listening to. It's just a shame that we have to separate the wheat from the chaff.
As a Black lesbian, I am constantly searching for The Great Black Lesbian Novel, and - beyond the works of Audre Lorde - the landscape feels barren. I am well aware that I will have to dig deep if I want to find anything to suit my particular tastes. The near-impossibility of a Black lesbian novel being considered on a par with portraits of the white queer community is not lost on me. I know that this is the reason why Her is not mentioned alongside Stone Butch Blues and the reason why it has taken me so long to find out about it.
Going in, I didn't expect this novel to focus on the experiences of mixed-race characters at all, let alone in such a specific, incisive manner. Muhanji explores Kali's feelings around her identity as a mixed-race woman with a depth that I previously wouldn't have believed to be possible. Her portrayal of the mixed-race Black experience, distinct from the monoracial Black experience, reminds me somewhat of my own writing - both my recent fiction and some of my older diary entries. Though I could never and have never passed for white, Kali's story really resonated with me. I didn't realise quite how deeply I related to her until I became frustrated by a review from a white person who misunderstood her experience of race.
The confusion, self-hatred and, above all, frustration laid out in Her is raw and real and nuanced. Biracial Blackness is presented here as it is in real life: a unique, remote and lonely experience largely impenetrable to those who have not lived it. I would recommend Her to every mixed-race Black woman if I could.
That said, I cannot in good conscience rate this any higher, nor can I present this as The Great Black Lesbian Novel. Muhanji tries, as I am sure many others have tried before her, to present the mixed-race experience as a distinct entity with nothing overshadowing it. Unfortunately, whilst a worthy task, it is a difficult one, and Her falls at times into colourism by appearing to suggest that lighter-skinned mixed women bear the brunt of racism simply because, for us, it comes from both sides.
In my opinion, the novel's exploration of race is deft during the first 100 pages - highlighting the ways in which Black men contribute to colourism against Black women - and visceral throughout. However, it trips itself up towards the end by centring Kali's experience in a way that allows her to direct her rage at darker-skinned monoracial Black women rather than at the system which marginalises all of them. Ironically, this is presented as a moment of togetherness for all of the Black women in the neighbourhood.
How would I handle this if I had written Her? I'm not sure. Of course, we as mixed people are entitled to our rage, and alienation stings most coming from people who should be our allies, but our self-expression shouldn't come at the expense of anyone who doesn't truly deserve our anger.
Despite this, I would still recommend Her to anyone who is interested in it. It is saturated with meaning; it contains so much substance in under 200 pages. I would be doing the novel a disservice if I presented it as an exclusively mixed-race story. Monoracial Black women are centred here, as, in turn, are Black men. Lesbian culture is celebrated; the experiences of gay men are explored. It is, above all, a portrait of a community. The good parts are really, really good and so much of what Muhanji says here is worth listening to. It's just a shame that we have to separate the wheat from the chaff.
July 28, 2020
FOUR STARS: Pretty sure I'll read this again, if only to hopefully understand it better.
Something of a fever dream, weaving in and out of the lives of the Black men and women living in Detroit city just before the tide of civil rights really hit. It has the same poetic sensibility and loosey-goosey take on linear time as one of my favorites, Revenge of the Mooncake Vixen, but without that book's clear-eyed vision and overall surety of self. It's a fascinating scattershot pattern: so artless as to tempt you to think it needs serious revision, but when you try to think how to distill its essence you realize a lot of its power lies in how much it doesn't care about fitting into expectations.
Weird. Kind of wonderful, though.
EDIT: I failed to mention, because I was still kind of processing, the book's issues with colorism. So I'm in no way in a position to speak with authority on those issues, being white. But after years of reading and listening to BIPOC women's discussions, I can't help but notice Her evokes some of the same trends that garner criticism in these circles. It's clear the book was aiming for a holistic, "we are all of the same tribe regardless of variations in color" message. In practice, though, it feels more uneven. The women we get the most insight into, have the most narrative-guided sympathy for, are the "high yellow" Sunshine/Kali and the easily-mistaken-for-white Wintergreen. Meanwhile the darkest woman of the cast, Charlotte, is Sunshine's bully and Wintergreen's
Something of a fever dream, weaving in and out of the lives of the Black men and women living in Detroit city just before the tide of civil rights really hit. It has the same poetic sensibility and loosey-goosey take on linear time as one of my favorites, Revenge of the Mooncake Vixen, but without that book's clear-eyed vision and overall surety of self. It's a fascinating scattershot pattern: so artless as to tempt you to think it needs serious revision, but when you try to think how to distill its essence you realize a lot of its power lies in how much it doesn't care about fitting into expectations.
Weird. Kind of wonderful, though.
EDIT: I failed to mention, because I was still kind of processing, the book's issues with colorism. So I'm in no way in a position to speak with authority on those issues, being white. But after years of reading and listening to BIPOC women's discussions, I can't help but notice Her evokes some of the same trends that garner criticism in these circles. It's clear the book was aiming for a holistic, "we are all of the same tribe regardless of variations in color" message. In practice, though, it feels more uneven. The women we get the most insight into, have the most narrative-guided sympathy for, are the "high yellow" Sunshine/Kali and the easily-mistaken-for-white Wintergreen. Meanwhile the darkest woman of the cast, Charlotte, is Sunshine's bully and Wintergreen's
September 6, 2017
Prose as poetry.
November 30, 2011
It seemed to me that a novel set in Detroit, with, specifically, recent Black immigrants from the South, was a perfect follow-up to The Warmth of Other Suns, plus, reading about Detroit in the 60's, knowing that Dan was a kid there then, intrigued me. But the book wandered around and was too disjointed. I felt as though I was reading Faulkner w/o the beauty that he brings to his work.
June 22, 2011
I found it hard to work my way into the rhythm of the narrative, but I did, it was worth it.
February 19, 2012
Very good story of a young Black woman in 1950s-1960s Detroit and the community around her. The end is especially gripping.
Want to Read
July 3, 2014Just received a notification that I won this Book!!! So excited and happy can't wait to see it in my mail box!!!
-Review soon!!
-Review soon!!
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March 24, 2017Fiction M952h 1990
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Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews