Beth E. Brant (Indian: Degonwadonti) (born 1941 Melvindale, Michigan or in the Tyendinaga reservation in Ontario) is a Mohawk writer. She is known as a theorist ("writing as witness") who has had a profound effect on literary activism in the Americas, as the producer of a substantial body of work in short fiction, nonfiction and poetry, and as editor of groundbreaking anthologies.
First published in 1984, this was the first anthology to focus on contemporary Native American women writers. Initially, I was surprised that it doesn't include "big names" like Louise Erdrich or Leslie Marmon Silko. But now I see the value of exposing readers to other writers who aren't so well-known. Two particular communities that have voices here are lesbians and incarcerated women. Issues of personal identity, alcoholism, love of family, domestic violence, and racism come up frequently among many of the contributors, regardless of their background. Does a terrific job of capturing the concerns of Native women during the 1970s and early 1980s. A must-read for grad students in NAS or women's studies.
It comes down to this. I believe in each and every Indian woman whose words and pictures lie between the pages of this book. Some hands are comfortable with a typewriter, with a pen. Some hands have only just begun to touch paper and pencil without fear. Our hands are strong. We make baskets, lift heavy machinery, bead earrings, soothe our lovers - female or male - hold our elders. We braid our hair. These hands fight back. We use our fists, our pens, our paints, our cameras. We drive the trucks to the demonstrations, we tie the sashes of our children, dancing for the first time in the circle of the drum. We weave the blankets. We keep us a culture. Our hands live and work in the present, while pulling on the past. It is impossible for us to not do both. - Beth Brant
It's a collection, so it's a bit uneven, but the good pieces are very good. Usually I sell books three stars and under, but this one I'm keeping for the good pieces.
3.5 stars I found the anthology a bit uneven in quality, some peices were excellent and potentially usefull for future teaching purposes, others not so much.
Brant writes, for the introduction, “our hands live and work in the present, while pulling on the past” (12). Her introduction, in general, implicitly argues for the value of these sorts of anthologies as felt acts of articulation, threaded together as they are from passed mail parcels sent zagging across distinct regions and scattered addresses. Taking together, these experiments in voiced community illustrate an embodied struggle towards historical, particular consciousness, and, preserved for readers today, coheres as something like a familiar echo. There are stories, essays, poems, letters and multiple forms of visual art collected. Much like This Bridge Called My Back, it can be quite interesting to see how many of these voices would grow in stature through the late 80s and 90s. Each contributor adds, in their own way, to this representation of Indigenous feminist discourse being spoken across creative forms. Some of my favorite pieces include Paula Gunn Allen’s “The One Who Skins Cats,” Charlotte DeClue’s “To the Spirit of Monahsetah,” Marilou Awiakta’s “Amazons in Appalachia,” Mary TallMountain’s “My Wild Birds Flying,” Max Wolf [presented in the publication as Anita] Valerio’s “I Am Listening: A Lyric of Roots,” and, finally, everything by Wendy Rose, who is a supreme poet!
What a beautiful anthology of poetry, short stories, memoirs, and letters. So many of these pieces have found a place in my heart and I think of them often. Beth Brant's introduction is wonderful —I love how she combines humor, community, sadness, anger, and activism. If you see this book, read it!