Jana

“Then: “Where’s my manners? I hope you get to feeling pert soon, ma’am. I miss seeing my bonny Picasso.” He grinned. I stared at him blankly, and he added, “Picasso’s painting of the pretty blue lady, the Woman with a Helmet of Hair that I’d seen in one of the magazines you brought us? You remind me of her. Your fine color. My woman always said God saved that best color for His home.” He pointed a finger up to a patch of blue sky parting the gray clouds. “Guess He must’ve had Himself a little left over.” Astonished, I could feel my face warm. No one, not a soul, ever said my old color was fine. The best.”
― Kim Michele Richardson, The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek

“I never understood why other people thought my color, any color, needed fixing.”
― Kim Michele Richardson, The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek

“[Y]et, I wondered why Marshall did not at least attempt a kiss. In many ways, his treatment of me reminded me of the way I had behaved toward the doll that Mamma Mae had given me as a child. I favored it so that I had refused myself of the joy of playing with it, daring to love it only with my eyes. But in doing so, I had denied myself its very purpose.”
― Kathleen Grissom, The Kitchen House

“I had no right telling you how you should feel. No right claiming knowledge on things I could and will never feel. I've never known harm or exile because of my skin. Nor felt the lash of leather whips or angry tongues because of it.”
― Kim Michele Richardson, The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek