From my favorite iPad magazine app, Zite, I frequently read articles from io9.com. They are a site “that covers science, science fiction and the future” basically the types of things that interest me. I came upon an article,
that spoke directly to the fiction writer in me. Early in the article the author, Jess Nevins uses the word exhaustiveness. It is a word that makes me weary just reading it, but it also speaks to what I’ve known for most of my adult life. I cannot give a full accounting of my past. There’s no documentation telling me how far back my lineage goes. I suspect there are some black women born in the U.S. that can trace things pretty far back. I’m just not one of them. My mother and father had no recollection (I asked.) of previous generations who were enslaved, though there surely must have been. After all I am a black woman born in the U.S. to black parents born in the U.S. Someone in my family was enslaved.
For as long as I can remember the world of science and fiction has fascinated me. So much so I began making up worlds in the bathroom of my grammar school. While other kids looked up at the sky and saw shapes in the clouds I was in the bathroom shaping stories from the paint drippings on the huge windows.
I told stories to anyone who would listen. So when I wonder about why I can make up a world easier than exist in the one to which I was born, I know the answer is simple. I don’t have the details. My past is more of a mystery.