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M Quotes

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All M Quotes

“My grandmother and my two aunts were an exhibition in resilience and resourcefulness and black womanhood. They rarely talked about the unfairness of the world with the words that I use now with my social justice friends, words like "intersectionality" and "equality", "oppression", and "discrimination". They didn't discuss those things because they were too busy living it, navigating it, surviving it.”

“My grandmother did not come to see me till a month after my birth. I was born seven years after my only sister and my birth was a big disappointment for her. In it there is a message that I understand very well now about the discrimination against the girl child. My uncles and other relatives are against encouraging girls. My parents are more open. They back me all the way.”

“My grandmother didn't live to see us begin our lives in public service. But she probably would have thought it extraordinary that just two generations after she arrived in San Antonio, one grandson would be the mayor and the other would be on his way - the good people of San Antonio willing- to the United States Congress.”

“My grandmother flew only once in her life, and that was the day she and her new husband ascended into the skies of Victorian London in the wicker basket of a hot-air balloon. They were soon to emigrate to Canada, and the aerial ride was meant to be a last view of their beloved England.”

“My grandmother had a picture of herself as a close-lipped, silent, reserved individual without curiosity, who never asked personal questions. Actually, of course, she was a talkative, jolly, interminably curious woman, who loved people, and who enjoyed the personal details of their lives almost as much as they did themselves.”

“My grandmother instilled in me a toughness that comes with survival. She was a tough lady and never truly enjoyed her life. She would always worry about things and I would tell her that it wasn't going to get her anywhere and it didn't. I wasn't even that smart back then, but I knew that worrying about everyone else wasn't good for her health. As Latinos, we stress and worry so much about the future when the future is today. As long as we protect what's good in our lives, we will be all right.”

“My grandmother lived a remarkable life. She watched her nation fall to pieces; and even when she became collateral damage, she believed in the power of the human spirit. She gave when she had nothing; she fought when she could barely stand; she clung to tomorrow when she couldn’t find footing on the rock ledge of yesterday. She was a chameleon, slipping into the personae of a privileged young girl, a frightened teen, a dreamy novelist, a proud prisoner, an army wife, a mother hen. She became whomever she needed to be to survive, but she never let anyone else define her. By anyone’s account, her existence had been full, rich, important—even if she chose not to shout about her past, but rather to keep it hidden. It had been nobody’s business but her own; it was still nobody’s business.”

“My grandmother lived in a universe filled with life. It was impossible for her to conceive of any creature - even the smallest insect, let alone a human being - as insignificant. In every leaf, flower, animal, and star she saw an expression of a compassionate universe, whose laws were not competition and survival of the fittest but cooperation, artistry and thrift. . . .”

“My grandmother lived the latter years of her life in the horrible suspicion that electricity was dripping invisibly all over the house. It leaked, she contended, out of empty sockets if the wall switch had been left on. She would go around screwing in bulbs, and if they lighted up, she would fearfully turn off the wall switch and go back to her Pearson's or Everybody's, happy in the satisfaction that she had stopped not only a costly but dangerous leakage. nothing could ever clear this up for her.”

“My grandmother, mother, and godmothers were all African-American Christian women. Some married, one widowed, some single mothers. And those who were not family members intervened and advocated for me when my mother and I could not do so. The legacy of godly womanhood I’ve inherited has taught me that the Bible is meant for more than studies. The Bible is meant to be lived out, and the gospel is a way of living and becoming.”

“My grandmother prayed on her knees until she couldn’t. And sitting hunched over in her wheelchair in the waning hours of her life, she would say that her heart was always on its knees even though the ability of her body to do so had long passed. And as long as I am able, both my body and my heart will remain on their knees because that is the only way that my soul is able to stand on its feet.”

“My grandmother’s unkindness, for instance, was the result of repressed grief over three deaths: her parents, before she was twelve, and her firstborn child. I don’t recall ever seeing her smile. She was critical of everything and everyone. Table manners, posture, diction, wardrobe. My aunt, her mother’s staunchest defender, often reminded us that my grandmother suffered from accumulated sorrow, bottled up since childhood and cloaked in intellect and intolerance as she grew older. She was never able to grieve fully or mourn the amassed losses, my aunt had said. If we repress our grief, over time, it’s bound to harden the heart.”