I grew up on the South Side of Chicago. My family lived in a two-flat in the Englewood area. My grandmother, Big Girl, lived upstairs with a constant rotation of my female cousins who stayed with her for various reasons. My mother, father, sister, and I stayed downstairs. Big Girl gave birth to twelve children—eleven girls (including my mother) and one boy. My father had two sisters and two brothers. I have fond memories of each of my aunties from both sides. Each of them poured into me one way or another.
On my father’s side, Aunt Renee and Aunt Lisa loved taking us on “field trips” and affirming us: my aunt Renee would call my sister Doctor Green and call me Lawyer Green, and my aunt Lisa was (is) a quintessential “hypewoman” who will make you feel like you can do anything. From them, I learned the power of being genuinely excited for others and how prophetic an optimistic outlook can be.
On my mother’s side, I learned so much from watching how my aunts carried themselves. Aunt Annette, Aunt Denise, Aunt Cheri, and Aunt Cathy taught me what freedom looked like. The way they laughed, lived, and brought the party wherever they went showed me the power of having a magnetic personality. Aunt Pam and Aunt Deborah taught me the power of taking yourself seriously. As a child, I thought they were stern, and in turn, I always tried to be on my best behavior at their houses; what I learned was a lesson in how people will act accordingly in your presence depending on how you carry yourself.
Aunt Bertha and Aunt Janet showed me what having a heart looked like. They are two of the most caring and giving people I know. Aunt Melody showed me what mental strength is. She is one of the toughest aunts I have and seeing her continuously triumph teaches me the same lesson in new ways. Aunt Brenda taught me the power of intolerance. I never got the chance to meet her, but her devastating story of being a domestic violence victim always reminded me of what I wouldn’t tolerate from myself—or from the men around me.
My mother and my grandmother were critical to my development growing up. My grandmother was not very verbally sentimental, but she loved me in a way that I could feel hundreds of miles away. She taught me how to love without having to say I love you. My mother showed me what it means to be selfless. There are so many times in my life that I remember my mom putting herself third or fourth just to make sure we knew love, opportunity, or options.
My sister, Mandilyn, and my wife, Charisma, are two of my best friends and also play a large part in that ecosystem of Black women who have taught me how to be. When I first started writing poetry, my sister was one of the first people to tell me I should take it seriously and pursue it—she has shown me what unwavering support looks like. My wife has been one of the most consistent artistic collaborators I have had the honor to work with. She has continued to show up for me in ways that are tangible and ways that are unquantifiable. She has shown me the value of being present.
I have known Black women in very intimate ways for as long as I can remember, and they have taught me and shaped my ideology on the beauty, power, and worth of Black women and life. So many of the educators who have molded my mind have been Black women from preschool to college. I think about these women and how often this is the same case for so many kids, especially those in Black communities, so I truly believe we owe Black women many thank-yous for all that we have become. Black women have given us so much but continue to receive so little. Through Black Roses I am hoping to present some reciprocation.
I want to create emotional equity. Oftentimes when we think about equity, we think about it in financial terms, but I want to explore the idea that those who have had to suffer centuries of not only physical abuse from a nation, but also verbal and mental abuse, deserve not only economic but emotional equity. For an unfathomable amount of time, Black women have been reduced to stereotypes and rarely lauded for their brilliance, character, and contributions as they should. They continue to work hard (oftentimes for lesser pay), lead movements and homes, fight for themselves and everyone else. More than anyone, they deserve a surplus of affirmation and consideration daily. I wrote this book in the hopes of adding to that surplus.
I began writing this project in the fall of 2019. The first subject was Rapsody. I am such a fan of her work and her consistency. Her album Eve had just come out and I couldn’t stop playing it. I wanted to find a way to express to her how much she meant to me and I couldn’t think of any better way than using my gift to say thank you for hers. As soon as I came up with the idea, I knew I wanted to expand on it and tell more Black women who I admired: “Thank you.” This concept felt organic to me because my whole artistic career of writing poetry, plays, and music, and curating live art experiences has been based around giving Flowers for the Living, which, for me, means making sure that people feel loved and affirmed while they are still here. I’m on a mission to wrap people up in my work and make them feel like they have a home there, and proclaiming the multifaceted beauty of Black women is one of my favorite topics because so often they love, support, fight, and care for others without receiving the same in return.
Once Rapsody saw the video of me reciting the poem I wrote for her, she reposted the video and sent me a very heartfelt message. I was so overwhelmed and emotional that someone I respected so much felt honored by my work. Then, Ava DuVernay retweeted the video I posted of my ode to her. I was in the gym when it happened, and I stopped to read the message she wrote. I had tears in my eyes talking to my sister about it. I was barely able to finish my workout.
One Sunday, Tracee Ellis Ross saw the video I posted with her ode and reposted it on her page. I was making breakfast and I stopped, went around the corner, and cried for so many reasons. It was such an emotional moment because I thought that she was never going to see hers and once she did, her reaction inspired me so much and motivated me to continue the project further. Once the idea of Black Roses becoming a book came to fruition, I was determined that this wouldn’t be the last one. I dream of Black Roses being volumes long. I want to continue this work for decades because Black women deserve this emotional equity.
Black Roses: Odes Celebrating Powerful Black Women by Harold Green III. Copyright © 2022 by Harold Green III. Published by Harper Design, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers. Reprinted by permission.
Black Roses is available from Amazon and Bookshop.