Well, it’s the day after Mother’s Day but I know the holiday will be on my mind tonight when she takes the stage at the Carnegie Music Hall in Oakland, Pittsburgh. Pittsburgh – a place where Black moms have so much to contend with from conception through child rearing. And a place where this Black daughter still has so many questions about how I might have done a better job of protecting my own mom from the many stressors that claimed her life almost 8 years ago to the day. Ward’s latest book was an amazing exercise in understanding that grief through the historical imaginary of one girl’s journey through enslavement propelled by spirits and ancestral calling.
There are sure to be so many great conversations around this book. Let Us Descend is a fireworks display of Ward’s incredibly expert craft. The two-time National Book Award winner calls forward the deep relationship that Black people in the wake of the transatlantic slave trade have with loss and the exhausting necessity of resilience. Ward connects the spiritual exploration of faith in the revered Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri to the experiences of slavery in the United States where Dante’s tale of levels of inferno, the monsters a soul could meet on that journey, and the contemplation of freedom it necessitates has a strong analog.
For readers in Pittsburgh, this book can and should cause reflection on Black womanhood and what it takes to live free. Of course, there are many reports and narratives that explain what Black women here face now. And some that celebrate what Black communities here have done to forge liberation. From Tammy Thompson at Catapult Greater Pittsburgh to Ciora Thomas at Sisters Pittsburgh to Summer Lee in D.C., we know Black women here are committed to freedom and leading the way to it. This book is a reminder that this work has a legacy. That this work has ancestors. As Jesmyn Ward graces the stage of the recently reopened Carnegie Music Hall on this day after Mothers’ Day, Pittsburgh literati will be captivated by this work and its clear homage to the fire of spirit it took to survive.
Annis, the main character of the novel, is a girl walking with her foremothers through the hell of slavery and layers of violence in which she has to constantly fight for the autonomy of her body and her mind. In conversations with warrior ancestors and spiritual guides, Annis awakens herself to the discoveries of choice and pleasure. She is flinging herself toward this conceptualization of freedom in spite of the terror and fear instilled in her by slavery’s mires of rape, solitary confinement and other abuses. She is desperate to confirm the whereabouts and well being of friends and family. Annis’ story is one that pushes us to think about what freedom is in spite of those terrors and fears. Ward layers the story with rich emotional nuance, romance that defies heteronormative constraints, and a remembrance of Africa in the customs and lessons that show up for her descendants. There is also the important recognition that the experience of slavery in the United States is not a monolith. The horror took on different tones in different locations and the resistance from marooning to outright rebellion was also exceptionally diverse. Annis learns all of this as she steadies herself through survival and looks to carve out her own resistance.
Pittsburgh has records of many ancestors who did the same. Some we can glimpse in the county’s deed records where we find decades of folks going on record proclaiming their freedom. Others are documented in the pages of the Gazette as enslavers sought to capture people. One is a story of a girl who may have been a lot like Annis. Priss was a 15 year old girl who ran from an enslaver in Canonsburg. The man took out an ad in the local newspaper to capture her. He described Priss as “proud” and “haughty” and added that she may have been traveling toward Raccoon Creek to join her sister. We may never know what became of Priss and whether she found her sister in that lush Pennsylvania countryside. But with Ward’s work, we can feel love for Priss and countless others like her. We can honor them. We can acknowledge the descent and hell of slavery, marvel at the miracle of Black existence today and reckon with the immense sacrifice and loss it took to get here. We can hold a special place in our hearts and moment of praise for the mothers who pour so much of what they have into a hope that their children will find a place that they can finally call home. A place of liberation and peace.