What Do My Ancestors Tell Me?

My generation is now the door to memory. That is why I am remembering.

Joy Harjo, U.S. Poet Laureate

It is clear that we share common ground as women, but our many ancestors present a mosaic of exile, diaspora, conquest, survival and triumph.

We are women remembering – with pride, grief, curiosity, vulnerability, and, most of all, a desire to reconcile our ancestral stories with our own.

What do your ancestors tell you?  Find the place to respond to The Q and submit in the side bar.


Read these creative women’s works in full by clicking on their titles. 

“I am memories wrapped in dark skin

absorbed by tissue and bone.”

– Katerina Canyon, excerpt from

Penance,” The Q


“Try to follow the toll of a bell that sings your name

a name rich with the stories of your family, with the stories of your homeland

but even our names are not our own …

our true names sunk to the bottom of the Atlantic.”

– Kenna Pearl, excerpt from

indigenous to,” The Q

“Ascension” by Rosetta DeBerardinis, The Q

“I’d love to listen, you know. So you tell me a story, a piece of sycamore you are made of.”

– Yenigün Batu, excerpt from “In the Attic,” The Q

“The maternal family tree—splintered, truncated. A withered specimen…

I have also done a fair amount of grafting. Painstakingly, Unflinchingly. Lovingly.

If I have to, I am willing to try resuscitation.”

– Barbara Anne Kearney, excerpt from”Broken Bough,” The Q


Author: A Room of Her Own

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