I Don’t Blame You, Mama

Eventually, we all have to find a way to narrate our childhood. Most of us spend our twenties searching for the right story to tell, one that is true to our memories but spacious enough to contain the open futures we wish to inhabit. Finding the right narrative is tough. Its shape changes over time, so we rely on friends and siblings and therapists and other stories as we seek to identify with our own. Most of us get to do this in private. Baby Keem is doing it in public.

__
From a review published by Mockingbird.

Previous
Previous

Bearing Witness

Next
Next

Of Flesh, Of Spirit