The Sensitivity of Sensitivity Reads

One of my first essays on Substack, when I was testing out what I wanted to do, was about my editing process. Before I began podcasting, I was exploring my platform and had just gone through a brutal but necessary copyedit, and I wanted to talk about the lessons learned.

Write now in the ethos of publishing is a bit of a scandal about a writer when given feedback about an offensive bit of dialog in their novel, decided to keep it in to show the main character as “flawed.” Yes, racism is a flaw. Expressions of racism in a main character, a romantic hero is a flaw. I really do like my romance novels, well all novels without a side of microaggressions.

Some people argue that everyone is too sensitive or “too woke.” Others seem to long for a time when publishing was less scrutinized, less inclusive. You know, when inflammatory content could be published without consequence. Some long for the so-called “good old days” when most books catered to a dominant perspective reinforcing loud stereotypes, atmospheric patriarchal notions, or subtle supremacy.

Words are powerful. They can expand imaginations and help build better societies. When an author is not sensitive to the needs of others, that author will be found arguing with reviewers on social media, making faux apology videos, and getting publishers in trouble. If the scandal arising from publishing microaggressions, stereotypes, cultural appropriations, or racist and ableist sentiments is big enough, that author may face bans or delays in publication. If they have a fan base, they’ll be alright. I just don’t think it’s not worth it. No insensitive hill is worth dying on.

I’m 27 books into this process—twenty-five published, with number 26, A Wager at Midnight, set to release March 25. I value opinions, especially those different from mine or from perspectives and backgrounds unlike my own. I actually get nervous when an editor gives little to no feedback—I want it all. Iron sharpens iron. Critiques are how writers improve.

So let me pull back the curtain and share my process and how edits and sensitivity fit in the writing process.

First, I write the worst draft in the world. ➡ Revise ➡ Then Revise Some More ➡ Developmental Edits ➡ More Revision ➡ Sensitivity Review ➡ Copyediting ➡ Proofreading ➡ (And Pray—throughout!)

Worst Draft in the World

Every writer has to know how they write. I know my first draft needs to be between 25-30% of the final book’s word count. Any more than that and I’ll overwrite the book when I revise. That first draft is naked. I spend time, revising adding mood, colors, setting, historical touches, and emotional depth. I usually revise the awful-no-one-will-ever-see-it draft three times before going to the next stage.

Developmental Edits

Developmental editing tackles the big-picture elements: story structure, pacing, plot, character arcs, and themes. This stage addresses questions like: Does the story flow logically? Are the characters well-developed? Are there plot holes or inconsistencies? What’s the message? What’s the theme?

For every book I write, I hire a freelance editor. My Felicia gets the manuscript before my acquiring editor. Why? I want to turn in the best possible version of this book. So that editor won’t have to spend time plugging plot holes, catching redundancies, etc. One time, Felicia caught when I’ve changed character names mid-story. She knows me—and more importantly, she knows what I’m capable of delivering. I can confidently hit send to my acquiring editor knowing the manuscript is good. My editor gets it, and with their input, we can make a great book.

Back to Revisions

Back in my hot hands with my editor’s notes, it’s time to revise the manuscript again. This is my chance to refine it. I will rewrite sections and cut stuff. I’m rarely asked to expand—such is the happenstance of being a wordy, word-loving author. But I’m brutal at this stage. No word, storyline, or character is safe. I will cut. I will cut with abandon. In my next historical fiction coming January 2026, I cut 55,000 words. Let me say that again. Fifty-five thousand. Yes, it sucked. It hurt. It’s not like I can just put these words into another book but it was the best call. The book is better for. I believe in my editor’s feedback. I’ll do what’s necessary to send readers the best book.

At this point we’re in good shape. Let’s get back to being sensitivity.

The Sensitivity Touch

Sensitivity readers are supposed to review the manuscript to ensure your beautiful words doesn’t offend, get you sued, or put you on a watch list. Every one of my historical fictions—Island Queen, Sister Mother Warrior, Queen of Exiles– has been subjected to sensitivity reviews. My editor, publisher, and I want to make sure these books are accurate and respectfully represent cultures, identities, and historical events.

It’s a crucial step. It can’t be overlooked when tackling diverse characters or sensitive topics. Look, I am Black. I’m of Caribbean descent. Dad was Trini and Ma was Southern Baptist Black. I don’t get a pass to say I can automatically write about Haitian or Jamaican cultures. I do meticulous research about the most minute details, because I take my responsibility very seriously to represent these cultures and ancient peoples with respect. But I’m not perfect. I want the help. I need someone to kick my manuscript and put it through the emotional-cultural wringer before I get lit on fire by putting something out that’s wrong or, worse, offensive.

Sensitivity readers provide essential notes on areas that may inadvertently cause harm or perpetuate stereotypes. Writers, we are not supposed to do harm. Stories have power. They have a life and energy of their own. Authenticity and inclusivity elevate your writing. Don’t you want positive impact?

Copyediting and Proofreading

We’re not done. Copyediting and proofreading take our writing to the finish line. Copyediting hones in on the finer details and examines grammar, punctuation, sentence structure, consistency, and clarity. The previous edits have messed with the story a lot. A copyeditor should identify errors and flag inconsistencies. A good copyeditor will highlight blocking (the entering and exiting of characters from a scene) repetitive words or phrases—those dreaded echoes! A great copyeditor will teach you something. I recently learned that “hubris” wasn’t used until the mid-19th century—a fascinating tidbit for a proud historical fiction writer trying to write a 17th century novel.

Proofreading

A proofreader does a final pass before publication. They catch lingering typos, formatting issues, and minor errors that slipped through earlier stages. Even the most seasoned author can’t catch every mistake, not on their own. Proofreading ensures your book meets top quality standards.

My Mantra for Edits

All the hard work in crafting a story means nothing if you neglect editing or decide on a whim to leaving in something “flawed” for kicks. Welcome to my Ted talk:

* Absorb the critique: It’s not an attack—it’s insight. Sensitivity edits aren’t judgments on you, but your characters. Listen to the wisdom.

* Weigh the Critique: There’s a difference between personal preference and a flashing red light—know which you’re dealing with.

* Have Your Sources Ready: Have your references handy to support accuracy. Include them in your author’s note. Someone is bound to have the question. (PSA: Always add an author’s note.)

* Query, Don’t Assume: Never make a decision to revise—or not—based on assumptions. Challenge both your own and your editor’s perspectives. Make sure neither is rooted in a colonizer’s lens—unless you’re literally writing about Christopher Columbus. (Example: A copyeditor once tried to tell me the Khoe people were incorrectly addressed. That I shouldn’t call them by that name or “Khoesans” because it was created in 1928. The Khoe have existed since 2300 BC. My book was set in 1675. I think Khoe is good. Source documents are in the author’s note.

* Question Dialogue and POV: Read the editors notes. Sometimes they are right about things sounding “too formal or stilted.” Read actual correspondence from the period. It will surprise you about how informal things can be. Make sure you read James by Percival Everett or Lady Tan’s Circle of Women by Lisa See, two masterful uses of dialog entwined to tell ancient stories for the modern audience.

* Be Humble: Negative feedback stings, but it’s a tool for growth. Questions and queries are opportunities to clarify, refine, and strengthen your work.

* Avoid Harm: Represent cultures with authenticity and respect. Sensitivity edits help you sidestep pitfalls that could undermine your credibility.

* If someone flags an issue, fix it: Even if you don’t see it as a problem, take it seriously. If one reader finds something harmful or offensive, chances are others will too. If you are dealing with fictional characters, you can change stuff. If real people are jerks, that’s harder—see A People’s History of the United States” by Howard Zinn to learn or debunk ideas about the horrid exploits of Christopher Columbus. I don’t believe in whitewashing or hiding the truth. Dismissing concerns as “not a big deal” is a failure. It is a big deal. Rise to the moment.

Editing is an investment—not just for your benefit but for your readers. Every stage—developmental edits, revisions, sensitivity reviews, copyediting, and proofreading—are needed to make your novel the best it can be. Your story, your readers, and your publisher deserve that effort. Don’t be defensive. Do the right thing.

Show Notes:

This week we are linking to FoxTale’s Bookshop through Bookshop.org.

Books by Vanessa Riley:Riley, V. (Year). A Wager at Midnight. [Publisher].Riley, V. (2021). Island Queen. William Morrow.Riley, V. (2022). Sister Mother Warrior. William Morrow.Riley, V. (2023). Queen of Exiles. William Morrow.

Other Fiction & Nonfiction Books:Everett, P. (2024). James. Doubleday.See, L. (2023). Lady Tan’s Circle of Women. Scribner.Zinn, H. (1980). A People’s History of the United States. Harper & Row.

(Bonus) Writing & Editing Book:Browne, R., & King, D. (2004). Self-editing for Fiction Writers: How to Edit Yourself into Print (2nd ed.). William Morrow.

This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit vanessariley.substack.com/subscribe

I started writing essays because my mind battled deep disappointment over the state of division in my country. My consciousness is bias, tragically etched with memories of when character mattered. Remember when we all wanted to be president? I remember holding civic medals I’d won in elementary and high school. I recall lifting people up on pedestals and telling younger versions of ourselves, “That’s who I want to be. That’s who I want to emulate when we grow up.”

Heroes of the Haitian War —Empress Marie Claire, Warrior Gran Toya – Art by Tonya Engle for William Morrow—Sister Mother Warrior

That sentiment is gone. People in power are deeply flawed, or their flaws are more obvious. And it’s not just politicians. We look at sports heroes and entertainers and see waves of brokenness—people performing for show, lacking integrity, and becoming poster children of bad behavior. That is why authenticity feels so refreshing, why it can grip the zeitgeist of a nation and have us talking about it, creating YouTube videos and Subtacks on the subject, even spinning reels and threads—finding more ways to tap into our fount of creativity.

We are hungry for authenticity, for authentic creation.

Now, I’m not advocating for perfection. Every writer knows the pitfalls of striving for perfection. We wrestle with word choice, sentence structure, even the order of ideas. We can edit something so many times that our original vision becomes unrecognizable. Yet, we push forward because the act of creating is essential. It’s the breath in an artist’s lungs.

Our better angels—our novels of truth, our canvases of color, our songs of freedom, our quilts of existence, our visuals of life—are needed more than ever. We are hungry for authenticity, for authentic creation.

Our appetites are satiated in low-calorie burns. Scrolling for kicks, laughs, angry takes, and escape is common. But social media, the hellscape that it is, can be a respite or a drug. And I must say, I am confused about the self-induced stupor of tearful videos of people who voted against their own interests, now seeking the world’s sympathy as they grapple with consequences—lost jobs, lost funding, lost farms, and lost hopes. It’s painful to watch. It’s also jarring to see them admit that this consequence is only a problem now because they suffer. I did a podcast about the loss of empathy. I just didn’t expect an equivalent rise in blindness to FAFO.

I wish harm on no one, but these folks are putting themselves and their business out there and wonder why they are being mocked. Empathy and sympathy need to be learned and earned before they can be demanded from others.

And yet, here we are—still divided, still finding out. We could sulk. We could laugh. We could cry. But I believe the better thing to do is to keep moving forward. That’s how we—the collective, those of like minds, and even new converts to humanity—win. Everyone, we can win. We will win.

There’s a scene I wrote in Sister Mother Warrior—the lead-up to the Battle of Vertières, the drive to push the French out which ended the Haitian Revolution, this is a snippet of the audio performed by Adjoa Andoh and Robin Miles:

Staking the flagpole in the ground, he (Jean-Jacques Dessalines) stopped and looked out at his army. “They divide, but we are consolidated, one family. And this gives us victory…”

Then he gave the signal and pointed us to the hills. “Onward! We will win!” The battle cry of Nosakhere, “Mì nan du déji! We will win!” was music to my ears. Women and men cried out in all the mother tongues of the people born here and those stolen from Africa.

“Yebedi kunim,” Twi.

“A yoo ṣẹgun,” Yoruba.

“Nou pral genyen,” Kreyòl.

“Nous gagnerons,” French.

“Mì nan du déji,” blessed Fon.”

I love that scene—people of all races and nationalities gathering to defeat their common oppressors. Unified they drove the French from Haiti. It took everyone. In America, it will take all of us to win.

The True Fight

We’re not fighting with weapons of war—guns and tanks. We are fighting for minds. The power to unlock thought and passion is creation. How we got here doesn’t matter. Whether orderly or chaotic, it’s not about the process—it’s about the product. What are you making with the time you were given?

The battles can be as small as saving your money by avoiding fast fashion and shopping your closet. Eating and talking about life around the kitchen table instead of eating out. Supporting your library by using it and checking out books by your favorite authors is an act of resistance.

For those who harness their creative genes, making something, delivering art is the ultimate act of resistance. Creating ignites the brain, releasing endorphins and unlocking resilience. Instead of dwelling on despair, we must tap into our inner artist, writer, and creator to make magic in the medium of our choosing. I want this period of time to be a rebirth or renaissance for folk arts, for kitchen experimentation, for the novels we will talk about for the next seventy years.

For every creator out there, I know it feels difficult to make art right now. It feels worse when you know you did your part to keep the world from being set on fire. I often think of my farming grandparents, who lived in the Jim Crow South, educated eight children, and bought over 400 acres of land with mere pennies. If they could plant so many seeds in the face of lynchings, why are we letting fear of people who whine at the first moment of heat or being stoned by pea soup cause us despair? No one should keep us from doing what we must. No one.

History proves that perseverance defies expectations:

· Gran Toya led troops in hand-to-hand combat in her 60s during the Haitian Revolution.

· Fauja Singh began running marathons at 89, setting records in his 100s.

· Ray Kroc turned McDonald’s into a global empire in his 50s.

· Diana Nyad swam from Cuba to Florida at 64 after multiple failed attempts.

· Faith Ringgold gained major recognition for her story quilts in her 50s.

· Cicely Tyson was told she wouldn’t make it because of her dark skin; she won a Tony at 88 and worked until her passing at 96.

· Morgan Freeman became a household name in Driving Miss Daisy at nearly 50.

· Samuel L. Jackson landed Pulp Fiction at 46 after years of struggling with his career. Our Uncle Sam is now one of the highest grossing actors in Hollywood.

And, of course, there are the writers I’ve spoken about:

· Toni Morrison published The Bluest Eye at 39 and won the Nobel Prize in Literature at 62.

· Maya Angelou published I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings at 41 and became a literary icon.

· Octavia Butler faced rejection for years before breaking through in sci-fi in her 40s.

To every creator, hear my voice: Grab your paper, pens, keyboards, fruits, spices, fabrics, glues, paints, resins, threads—whatever you have—and birth a miracle. Create. Art is the first and last sign of resistance.

The work isn’t done. We resist by creating. My art—my words—exist to empower Black women, foster sisterhood, and restore the world to a place where we are our brothers’ and sisters’ keepers. The ancestors say we will win. I believe them, and I believe in us.

To read about inspiration and resistance:

· Letters to a Young Artist by Anna Deavere Smith – A guide to creativity and resilience in the arts.

· Just as I Am by Cicely Tyson – The legendary actress’s memoir, chronicling her journey as a Black woman in Hollywood.

· I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou – A deeply personal story of overcoming hardship through art and voice.

· Sister Mother Warrior by Vanessa Riley – A novel about the real women behind the Haitian Revolution, embodying resilience and leadership.

· Wayward Lives, Beautiful Experiments by Saidiya Hartman – A history of Black women who lived on their own terms in the early 20th century.

· Barracoon: The Story of the Last “Black Cargo“ by Zora Neale Hurston – A firsthand account of survival and resilience from one of the last known survivors of the transatlantic slave trade.

Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast. This week, I’m highlighting The Book Worm Bookshop through Bookshop.org.

This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit vanessariley.substack.com/subscribe

Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl LIX halftime performance during the game between the Kansas City Chiefs and the Philadelphia Eagles has set the internet—and much of the world—abuzz. Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult is the most banned book in America for challenging the way people see the world. I’m sure those same folks will be coming for Kendrick’s thirteen minutes for challenging the way the world operates.

Less than a week later, scholars, pontificators and fools offered hot takes, deep dives, and debates about every minute of the performance. Those versed in Black scholarship loved it. Others criticized it. And, there were plenty of opinions and outright lies circulating. But here’s what’s undeniable: 133.5 million people watched the halftime show at Caesars Superdome, making it the most-watched in Super Bowl history. According to Roc Nation, Apple Music and the NFL, this number beats those who watched the Fox broadcast of the game which averaged 126 Million viewers. That 7.5 million more tuning into halftime than game time.

Context is King: History of the Halftime Show

Let’s talk about origins. The Super Bowl, the annual championship game of the NFL, has been played since 1967, with college marching bands providing halftime entertainment.

Grambling State University, a HBCU had its marching band perform at Super Bowl II (1968).

In 1972, the first halftime show featuring a Black performer, non-marching band member, was Ella Fitzgerald at Super Bowl VI in Miami where she sang Mack the Knife.

Super Bowl IX (1975) in New Orleans paid tribute to Duke Ellington with Grambling State’s Marching Band and the Mercer Ellington Orchestra.

When was the next Black moment? We have to skip a bunch of years to get to 1991, Super Bowl XXV where the incomparable Whitney Houston delivered a stirring rendition of The Star-Spangled Banner, but she wasn’t the halftime headliner—New Kids on the Block were. In 1993, Michael Jackson, the 1st Black performer to headline the halftime show dazzles the crowds at Super Bowl XXVII (27) and sets the standard for pop stars and the future of football’s biggest event. The King of Pop owned the stage and every moment of his performance. If 100,000 people had actually turned off their TVs like they claimed they did, Michael Jackson would still hold the record, with an audience of 133.4 million viewers.

Other notable performances featuring Black artists across the lengthy history of halftime shows include:

• Super Bowl XXII (22nd, 1988) – Chubby Checker appears with the Rockettes and 88 grand piano players.

• Super Bowl XXIX (29th, 1995) – Patti LaBelle & Teddy Pendergrass were featured along with Tony Bennett.

• Super Bowl XXX (30th, 1996) – Diana Ross dazzled in a red gown and even changed outfits mid-show.

• Super Bowl XXXI (31st, 1997) – A blend of James Brown appearing with ZZ Top and The Blues Brothers Band.

• Super Bowl XXXII (32nd, 1998) – A Motown tribute featured The Temptations, Smokey Robinson, Martha Reeves & The Vandellas, Queen Latifah, and Boyz II Men. Watching those young men of Boyz II Men sing about their mothers hits differently now, especially juxtaposed with Lamar’s solitary silhouette atop the GNX in New Orleans and his dancers, young men gathered under a street lamp.

• Super Bowl XXXIII (33rd, 1999) – Stevie Wonder joins Gloria Estefan and Big Bad Voodoo Daddy.

• Super Bowl XXXIV (34th, 2000) – Toni Braxton is featured.

• Super Bowl XXXV (35th, 2001) – Featured Mary J. Blige and Nelly.

• Super Bowl XXXVIII (38th, 2004) – Janet Jackson’s infamous “wardrobe malfunction” occurred.

• Super Bowl XLI (41st, 2007) – Prince performed in the rain, delivering one of the most iconic halftime shows in history.

• Super Bowl XLV (45th, 2011) – Usher and the Prairie View A&M University Marching Storm supported The Black Eyed Peas.

• Super Bowl XLVI (46th, 2012) – Madonna headlined with Nicki Minaj and CeeLo Green at Lucas Oil Stadium.

• Super Bowl XLVII (47th, 2013) – Beyoncé tore down the Superdome in New Orleans, reuniting with Destiny’s Child.

• Super Bowl 50 (2016) – Beyoncé returned, performing a Black Panther-inspired set supporting headliner Coldplay.

• Super Bowl LIII (53rd, 2019) – Big Boi and Travis Scott performed in Atlanta.

• Super Bowl LV (55th, 2021) – The Weeknd headlined in Tampa.

• Super Bowl LVI (56th, 2022) – Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, Kendrick Lamar, Mary J. Blige, and 50 Cent rocked SoFi Stadium in Inglewood.

• Super Bowl LVII (57th, 2023) – Rihanna, pregnant and powerful, delivered her first live show in over five years.

• Super Bowl LVIII (58th, 2024) – Usher commanded the stage in Las Vegas.

• Super Bowl LIX (59th, 2025) – Kendrick Lamar featuring SZA.

So, let’s be clear: Black performers at the Super Bowl are not new. Hip-hop and rap at the Super Bowl are not new. For those suddenly enraged—why weren’t you bothered during the 39 other years when Black artists weren’t featured or headlined? The selection process has always been based on merit—the most talented for the job, period. Right?

And with DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) now the new taboo, let me ask: Why do some get upset when things aren’t diverse—when people who look like them aren’t centered or given an extra slot or quota on stage? Do you want equity and inclusion or not?

Kendrick Lamar is highly qualified. He won the 2018 Pulitzer Prize in Music for his album DAMN. He’s a 27-time Grammy winner, and one cannot deny that his 2024 diss track, Not Like Us, has the world on fire. Please, show me someone with better credentials who’s willing to perform a 13-minute Super Bowl halftime show—for free.

Let’s Dive into the Performance

Lights flash. I see nine squares and glowing X’s and O’s. I wonder—are we about to get Tic-Tac-Toe or something else? In the background, a power bar, formed of stadium lights or drones, begins to load. I know we’re about to witness something special.

More lights flash. The bar is almost at 100%, and I sit on the edge of my seat, expecting a high level of storytelling artistry from Lamar. According to Britannica, art is a visual object or experience consciously created through an expression of skill or imagination—and right now, skill and imagination are exactly what we need.

In a flash, a “Start Here” sign and arrow appear, pointing to the lone figure on the hood of a Buick GNX. Kendrick Lamar, a young Black man, crouches on the car. The image evokes loneliness—it’s dramatic, and I’m locked in as the gleaming black Buick GNX (Grand National Experimental) transforms into a clown car, packed with dancers spilling out. So many exit the vehicle that I later learn the seating had to be removed to fit them all into that tight, cramped space—not unlike bodies crammed into the hulls of ships.

On Instagram, Lamar writes about authenticity: “In the moment of confusion, the best thing you can do is find a GNX. Make you realize the only thing that matters in life is that original paperwork. That TL2 code. 1 of 547.”

What does original paperwork mean when you’re the descendant of chattel slavery? Is it the slave ship’s manifest that documented the theft of ancestors? The bill of sale from massas in the States or Grand Blancs in the Caribbean, depending on where your roots were auctioned off? Or is it the manumission papers, declaring your freedom—bought at a price?

This leads me down another rabbit hole: authenticity—who is American and who is not? In a country that often forgets to be kind to the foreigner (Leviticus 19:33-34), or that it was founded by immigrants—many seeking religious freedom, a fresh economic start, or escape from oppression—this question cuts deep. It’s a scar that never fully heals.

Did you know that, in the past—like I wrote about in Island Queen—people with any tint to their skin have had to carry manumission papers or proof of their free status to avoid being accosted? Many around the nation feel this burden now. We’re still caught in this cycle because we’ve banned the books that teach history and empathy.

Back to Football—America’s Game

I highly recommend reading Moving the Chains: The Civil Rights Protest That Saved the Saints and Transformed New Orleans by Erin Grayson Sapp, which examines the 1965 AFL All-Star Game boycott, where players protested against racial discrimination in New Orleans.

Another must-read is Race and Football in America: The Life and Legacy of George Taliaferro by Dawn Knight, chronicling the journey of George Taliaferro, the first African American drafted by an NFL team, and the challenges he faced.

Red, White, & Blues of Uncle Sam

The visuals cut to Uncle Sam—portrayed by Academy Honorary Award winner Samuel L. Jackson. With a film career grossing over $27 billion worldwide, making him the highest-grossing actor of all time, Jackson embodies this iconic American figure. Some might be wondering, What in the DEI is going on with this Black version of a fictional Americana, but it soon becomes clear: Uncle Sam is here to keep Lamar in line.

Jackson plays Uncle Sam as Uncle Tom. Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Harriet Beecher Stowe’s 1852 abolitionist novel, portrayed White men as morally bankrupt and Black individuals as either complicit in oppression or suffering under it. The book also depicted White women as the moral conscience of a system they benefited from, yet remained angelic through their Christian preaching. The novel ends with the enslaved Tom dying because he refuses to betray two Black women who have escaped. As he dies, he forgives his abusers.

The novel’s humane portrayal of enslaved people and its righteous female characters were said to have contributed to the start of the Civil War. Enraged Southerners banned the book. In the 1940s, Langston Hughes attempted to revive interest in it, but Richard Wright and James Baldwin criticized it, arguing that it promoted the image of an “Uncle Tom”—a Black person subservient to Whites or complicit in oppression.

In Lamar’s performance, Uncle Sam enforces the “party line” of American success. At times, he antagonizes Lamar, telling him, “You’re too loud, too reckless, too ghetto.” He dictates that since Lamar refuse to comply with the rules of the American game, he must be penalized: “Deduct one life.”

The death count is brutal—and so is American history, even without including the countless lives lost under enslavement:

• Fort Pillow Massacre (1864): Confederate soldiers slaughtered surrendering African American Federal troops stationed at Fort Pillow, Tennessee. Between 277 and 295 Union troops were killed.

• Memphis Massacre (1866): A White mob murdered 46 African Americans, most of whom were Union veterans.

• New Orleans Massacre (1866): A White mob killed 35 Black citizens and wounded 100 for peacefully gathering in support of a political meeting.

• Colfax Massacre (1873): A White militia massacred approximately 150 African American militia members who were attempting to surrender in Colfax, Louisiana.

• Wilmington Massacre (1898): A premeditated attack left 60 Black Americans dead as White supremacists sought to eliminate African American participation in government and permanently disenfranchise Black citizens.

• Atlanta Race Riot (1906): White mobs killed at least 12 African Americans and burned over 1,000 homes and businesses in Black neighborhoods.

• Springfield Race Riot (1908): The Illinois state militia was called to quell the chaos as a White mob shot innocent people, burned homes, looted stores, and mutilated and lynched Black residents.

• Chicago Race Riot (1919): The “Red Summer” began when a Black youth was stoned to death for swimming in an area reserved for Whites. Over 13 days of lawlessness, 23 African Americans were killed, 537 were injured, and 1,000 Black families were left homeless.

• Ocoee Massacre (1920): A massacre of Black residents in Ocoee, Florida, left approximately 30 dead.

• Tulsa Race Massacre (1921): Tulsa’s prosperous Black neighborhood of Greenwood, known as Black Wall Street, was destroyed—1,400 homes and businesses burned, nearly 10,000 people left homeless. Vanessa Miller’s The Filling Station is a poignant portrayal of the massacre and the resilient rebuilding that followed.

The sacrifice of Black lives makes Lamar’s imagery of tangled bodies forming the flag raw. It hit me in the pit of my stomach. I live knowing that the sacrifices and body counts will continue to rise, forming trending hashtags: #BreonnaTaylor #AhmaudArbery #TamirRice #TrayvonMartin #GeorgeFloyd

The Movement of Dancers

The visuals of Black dancers dressed in red, white, and blue moving around what is now clearly the game receiver mirror how many of us are on the X button—saying yes to conforming, to getting along, to advancing, to avoiding having our dreams burned up by a jealous or misinformed mob. When the dancers near the circle stage—the reject button—they enter a staircase that leads to a slope, which brings them back to where they started. Is that a metaphor suggesting we are better off right where we began before chasing conformance?

The Most Misunderstood Part: Serena Williams

Serena Williams, who once dated Drake, danced the Crip Walk on stage. Distraught commentators ground their teeth, calling it disrespectful for a forty-year-old mother to be dancing on the figurative grave of her ex.

The caucasity of this is the belief that this exhibition was about a man or a former relationship. Serena Williams is not just some “baby mother.” She was ranked No. 1 in the world in women’s singles by the Women’s Tennis Association (WTA) for 319 weeks—the third-most of all time. Williams has won 73 WTA Tour-level singles titles, including 23 major women’s singles titles. She is the only player to accomplish a career Golden Slam in both singles and doubles.

The Crip Walk is a celebration, notably adopted by her folks from her city of Compton, and it symbolizes the alliance of California street gangs, the Crips— as in Crips vs. Bloods. No, Serena is not part of a gang. But like the dance’s founder, Henry Crip—a Harlem dance legend who lost an arm and a leg in a car accident—she celebrates moving forward and achieving. Williams first did the Crip Walk in 2012 at Wimbledon, eliciting massive backlash for celebrating a huge win—for the girl from Compton.

Seeing her dance freely, hair flowing, I think of the Tignon Laws of New Orleans, which I mentioned in my podcast Consent in the Time When a Black Woman Can Say No, and the long history of policing Black women’s bodies. In Serena, I saw joy and celebration. If I am to think of Drake at all—a man who has used Serena’s name in diss songs—I see freedom from a toxic relationship. That’s cathartic.

Ok, Now the Hotep Or Too Deep to be Real Take

Lamar does say he is a stargazer, so maybe the 16 stars on Uncle Sam’s jacket resemble the Little Dipper. if I squint, I can see it. But the talk online about the design representing the 16 free states—states that prohibited slavery between 1850 and 1858—seems like a stretch. These arbitrary dates are supposedly tied to U.S. naval activities interrupting the slave trade.

I’m not buying this. The U.S. Navy’s role against stopping transport began in 1820 when warships deployed off West Africa tried to catch American slave ships, but enforcement was sporadic until the Navy deployed a permanent African Squadron in 1842. Last time I checked, 1850 and 1842 are different years. A rounding error won’t make them the same.

By 1858, there were 32 states in the Union, including Minnesota, which was admitted on May 11, 1858. California was the 31st state, admitted on September 9, 1850. If I count the list of free states—states that prohibited slavery—I get 17:

1. Pennsylvania – December 12, 1787

2. New Jersey – December 18, 1787

3. Connecticut – January 9, 1788

4. Massachusetts – February 6, 1788

5. New Hampshire – June 21, 1788

6. New York – July 26, 1788

7. Rhode Island – May 29, 1790

8. Vermont – March 4, 1791

9. Ohio – March 1, 1803

10. Indiana – December 11, 1816

11. Illinois – December 3, 1818

12. Maine – March 15, 1820

13. Michigan – January 26, 1837

14. Iowa – December 28, 1846

15. Wisconsin – May 29, 1848

16. California – September 9, 1850

17. Minnesota – May 11, 1858

So the math and the facts aren’t jiving. Kendrick Lamar is very precise in his lyrics. An arbitrary number or pattern doesn’t seem to be his M.O. I could stretch and say he mentions losing 16 friends in his song “wacced out murals,” but then I’m just spitballing.

Not everything has a direct meaning, but that’s the beauty of art—it can mean many different things to different people. Kendrick Lamar and his performance is art and it should be applauded for making us all stop and think.

Ending the American Game

As the last notes of “Not Like Us” finishes, Lamar and company launch into “TV Off.” When he finishes the rap, he holds up a virtual remote, turns it off, and forces the stage to go dark. In lights, we see the sign: Game Over. Does he mean the American game is over because we refuse to learn from the past or that he’s stop playing the game? Lights out—Is that symbolic of a Revolution being televised until it’s not? Is the American Game going to stop feeding on Black life, Black culture, and Black breath? What happens if every American, turns off the TV, the cellphone, social media, etc. and stops playing the game?

America is founded with the God-given right to have differences of opinions. Of being able to choose your path, to dream the biggest dreams, and to make them happen—on or off the field. Whether we play the game or not, movement, not standing still, is how we inch forward toward the goal posts. It’s how we will awaken and form a more perfect union.

You can learn more about banned books from the American Library Association (ALA), PEN America, and Authors Against Book Bans.

Show notes include a list of books I’ve mentioned in the broadcast. This week, I’m spotlighting Brave and Kind Books through Bookshop.org.

Miller, Vanessa, (2025) The Filling Station. HarperCollins.

Picoult, Jodi. (2007). Nineteen Minutes. Atria Books.

Riley, Vanessa. (2021). Island Queen. William Morrow.

Hughes, Langston. (2000). Simple’s Uncle Sam

Lamar, Kendrick. (2017). DAMN [Album]. Top Dawg Entertainment.

Lamar, Kendrick. (2024). GNX [Album]. Top Dawg Entertainment.

Sapp, E. G. (2019). Moving the Chains: The civil rights protest that saved the Saints and transformed New Orleans. Louisiana State University Press.

Smith, A. W., & Hailey, W. (2020). Race and Football in America: The life and legacy of George Taliaferro. Indiana University Press.

Stowe, Harriet Beecher. (1852) Uncle Tom’s Cabin.

Images are screenshots of ROC Nation and Apple Music feeds.

This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit vanessariley.substack.com/subscribe

It’s universally known that everyone who has a career or talent that intersects with the public must learn to deal with waiting. Everyone waits. Whether a king or a servant, a politician or a bank teller, time slows down while you wait to receive or give something. Even though the physical globe continues to rotate around the sun, our present circle will seem stopped or stuck. It’s an uneasy feeling that grows and can become unbearable the longer the wait time.

Creatives, especially writers know at some point in their career, will have to wait. Let’s dive into this world. Early on, it’s waiting for the right idea. Then, it’s waiting to find time to write. After that, we wait on edits or feedback from workshops, peers, or critique groups. If you are pursuing a traditional path, we wait for the magic call or Zoom with an agent announcing they love our voice and wish to sign us. Then, there’s the ultimate wait when, as a traditional author, one anguishes for a positive response from an editor at a publishing house. We want that “yes.” We crave that affirmation that we’ve written something that matters.

For indie authors, the struggles may look different, but waiting is still inevitable. You might be waiting on cover designers, layout artists, or formatters to deliver essential elements for book production. But no matter how we publish, all authors wait for early reviews and to see how fans and new readers react.

I’m reminded of a keynote I once heard Walter Mosley give. He was joking with his close friend, Gregory Hines, about how his world would change now that he had received his long-awaited “yes”. His risks were finally paying off, both literally and figuratively. But Hines, in his wisdom, simply told him, “Don’t worry, you’ll be broke again.” Mosley acknowledged that Hines was right and drew a big laugh from the National Book Club conference admitting that he was again and again.

Vanessa meets Walter Mosley at the 2024 National Bookclub Conference in Atlanta.

As authors, we will always be in a waiting game until we stop writing. We will be waiting on contracts, ad placements, book launches, or even the next words to come. But waiting doesn’t mean sitting around, worrying while we stave off dread. Waiting should be active.

Waiting involves an expectation that things will work together for our good (Romans 8:28). We must prepare for the next step (James 5:7). I want to act as if the answer is yes. I work in the present to be ready for the blessings. I never expect the worst. I try to be joyful until I have a reason to cry.

And let’s be real. Sometimes, the answer is no. Sometimes, it’s a kick in the gut—the realization that this good thing was not for you. It’s okay to grieve. We are human. We can be sad.

Yet, when we feel like we’ve blown it, we must remember that we are seen. We are not forgotten. I love how Psalmist puts it in Psalms 40:1-3:

“I waited patiently for the Lord; he inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise.”

So rejoice in the good. Weep in the sadness. And know we are not alone.

The Waiting Winners Timeline.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I have a list of some of the great waits that eventually paid off. History is full of people who had to wait long periods for their dreams and recognition to come true:

• Sister Rosetta Tharpe (1915–1973) – The “Godmother of Rock and Roll” influenced Chuck Berry and Elvis Presley but wasn’t fully acknowledged until her induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2018.

• Cicely Tyson (1924–2021) – Though she acted for decades and delivered groundbreaking performances in Sounder (1972) and The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman (1974), she never received her full due until 2018 when forty-six years later, Cicely was presented with an honorary Oscar for her lifetime achievements. She was in her 90s.• Zora Neale Hurston (1891–1960) – As I mentioned in earlier episodes, Ride or Die or Get Out of the Way and Grab Somerset Gumbo, Your Best Girl, and Go, Zora’s work during the Harlem Renaissance was intentionally buried by gatekeepers. She died in poverty and obscurity, and her work had to be rediscovered a full decade after her death. I will say this a thousand times: This is not the way. Death and poverty should never be requirements for a writer’s success.• Octavia Butler (1947–2006) – Octavia’s first published work was a short story called Crossover in 1971. Her first novel, published by Doubleday in 1976, was just the beginning. The visionary science fiction writer, who won Hugo (1984) and Nebula Awards (1985), struggled for mainstream success until she published Parable of the Sower in 1993 and won the MacArthur Fellowship in 1995. That’s more than 22 years of waiting. The world is forever grateful for Octavia’s perseverance

• Walter Mosley – Walter started writing in the 1980s, and his first novel, Devil in a Blue Dress, was published by WW Norton on June 19, 1990. He faced several years of difficulty in getting published because publishers didn’t think there was an audience for Black detective fiction. Once it sold, it became a classic, even being adapted into a movie starring Denzel Washington.

One could say it all paid off. Perhaps. But I’m sure that the waiting wasn’t easy or sweet. I am thankful that each persevered with their gifts and changed the world.

How to Productively Wait

Since waiting is inevitable, I made a list of practical ways to stay productive and engaged:

1. Don’t Obsess—Rest: Avoid refreshing your inbox constantly. Do chores. Volunteer. Don’t obsess on reels or social media, but do find ways to bless someone else.

2. Read Widely: Explore new releases, classics, nonfiction, and poetry to inspire new ideas. This is something I do. It’s one of the reasons I confidently write in three genres—historical fiction, romance, and mystery. My voice adapts. I give readers of these genres what they want, what they expect, because I learn from all good stories. Sister Mother Warrior, about the two women who shaped the Haitian Revolution, is my most literary work, but it’s also the most muscular novel I’ve published. Its heft comes from a lot of nonfiction, including books on war and diaspora poetry.

3. Take a Class: Study writing guides or attend workshops. Some great books to consider:

o Elements of Fiction by Walter Mosley – Explores storytelling fundamentals such as character development, plot, and voice.

o How We Do It: Black Writers on Craft, Practice, and Skill edited by Jericho Brown – Features Nikki Giovanni, David Omotoso Black, Natasha Trethewey, Barry Jenkins, Jacqueline Woodson, Tayari Jones, Angela Flournoy, and more.

o On Writing by Stephen King, a personal favorite

4. Build Your Author Platform: Update your website, refresh your bio, and check your events list. I know some of those dates have passed.

5. Network with Other Writers: Attend writing groups, conferences, and in-person events.

6. Touch Grass—Literally: Get outside, take a walk, observe nature, and breathe fresh air

7. Enter Writing Contests: Consider submitting to:

o Writers of the Future Contest

o The Bridport Prize (That’s a UK contest)

o The Black List Unpublished Novel Award

o Reedsy.com has lists of competitions for poetry and proses.

Writers realize that all competitions are not created equal. Some have implicit bias. Do your homework before submitting. I don’t want your work stolen or misrepresented or fumbled by hands that should never had touched your creation in the first place

8. Stay Informed on Industry Trends: Keep up with publishing news, avoid scams, and research new agents and publishers and marketplaces.

9. Plan Your Marketing Strategy: Work on your launch plan and outreach to bloggers and media, so you are ready when you get your yes.

10. Replenish Creativity: Step away when needed—travel, pick up a hobby, or simply rest.

11. (Bonus Point) Start a New Project: If you’re querying, don’t immediately start book two in your series. Instead, write something fresh that could be your breakthrough project.

Embrace the Wait

Waiting is hard, but it doesn’t have to be unproductive or soul-crushing. It’s part of our process. It’s formative to our seasons of growth. We have to be prepared, or we will not harvest and allow our fruit to rot. Remember, everything worthwhile takes time. Every success story has had its pauses. The key to getting through to the light is to fill the waiting with purpose. Whether you are a seasoned pro or just getting into the business (the publishing game), trust that waiting always comes before your journey unfolds.

Keep writing.Keep learning.Keep going.And when that long-awaited “yes” finally comes, enjoy it. Bask in the joy. And remember how it feels, because, as Brother Mosley indicated, you will go through it again.

The lists of books mentioned in the podcast are listed below. Included links support Loyalty Bookstore via Bookshop.org:

Butler, Octavia E. Crossover: Short Story: Fragments. Edited by Robin Scott Wilson, Clarion, June 1971, Signet / New American Library. OEB 337, ca. 1970.

Butler, Octavia. Parable of the Sower. Seven Stories Press, 1993.

Mosley, Walter. Devil in a Blue Dress. W.W. Norton & Company, 1990.

Mosley, Walter. Elements of Fiction. Hachette Books, 2009.

Brown, Jericho, editor. How We Do It: Black Writers on Craft, Practice, and Skill. HarperOne, 2021.

King, Stephen. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. Scribner, 2000.

Riley, Sister Mother Warrior, William Morrow, 2022.

Thank you for listening. Hopefully, you’ll come again. This is Vanessa Riley.

This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit vanessariley.substack.com/subscribe

Hey fearless listeners. We’ve made it to another week. That accomplishment isn’t something I take lightly. Times feel perilous. Worries are rampant. I’ve had more conversations where I’ve been talked off the ledge—or where I’ve held up safety nets for others.

But let’s congratulate ourselves. We’ve made it through the fire. California has literally done that, with most of the wildfires now 100% contained. Let me repeat this: We will get through hard times. My faith is strong, my friendships are firm. I believe in doing life with us, helping each other along the way.

Subscribe for free. Get Vanessa’s take on current events, publishing drawing from her journey as an indie author turned traditionally published powerhouse: 25 novels and counting.

As your historically inclined friend, I thought deeply about writers and writing friendships this week. As a writer, I love studying other writers. I look for habits to incorporate or styles to dissect and admire. There is so much that can be learned from reading and studying the craft of other. While there’s nothing new under the sun, some writers have found ways to capture its light and change the world by focusing its heat and power back on to the earth—our neighborhoods, communities, countries—even for just a mere moment.

I draw a lot on images. In my own writing, I want you to feel like you’re in the room where it happens. In Sister Mother Warrior, I make you the warrior Gran Toya, sitting at the table where the boy she raised, Jean Jacques Dessalines converses with the commander of the armed forces, Toussaint L’Overture. They speak about strategies to prosecute the war, and I spend time on the tastes of the foods on the table from broth and its caramelized bits to the roasted pheasant with mushrooms. If this scene were painted or dared to be shown on screen, you should catch the meticulous details and comforts of where they’re sitting, the posturing, even the fumbling of fingers along the buttons of a waistcoat that has crowns or birds or women painted upon them.

Images tell us so much. They are testament to what has been and what could be. Remembering photos of writer friendships like Ralph Ellison (Invisible Man) & Albert Murray (The Omni-Americans) and noting the dapper and different styles of dress. Or photos of James Baldwin & Langston Hughes taking in jazz or supporting a civil rights march—all our precious moments. So for this week’s essay, I went down a rabbit hole searching for images of female writer friendships.

Ralph Ellison, Langston Huges, and James Baldwin

Source: Instagram: @neicyreedus

I started with the Brontë Sisters—Charlotte (1816–1855), Emily (1818–1848), and Anne (1820–1849). These literary powerhouses from Yorkshire, England, originally published under male pseudonyms, but their female forward works—Charlotte’s Jane Eyre, Emily’s Wuthering Heights, and Anne’s The Tenant of Wildfell Hall became classics of English literature. I found myself looking at a painting of the sisters created in 1843 by their brother, Branwell Brontë. He originally painted himself into the portrait but seeing the sunshine, their luminous faces, he painted out his own image, leaving behind a ghostly outline.

Brontë Sisters—Charlotte (1816–1855), Emily (1818–1848), and Anne (1820–1849). Source: Wiki Commons.

Can you imagine Branwell’s humility and protective nature of his sisters and their genius. The portrait now hangs in the National Portrait Gallery in London for all to see.

From there, I dove into Sylvia Plath (1932–1963) and Anne Sexton (1928–1974). The two revolutionized confessional poetry, tackling themes of mental illness, feminism, and personal suffering. They often attended poetry workshops and lectures together, but I couldn’t find any pictures of them side by side. They may exist, but what if they don’t. What does that mean to have a friendship so secretive and private? To not celebrate the unity publicly—what does that say about feminine unity?

In contrast, I did find images of Anne Sexton and poet Maxine Kumin.

Anne Sexton and Maxine Kumin. SOURCE: karenmoline.com

After meeting Sylvia Plath for drinks, Anne still craved company, so she joined a local writers’ group. This where she first heard Maxine Kumin—a quiet but powerful voice sharing a work in progress. They couldn’t have been more different: Maxine, prim and frumpy; Anne, wild and bold. But together, they were yin and yang. They edited each other’s work, co-wrote poems, and built a bond so deep that it became a true creative partnership. You know how rare it is to fully trust another writer with your words? That’s the kind of magic the two had.

One of my favorite modern writer friendships is the trio of Beatriz Williams, Lauren Willig, and Karen White. Their collaboration has produced, several books including The Lost Summers of Newport—one of my favorites. They’re often seen together at book events wearing pearls, sipping signature cocktails, and laughing with the kind of joy that only comes from shared secrets, success and sisterly love.

The Lost Summers of Newport: Beatriz Williams, Lauren Willig, Karen White

Another legendary literary sisterhood? Toni Morrison (1931–2019) & Maya Angelou (1928–2014). These two are iconic, two of the most important voices of the 20th century. I’ve seen photos of them young and free, standing tall in their brilliance. I’ve seen pictures of them in their later years, side by side in wheelchairs, dressed to the nines, radiating wisdom and grace. Their friendship was built on admiration, public support, and deep mutual respect.

Toni Morrison and Maya Angelou. Source: Virginia Tech News.

These images are so encouraging to me. As writers, we often work in solitude, wrestling with words and deadlines. But community matters. These friendships remind me of that.

There’s one more image I found in 2023. —It appeared in the LA Times article, touting a new book, The Sisterhood. The photo, which serves as the book’s cover, captures eight young, beautiful Black women gathered together, smiling for the camera. Let me set the scene…

The hostess, let’s call her June, was waiting for her collection of poems to be published in two months. Every author knows that feeling, the anxiety of waiting for pub day, the stomach-churning dread of the book’s reception, the early reviews. I can imagine June wanting her girls around her for support. She calls her writer friend Alice. Alice is a girl’s girl. She’s written a big exposé for Ms. Magazine and is so close to locating a literary treasure she can taste it. Tasting reminds of her spices. She picks up the rotary dial phone and calls the best cook she knows, Vertamae. Vertamae is a Brooklyn celebrity and a cultural anthropologist, but she brings a pot of gumbo with large shrimp, smoked sausage and proper Geechee rice.

More calls are made, and these writers and activists come to June’s apartment. One friend, I think Toni, who had a couple of books published and a little money in her pockets of her fine leather jacket brings the best champagne she can afford. Maybe one bottle of expensive Veuve Clicquot Brut with the Yellow Label to toast something real special. And then she purchases a few bottles of Moët & Chandon or maybe something sparkling and American like André or California Korbel.

Are you getting the picture? Glasses in hand, toasting each other. A 12-inch long-play album sings in the background Stevie Wonder’s “I Wish” or Rose Royce’s “Car Wash.” If June’s love for Bessie Smith wins out, she will make sure the Empress of the Blues’s “Downhearted Blues plays.” After the dishes were cleared, I can imagine them reciting poems, like Anne and Maxine. They might work on plot points or tweak a line or two, passing it amongst themselves, much like Beatriz, Lauren, and Karen.

And just as they ready to leave and tug on their jackets back to brave the February cold, someone suggests a picture. The ladies group together in the living room under June’s hanging picture of singer Bessie Smith. Click. Someone catches the moment. Much like Branwell Brontë, someone has gotten out of the way to commemorate this moment where the sun shined through and touched legends.

Let me formally introduce you to these women:

· June Jordan – A trailblazing poet, essayist, and activist whose work championed social justice, Black empowerment, and the experiences of marginalized communities. In the picture, she was two months away from publishing Things That I Do in the Dark (1977), a poetry collection reflecting on race, gender, and personal identity.

· Alice Walker – A Pulitzer Prize-winning author and activist, best known for her novel The Color Purple and her tireless efforts in preserving Zora Neale Hurston’s legacy, Alice was an established writer, having published Meridian (1976), a novel exploring the civil rights movement.

· Vertamae Smart-Grosvenor – A culinary anthropologist, writer, and Gullah culture advocate is known for her work blending storytelling with food traditions, including her groundbreaking book Vibration Cooking: Or, the Travel Notes of a Geechee Girl (1970).

· Toni Morrison – A Nobel Prize-winning author and Random House editor celebrated for her powerful novels like Beloved that illuminate the complexities of Black life, memory, and history stands, all cool, in her leather coat. At the time of this gathering, Toni had already gained literary acclaim with The Bluest Eye (1970) and Sula (1973). By February 1977, she was months away from publishing Song of Solomon, which would earn her the National Book Critics Circle Award.

· Nana Maynard – A newbie who would go on to become a scholar and cultural advocate for highlighting the contributions of Black artists and writers is there in the front row.

· Ntozake Shange (Toe-zaka chan-gay) – A poet, playwright, and novelist renowned for her choreopoem For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide / When the Rainbow Is Enuf, which helped redefined the portrayal of Black womanhood in art. She was a household name in the 70s and advanced Black feminist theater.

· Audreen Ballard – A gifted writer and thinker who worked for activism and celebrated Black culture, she became an active voice in literary feminist communities.

· Lori Sharpe – Lori was at the beginning of her career, but she went on to become an accomplished poet and writer whose works explore themes of identity, community, and Black womanhood.

Front Row (L to R): Audreen Ballard, Ntozake Shange, Nana Maynard

Back Row (L to R): Vertamae Smith- Grovenor, Alice Walker, Lori Sharpe, Toni Morrison, and June Jordan – Source LA Times.

This photo means the world to me–legends standing on business, celebrating and communing together. It shouts several things at once:

1. Because writing can be an isolated place, seek out friends.

2. Enjoy the best—whatever that may be—when you gather. Eat gumbo, drink the wine.

3. Differences in levels of talent, stages and stature in careers shouldn’t keep anyone from getting a bowl.

4. Toast every one and every accomplishment with good champagne

5. Record the moment. We need good memories.

When I go places, I’m often that one friend taking a hundred pictures. I try to be quick, and I’ve learned to snap photos in live mode. It’s the best way adjust things to make sure everyone looks their best—eyes open, expressions just right, etc. And sometimes static shots can be turned into video so I can relive the moment. It helps to feel not so isolated.

Lastly, it never hurts to be Branwell or the unknown one who snaps the picture. Don’t worry about hogging the light. Today more than ever, someone will catch you and your moment.

So, dear listeners, writers in the house, do something for me: Get with your friends—those soldiering in the same fields and include a few who are doing something different. Celebrate life. Stay hopeful about the things you’re expecting. You deserve delicious gumbo, champagne, and your best girls pouring life into you, just as you do the same for them.

More about information about sisterhoods and writing friendships can be found in the show notes, along with the reading list.

This week buy select books at Mahogany Books at Bookshop.Org.

Show Notes:

Literary Friendships:

Ellison, Ralph. Invisible Man. Random House, 1952.

Murray, Albert. The Omni-Americans: Some Alternatives to the Folklore of White Supremacy. Outerbridge & Dienstfrey, 1970.

Thorsson, Courtney. The Sisterhood: How a Network of Black Women Writers Changed American Culture. Columbia University Press, 2019.

Hamann, Jamie Lee. “Friendships: Maxine Kumin and Anne Sexton.” HubPages, updated December 2, 2017.

Smart-Grosvenor, Vertamae. Vibration Cooking: Or, the Travel Notes of a Geechee Girl. Doubleday, 1970.

Morrison, Toni. The Bluest Eye. Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1970.

Morrison, Toni. Song of Solomon. Alfred A. Knopf, 1977.

Walker, Alice. The Color Purple. Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1982.

Jordan, June. Things That I Do in the Dark. Doubleday, 1977.

Walker, Alice. Meridian. Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1976.

Williams, Beatriz, Lauren Willig, and Karen White. The Lost Summers of Newport. William Morrow, 2022.

Riley, Vanessa. Sister Mother Warrior, William Morrow 2022.

Thank you for listening. Hopefully you’ll come again. This is Vanessa Riley.

This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit vanessariley.substack.com/subscribe

To the writers, the creatives: if you’re like me, you possess a deep curiosity about humanity and a desire to do good through your work. But creatives—are you struggling? Are deadlines slipping through your fingers? Is the blank page staring back at you, stubborn and bare?

Do you feel alone, like no will ride out to save you?

The truth is no one is coming, because we are all anxious and distracted. It’s hard not to be. Since our last episode, it feels like a million and one things have happened all at once.

I’ve seen creatives grappling with the still-high price of eggs, building skits about boycotts—or debates about debating boycotts—and the resurrection of TikTok sparking discussions about zombie-like timelines.

Time burns.

Writers wrestle with their roles. We try to create worlds, worlds that feel diverse and welcoming while rage-watching unqualified individuals ascend to power due to the privilege of their bank accounts or honestly whiteness or white associations. I’ve seen a spectacle of posts from people with crosses in their bios making rage filled takes on what Jesus would or would not do.

How do we create, keep creating when everything around us is in flux and chaos? I usually have my act together. I plan and execute. This week I’ve let time get away from me. I’ve written and rewritten this very essay a multitude of times. I want to give you fresh mana every time I step to the microphone.

Then unexpectedly, clarity came during a celebration of life for a dear friend’s grandmother.

Watching a montage of Mrs. Dorothy’s life in photos, hearing testimonies of love, and, most poignantly, listening to the words of her longtime best friend moved me deeply. Her bestie described their years of shared laughter, prayer, and adventures—as missions of foolery at bars, late-night Thelma-and-Louise-style escapades, and their unshakable bond.

When the bestie shared a piece of wall art Mrs. Dorothy had made for her, I choked up. Hung in a gilded frame, the red and orange colors radiated joy. I felt the sisterly love and support. The bestie said that everything wasn’t always perfect between them, but they knew that either would ride to hell and back for the other.

At that moment, I knew what I had to write. The question that cut into my soul—are you someone’s ride or die? Are you someone’s safe harbor, their distraction from life’s destructive winds? Or are you a danger in disguise, someone who, by intent or accident, dims their light?

“Vanessa, why so serious?” We are living in serious times. Everything must be purposeful. We need to think before we speak. James 1:19-20, says something like, brothers and sisters, everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because anger does not produce righteousness.”

Why should we do this slow think? It doesn’t feel good. If I just post on social…

No. These social media streets are meaner than ever. And the consequences of a good jab, a quick retort, can have monstrous FAFO reactions. Let me tell you a few short stories to illustrate this.

There was once a phenomenal female painter whose work celebrated women and cultural pride with breathtaking power. At the height of her talent, she was mostly ignored. Society lauded her famous husband as the true genius. She was told to be quiet, to support him, to be lesser. I imagine, she often looked up at the sky and wondered why there wasn’t enough light for two.

There was a humble poet who burned to tell the stories of ordinary people. When she poured her heart into her writing, critics dismissed her. They wanted stories about the elite, not the impoverished. The fire in her soul left no room for compromise, but her enemies sought to bury her work. They succeeded. No one rode to save her. She died impoverished and in obscurity. She closed her eyes knowing her peers had deliberately dimmed her light.

There was once a collector who nurtured others’ prose. She gave so much of herself that her own work was overlooked. After publishing several novels with little acclaim, she gazed at the starry sky and wished there was enough light for her mentees and her too.

Imagine women dying spent of their energy and grace, dismissed, barely acknowledged. Unfortunately for a female creator, these are not anomalies.

Women Who Didn’t Live to See Their Due

Artemisia Gentileschi (1593–1656): An Italian Baroque painter whose powerful depictions of women, such as Judith Slaying Holofernes, were overshadowed by her male contemporaries. Today, she is celebrated as one of the Baroque period’s greatest artists.

Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz (1651–1695): A Mexican nun and writer whose literary works were suppressed by church authorities. Forced to sell her library of collected books, she soon died. Her best known work Reply to Sister Filotea of the Cross is a defense of women’s education. Today, she’s a feminist icon.

Emily Dickinson (1830–1886): The American poet published fewer than a dozen of her nearly 1,800 poems during her lifetime. Today, she’s a legend.

Zora Neale Hurston (1891–1960): A giant of the Harlem Renaissance, Hurston’s work was erased from mainstream consciousness for decades. She died in poverty and was buried in an unmarked grave.

Frida Kahlo (1907–1954): Often overshadowed by her husband, Diego Rivera, Kahlo’s work is now recognized worldwide as a celebration of womanhood and Mexican culture.

There are more—always countless more women who are dismissed and their greatness only acknowledged posthumously. Death and decades of time shouldn’t be prerequisites for a creative to get their due.

Back to my earlier stories, I have some posthumous updates.

The Ignored Artist: Frida KahloAlways in the shadow of her husband, the famed 1920s painter Diego Rivera, Frida’s talents were noted and championed by art-world luminaries like socialite Lupe Marín (Diego’s first wife) and photographer Tina Modotti. Lupe introduced Frida to influential figures in the art world, while Tina captured stunning photographs that catapulted Frida’s reputation. These two women helped elevate Frida’s distinctive style and works, including her 1926 piece, Self-Portrait in a Velvet Dress. Their support was instrumental in promoting her art in Mexico and beyond, eventually earning Frida the global acclaim she deserved.

The Hobbled Writer: Zora Neale HurstonStory two was about the gifted Zora. During her lifetime, Zora was celebrated as a writer of the Harlem Renaissance. However, after the 1940s, her work fell out of favor. She was criticized by contemporaries for not explicitly addressing racism or aligning with the civil rights movement. Her focus was on everyday folk and folklore. This divergence caused the literary elites to push her into obscurity. Shunned and misunderstood, Zora died in poverty in 1960, and yes, buried in an unmarked grave.

Enter burgeoning writer Alice Walker (The Color Purple), who encountered Zora’s Their Eyes Were Watching God in graduate school around the 1970s, a decade after Zora’s death. Profoundly changed by the novel, Alice was shocked that Zora’s legacy had been erased. Determined to restore it, she feverishly researched Zora’s life, eventually writing an essay for Ms. Magazine titled “Looking for Zora.” Alice located Zora’s unmarked grave and purchased a headstone, inscribed with: “Zora Neale Hurston: A Genius of the South.”

The Dismissed Editor: Jessie Redmon FausetJessie (1882–1961) was a vital figure of the Harlem Renaissance, yet her work was undervalued in her lifetime and largely forgotten until the feminist and civil rights movements of the 70s. I recently read an advanced copy of Harlem Rhapsody by Victoria Christopher Murray, which chronicles Jessie’s life. Victoria beautifully highlights how the editor’s dreams were often sacrificed to nurture younger Harlem Renaissance writers like Langston Hughes. Her contributions to literature and her own novels deserve the same spotlight:

* There is Confusion (1924): Examines issues of race and ambition among Black professionals.

* Plum Bun (1928): Explores passing and the complexities of identity, a theme that may have influenced her friend Nella Larsen’s Passing.

* The Chinaberry Tree (1931): Focuses on family dynamics and societal expectations within Black communities.

* Comedy: American Style (1933): A biting critique of internalized racism and the pursuit of whiteness.

Thank you, Victoria, for returning Jessie to our lexicon.

That’s what I love about research and writing. Pen to paper, words forming sentences—we get to take readers back in time and restore women. In Sister Mother Warrior, I rediscovered Marie-Claire Bonheur, the first Empress of Haiti, and Gran Toya, a counselor and African military leader to Emperor Jacques I (Jean-Jacques Dessalines). These two women, connected to the man who liberated Haiti, were crucial to shaping the Haitian Revolution. Within the prose, I built the respect and friendship that developed between these two polar opposites. That’s right opposite can respect and ride for each other.

With fiction based loosely on historical events and people, I ride for the forgotten and amplify sisterly ideals. In A Gamble at Sunset and the forthcoming A Wager at Midnight, I deliberately showcase the Wilcox sisters’ relationship. These Black women are far from perfect. They won’t be painted or captured in a pristine sonnet. They’re messy and passionate. Their ability to listen and not judge is constantly tested, but they will ride at dawn for their sister.

We need that energy now. Listen closely: I’m not interested in performative protests. I don’t want my exhausted sisters lifting a finger for something that’s not well thought out. I refuse to witness the front of a firing line, because the loudest folk dropped away and hid.

Moreover I don’t want to see sisters picking apart another sister or their art for clicks or because they disagree. We’re blessed that Lupe and Tina weren’t judgmental in their love for Frida. Alice didn’t care that Zora wrote differently from her. She didn’t question Zora’s identity or love for her people. Alice stood in the gap and worked to elevate Zora. She returned her to us and bought a headstone to honor a woman, she’d only met in reading the dismissed words of Their Eyes Were Watching God.

What I’m saying is: In these times of turmoil and distress, leave petty differences behind. Ride or die for the freedom, freedom to produce art. Don’t let your sisters die in poverty. Don’t let them leave this earth without tasting the fruit of the seeds they planted. In a world of chaos, be Lupe, Tina, or Alice—or any other writer who restore our ancestors to us.

My dear creatives, ride or die or get out the way.

If you want a deeper dive into some of the books mentioned here’s the list:

The Answer / La Respuesta (Expanded Edition): Including Sor Filotea’s Letter and New Selected Poems. Sor Juana Inez de la Cruz. The Feminist Press at CUNY, 2009. 2nd ed.

The Chinaberry Tree. Jessie Redmon Fauset. Dover Publications, 2013.

The Color Purple. Alice Walker. Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1982.

Comedy: American Style. Jessie Redmon Fauset. Rutgers University Press, 1933.

A Gamble at Sunset. Vanessa Riley. Kensington, 2024.

Harlem Rhapsody. Victoria Christopher Murray. Berkeley, 2025.

Plum Bun. Jessie Redmon Fauset. Beacon Press, 1928.

Sister Mother Warrior. Vanessa Riley. William Morrow, 2022.

There Is Confusion. Jessie Redmon Fauset. Dover Publications, 1920.

Their Eyes Were Watching God. Zora Neale Hurston. J. B. Lippincott & Co., 1937.

A Wager at Midnight. Vanessa Riley. Kensington, 2025.

One additional resource, the additional essay Alice wrote, “Looking for Zora” is in this collection: Walker, Alice. In Search of Our Mothers’ Gardens: Womanist Prose. San Diego: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1983.

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