Terri Jewell at Womonwrites 1984. Photo courtesy of Rand Hall.

Terri Jewell (1954-95), Black, lesbian-feminist poet, lived in Lansing, Michigan, for the last twenty-plus years of her life, and we are happy to claim her for the South. She grew up in Louisville, Kentucky. In 1984, Terri attended Womonwrites: the Southeast Lesbian Writers Conference in Georgia with the Louisville League of Lesbian Writers.

During her short life, Terri Jewell published one book of poetry, Succulent Heretic (Lansing, MI: Oral Tortuga Press, 1994), and the collection The Black Woman’s Gumbo Ya-Ya: Quotations by Black Women (Freedom, CA: Crossing Press, 1993).

Terri’s book, Our Names Are Many: The Black Woman’s Book of Days (Freedom, CA: Crossing Press, 1996), was published posthumously. Terri Jewell’s poems also appear in scores of journals and are anthologized in collections like A Fierce Brightness: 25 Years of Women’s Poetry, When I Am An Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple, and If I Had My Life to Live Over, I Would Pick More Daisies.

When our Herstory Project editors went looking for women who remembered Terri Jewell, we found her Louisville League of Lesbian Writers friends eager to participate.

Rose Norman, author, grew up in rural Alabama during the civil rights era. She finally found lesbian culture when she was forty, and it changed her life forever for the better.

Interview by telephone by Rose Norman on April 12, 2013 Rose Norman:  What made you a social justice activist? Mandy Carter talked about getting turned on by an American Friends Service Committee speaker in high school. What was your “aha” moment? Joan Garner:  I grew up in Washington, D.C., during the 1950s and 1960s, the height of the civil rights movement. I was in the eleventh grade when Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated. That event was the aha for me. That very weekend, I was attending the annual conference of my high school sorority. Girls from several surrounding states were meeting in Washington, D.C., the weekend of April 4, at the Washington Hilton Hotel. Dr. King was assassinated, and a curfew was put on the city. We couldn’t leave the hotel. We were about 150 African American girls, and the rest of the hotel was completely white, except for some of the maids and other service staff. We were petrified about the assassination and the curfew; and we didn’t know what was happening. We could look out of our hotel window and see U Street starting to burn. Our sponsors decided …

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