{"product_id":"black-single-mother-isbn-9780593447543","title":"Black. Single. Mother.","description":"\u003cb\u003eA personal meditation on, examination of, and tribute to Black single motherhood, unapologetically told through poignant essays and candid interviews by a celebrated cultural critic\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e“Jamilah Lemieux is one of the most important feminist writers of the twenty-first century.”—Brittney Cooper\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith her signature candid, humorous, and sometimes biting takes, Jamilah Lemieux suffers no fools while also courageously revealing the scars of her own parenting journey and search for self-acceptance in a world that hates “baby mamas.” With a particular verve and relatability—honed in her many years among Black Twitter’s most prominent voices—Lemieux centers the complex reality of Black single motherhood: uncertainty and fierceness alike.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eBlack. Single. Mother. \u003c\/i\u003ecombines riveting personal essays, infused with whip-smart cultural and historical analysis, with twenty-one intimate first-person testimonies from a spectrum of Black single mothers. A long-overdue offering in celebration of the American matriarch most often maligned, \u003ci\u003eBlack. Single. Mother. \u003c\/i\u003esets out to inspire a new cultural and community dialogue about this powerful figure as one profoundly deserving of love, support, and respect.“Celebrating the strength required to be a matriarch and challenging ignorant tropes.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eW\u003c\/i\u003e magazine\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[\u003ci\u003eBlack. Single. Mother.\u003c\/i\u003e] is funny and beautiful and insightful and sentimental and sharp and soft and will teach you things. . . . If you’re the kind of person who reads books or . . . has a mother, you’ll love this book.”\u003cb\u003e—Michael Harriot, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eBlack AF History\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This book mixes essays and interviews to celebrate and center Black single mothers, some of the most maligned people in the American consciousness.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eShe Reads\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I’m eager to read [Lemieux’s] insights, critiques, and perspectives on this much-misunderstood and maligned [identity].”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eMs.,\u003c\/i\u003e “The Most Anticipated Feminist Books of 2026”\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“One of the most powerful Black feminist voices on the internet is finally coming to bookshelves. . . . Lemieux has been instrumental in reframing attitudes toward Black women and calling out misogynoir. . . . [This book] is exploring what it looks like to embrace motherhood on your own.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eHello Beautiful\u003c\/i\u003e, “26 Black Books We Can’t Wait to Curl Up And Read In 2026”\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I did not know Lemieux would make us reconsider everything that has ever been uttered, read, and made about the nation and women who are Black and single. We will understand freedom differently after experiencing this book.”\u003cb\u003e—Kiese Laymon\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It’s about time someone held a lighter to the sky for Black single moms. This book is incisive, endearing, and laugh-out-loud funny at the same damn time.”\u003cb\u003e—Brittney Cooper\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What makes Lemieux such a significant and virtuosic public intellectual is her distinct synthesis of the academic with the \u003ci\u003ereal\u003c\/i\u003e. She fuses genius-level theory and a woman-inspired racial politic with a bravery to reveal and conjure entire curricula from the dirt. Y’all should be scared of her.”\u003cb\u003e—Damon Young\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Jamilah Lemieux is a fearless and brilliant writer and thinker, and an indispensable voice in today’s cultural climate. Whatever she writes, put it in your brain, agree or disagree—you’ll be smarter. I promise.”\u003cb\u003e—Van Lathan\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[Lemieux] brings depth, humor, and humanity to one of the most defining roles in our communities. This is a book for single mothers, for those raised by them, and for anyone ready to see this narrative in full color.”\u003cb\u003e—Tiffany D. Cross\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Without exaggeration, Lemieux has produced one of the most important books of this young century. She has also cemented her reputation as one of the most important voices of our generation.”\u003cb\u003e—Marc Lamont Hill\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eBlack. Single. Mother.\u003c\/i\u003e is an incredibly personal, deeply honest look at the complexities of Black single motherhood. It is, at its heart, a courageous love letter to Black single mothers and the children they’ve raised.”\u003cb\u003e—Jemele Hill\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This book reminds us that motherhood is not defined not by who is absent but by the abundant love, resourcefulness, and community that show up again and again. It’s a tender, unflinching portrait of motherhood that deserves to be widely read.”\u003cb\u003e—Glory Edim, author of \u003ci\u003eWell-Read Black Girl\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eGather Me\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eJamilah Lemieux \u003c\/b\u003eis a cultural critic and writer with a focus on issues of race, gender, and sexuality. A leading feminist thinker, social influencer, and millennial media darling, Lemieux has written for a host of platforms, including the \u003ci\u003eLos Angeles Times\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Nation, Essence, Playboy, The Cut, The Guardian, Colorlines, The Washington Post, Wired, Self, Refinery29,\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e. She was prominently featured in Lifetime’s docuseries \u003ci\u003eSurviving R. Kelly\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eSurviving R. Kelly Part II: The Reckoning\u003c\/i\u003e. She also appeared in A\u0026amp;E’s \u003ci\u003eSecrets of Playboy\u003c\/i\u003e. Lemieux penned the forewords for the anniversary editions of Michele Wallace’s \u003ci\u003eBlack Macho and the Myth of the Superwoman\u003c\/i\u003e and Ann Petry’s \u003ci\u003eMiss Muriel and Other Stories\u003c\/i\u003e. Currently, she writes a weekly advice column for \u003ci\u003eSlate\u003c\/i\u003e’s “Care and Feeding” parenting section and is a co-host for the podcast of the same name. She resides in Los Angeles with her daughter, Naima.\u003cb\u003e1.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eSomething’s Missing\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eFor a long time, I was a Black woman completely unaware that I faced the world in my mother’s clothes. \u003c\/i\u003e—Joan Morgan, When Chickenheads Come Home to Roost\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’ve spent too much of my life trying to figure out what’s wrong with us, my mother and me. How did we end up “alone” in the house with no man? First, the two of us alone together, and then me, alone with her granddaughter, a second-generation single mother. Was her failure my doom? Did I ever have a chance to be more than an unwed mom, or was this essentially my fate from the point when my parents’ messy—like, messy—relationship culminated in my out-of-wedlock birth? It’s not that I saw anything in my mother that seemed bad, not that there was anything deficient about her parenting. She has always loved me with the entirety of her heart, I was always well cared for, nurtured, tended to. I knew just how much I mattered to her, that she’d do anything for me. But—and this is a big but—she did not have a man! She was unchosen, unloved. No flowers on her birthday, no Valentine’s Day candy. No one to care for her but me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNot only was my mother manless, but she also showed no interest in doing anything to correct this obvious deficiency, and that was reason for me to question a whole lot of things about her for longer than I’d like to admit. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy obsession with what I believed to be missing from our lives didn’t line up with the truth of who my mother was. But the truth didn’t stop me from resenting our circumstances and always judging her. Despite her limited financial means, my mother gave me a childhood that was rich in experiences. She figured out how to send me to the best schools, and she dutifully dedicated herself to my academic success. She adored me, and she prioritized me in ways that perhaps she couldn’t if she’d also had to care for a man. Back then, I didn’t know how much labor relationships required of women, nor could I fathom how a woman could be okay without one.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs a young child, I suspected my mother loved me more than most other mothers loved their children. I’m not sure exactly why I felt this way, but I believed it very strongly. I was convinced that our connection was more than what other mothers and children had, that what we had was special.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOnce, when I was in kindergarten, one of the \u003ci\u003eTeenage Mutant Ninja Turtles \u003c\/i\u003ewas scheduled to appear at a local grocery store to promote their line of cookies. I’m not sure which one it was, but it wasn’t Raphael, the one I had a crush on (I loved his sarcastic attitude). My mother promised to pick me up early to go meet him. Having no concept of time, I spent most of the day agonizing, worried that she’d lied, forgotten, or simply changed her mind. When Mommy stepped into the classroom, about thirty minutes before dismissal, I felt so guilty for having doubted her and told myself I wouldn’t do it again. My mother always kept her word and she always showed up for me. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf anyone knows about my mother, they know how passionate she is about her only child. It was a source of pride when I was younger, but by my teenage years, I started to resent how much I was the center of her universe. “Get a life, lady!” I wanted to scream at her more than a few times. I was filled with confusion and growing resentment that my mother seemed satisfied just being my mother.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMommy rarely hit me, something I always felt was a distinct advantage that she held over other mothers. I was spanked on a few occasions as a child and popped in the mouth once or twice when I became an adolescent, but overwhelmingly, I escaped the violence that seemed to be so common within my peers’ homes. When I hear other Black folks talk about having their mother instill the fear of God in them, I can’t relate. On some level, I attributed this to my mother’s superior love for me. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eUntil I was a teenager (and the owner of a nasty, often disrespectful mouth), I always knew that my mother liked me. We weren’t just mother and daughter, we were best friends. So often, it was just the two of us, and we were excellent company for each other. Even as I hungered for a larger family, I was clear that I had a powerful connection with my mom and that we were, in a way, some sort of soulmates. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJosephine “Isoke” Poston, my mother, is the oldest of nine children. Before she was born, there was an incident where her father had badly beaten a white man, an employer who had called him his “hardworking nigger.” After being threatened by the Klan, he was forced to flee Arkansas, where his family had been for generations, to seek a new life in Kansas City. His young wife (my grandmother) joined him there, where he enlisted in the military, and then the daring couple relocated once more to Chicago. As they made their way through the Windy City, they moved around the West Side and the Low End before finally settling in the newly constructed Robert Taylor Homes, a massive public housing project in Chicago’s historic Bronzeville section (once the largest housing project in the nation).\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn general, Mom talks in positive broad strokes about her upbringing; she says things like there was “a lot of people and a lot of love” in her house. However, when she explains her observations of her young parents’ union, and the marriages of her grandparents, aunts, and other couples who were influential in her formative years, things are a little less buttoned up. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy maternal grandmother and grandfather were only twelve and seventeen respectively when they started dating. They married two years later. In the early days of their relationship, the story goes, my grandfather wasn’t running from a white man but from my grandmother’s father, who chased him down and stabbed him. It was over their age difference. It was a different time, granted, but knowing what I know about fourteen-year-old girlhood, I can’t fathom how my grandmother could’ve possibly been ready to be someone’s wife. Put it this way: I’m not mad at my great-gramps at all.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAccording to my mother, from her perch high up in the projects, it seemed like everyone in the neighborhood was cheating. Husbands had girlfriends; wives had boyfriends. Family members would come by and borrow her bedroom to entertain their secret friends. Despite the complicated view of marriage my mother got from these examples, she raced to the altar almost as soon as she could get there. At nineteen, she married “Peter,” the handsome twenty-two-year-old son of a well-to-do family, and a Vietnam vet. She rushed into the marriage in part because she wanted to leave her parents’ home. They had been married just two years when Peter died suddenly of complications related to a drug habit he picked up after returning from the war. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy mother was never of the mind that she absolutely had to have a man, and her brief marriage left a bad enough impression for her to be leery about making such a choice again. As a young woman, she dated and enjoyed getting to know men, but she often found herself disappointed by their behavior and underwhelmed by how they treated her. She explained to me that it didn’t make sense to make them a priority considering they did so little to improve her quality of life.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOne of my primary activities as a child was reading. From when I was very small, my mother would take me to the library, and on every visit she’d let me pick out a large stack of books. We even traveled to different libraries in the area looking for the best selection of Black children’s books. I remember learning about slavery reading \u003ci\u003eThe People Could Fly\u003c\/i\u003e and being transported to Africa, our ancestral homeland, in the pages of Mufaro’s \u003ci\u003eBeautiful Daughters.\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe books that I read as a child never seemed to feature single-parent-led homes. Back then, it seemed that single mothers only appeared on screen via the news, always for something negative. There was nothing in popular culture that looked anything like my family. The few Black single mothers I came across on TV generally had multiple children and often by men who were completely absent, either because they had died (the title character on Thea, Aunt Rachel on F\u003ci\u003eamily Matters\u003c\/i\u003e, Mabel Thomas on \u003ci\u003eWhat’s Happening!!\u003c\/i\u003e), or were deadbeats (Will’s father, Lou, on \u003ci\u003eFresh Prince\u003c\/i\u003e). \u003ci\u003eSister, Sister’s\u003c\/i\u003e Lisa Landry, who adopted a baby alone as a young woman, didn’t have those tragic complications and had the fortune of falling into a nuclear family structure with Ray Campbell, who almost immediately became protector and provider for her and her child. (Why couldn’t my mom find a man like that?)","brand":"Roc Lit 101","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302018404581,"sku":"NP9780593447543","price":32.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593447543.jpg?v=1767722721","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/black-single-mother-isbn-9780593447543","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}