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ESSAY: VINTAGE BLACK UPBRINGING
Are we leaving our elderly Black community behind? Senior Editor James R. Sanders recounts his grandmother’s upbringing and love for fashion.
As a grown child would an elderly parent, she cared for her clothes with sweet sanctimonious reverence — and when she wore them, they cared for her with the same regard. There was no greater love.
No matter the struggle, however boisterous her voice got, even when she wasn’t as kind as she should have been, they loved her unconditionally and anyone could tell because they never made her look bad. Not even once — even when she deserved it.
To the people who knew her best, converting her room into a big closet with a bed and bookshelf in the center made perfect sense. You see, to understand her truly meant to accept her purpose even as a child when she realized she was called to live intimately amongst all her favorite things. Her husband, three daughters, six grands — even the one she raised alone, all understood. They were each great loves in their own way. This was a different love.
