"The workers opened the passenger-side door and carried out a very elderly Negro woman, who told us she was 109 years old. 'I was born a slave,' she announced. 'It's 'bout time I registered to vote.'"
Patricia recalls the impact of her experiences during the Civil Rights Movement. Seeing this woman exercise her right so-long withheld by sacrificing her personal comfort in order to visit the voting booth, Patricia remembers the critical importance of the work. Through the active participation of an entire community she believes that change will be enacted.
"By the summer of 1964, John and I had a long-distance marriage. In March John had been given a one-year Eleanor Roosevelt Fellowship by the National Association of Human Relations Workers, a position based in Atlanta, and I was still living in Quincy. . . Sometimes John and I did not see each other for a month at a time, but we had always known that lengthy separations might be a cost of our activism."
Although they do not enjoy the distance, Patricia and John accept the cost of their work. They both are so devoted to the cause that they are willing to sacrifice their intimacy and shared experiences in order to better serve the movement. Despite the distance, they develop greater respect for one another through this time apart.
"I don't think I had ever seen my father shed a tear before unless it was at his mother's funeral; and, in any case, I don't remember it. But that night, he shed tears. We asked him to recall any situations in which he'd believed his life was in danger, and he began discussing his field work not in Tallahassee or other points in Florida, but in Mississippi during Freedom Summer in 1964."
Tananarive has the profound experience of witnessing both of her parents work tirelessly for civil rights. In 1996, she is on edge after recent terrorism at the Olympics in Atlanta. In an effort to build a case against certain parties and the general state of racial oppression in the south, she and her mother interview her dad on tape. He recounts the real threats which he's encountered in his work, crying because the experiences are profound enough to feel almost concurrent with his present reality.
"I'd picked out the first name already. A couple of years earlier, while I'd studied contemporary African in a course taught by FAMU professor Dr. William Howard, I learned about the nation of Madagascar and its capital city Tananarive. . . The name sounded like music to me, and I'd vowed I would name my firstborn daughter after the city."
Patricia carries her learning experiences from college, when she first became awakened to the crisis of racial oppression in the south, into her adult life. She names her daughter after the capital of Madagascar, both for the elegance of the name itself and for its African symbolism. Even in her personal life, she desires to honor the legacy of cultural heritage.
