By Jada Gomez
My great-grandmother died before I was born, but I still feel like I knew her. Like many oral histories of Black families, which are passed down and preserved while told around the dinner table, her story was one that the women in my family kept alive when I was growing up in Queens, New York. The family matriarch on my mother's side, my great-grandmother has always had a mythical quality to her — like a character from Black folklore. Read more >>