I'm Every Woman: Remixed Stories of Marriage, Motherhood, and Work (Hardcover)

~ Lonnae O'neal Parker (Author) "NOT LONG AGO, my husband, Ralph, and I were visiting good friends, a college buddy of Ralph's and his new wife, when they decided to..." (more)
Key Phrases: Momma Susie, Cousin Kim, Washington Post (more...)

Editorial Reviews

From Publishers Weekly

AWashington Post journalist, wife and mother of three, Parker offers some sharp insights into balancing the multiple roles that engage contemporary women. Her remix blends history and memoir in "an assembly of voices and perspectives... of women... whose struggles presaged modern womanhood"—that is, middle-class black women for whom deciding not to go to work "wasn't an option at all." Money management, child-rearing, career management, cooking, religion, sexuality, having fun—all the things that women chat about among themselves get their moments. Parker's reach is broad, embracing her family, historical models (e.g., Ida B. Wells Barnett, Madame C.J. Walker) and a wide array of artifacts of popular culture (film, soap opera, rap music, magazines, etc.). Race plays a role in most of her observations; sometimes, as in the issues of skin color, hair and passing, it takes center stage. Parker's volume is best read in segments; a certain repetitiveness characterizes the remixing, and the pop culture references date quickly. Most working women will, nevertheless, find food for thought; as Parker puts it, "It's not that I believe that black women have all the answers—only that we have struggled with the questions longer and that sometimes that makes some of our tool sets more expansive." (Nov.)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From The Washington Post

This could have been a marketing ploy, a filling of a niche. After all, search an online bookstore for "working mothers," and you might get 750 hits, reports Lonnae O'Neal Parker. Add the word "black," and you get only seven. But as a black working mother herself, Parker knows there are many women like her out there and have been for a long time -- surely long enough to have a few more books on the shelf. With I'm Every Woman, Parker claims a spot on the shelves for her perspective on what it is to be a married, professional, black, middle-class mother. And her book -- part memoir, part analysis -- is far too heartfelt to be a mere marketing ploy.

Black women have watched the mommy wars ("the media-fueled at-home- versus at-work-mom conflict," as Parker, a Washington Post reporter, defines it) from the sidelines because, for most, the outcome has already been decided. Black mothers work, end of story. It's a backhanded gift from American history, left over from slavery and the Jim Crow laws that made it illegal for a black woman to stay at home and not toil as a sharecropper alongside the rest of her family: "Black women and field work and house work and paid-outside-the-house work simply go too far back," Parker writes. "I can't ever recall a conversation with a black woman who asked me why I worked, and when I hear of a black woman who doesn't, I'm glad she's got a man who's earning money and willing to give her the opportunity to nurture her own family because the historical significance of her position is profound."

History can intrude even upon the daily routine. Parker pulls her fellow black mothers right in when she notes that running out of hair grease is a major element of a hectic morning, right up there with volunteering at the kids' school just before having to interview officials at the Cuban Interest Section: "Unless you have a child whose hair goes out instead of down, it can be difficult to quantify the pressures, time and otherwise, that a kink coefficient can add to your day. Hard to describe the necessity of gripping a hairbrush until . . . your fingers begin to spasm. Or to convey the ritual constant -- sometimes affirming, sometimes tearful -- stretching back over all the generations we remember, of planting a daughter between your knees and trying to bring a diasporic sensibility to the Africa growing from her head."

But Parker's respect for history -- with the giant asterisk of slavery and loved ones lost that African American women have suffered -- keeps her from whining too much about day-to-day annoyances. Race and culture can be funny and, as Parker writes, the obsession with hair is "a black woman thing, and I'm not sure if other folks understand." But she does an excellent job of explaining it to everyone else.

Parker is a passionate storyteller, remembering her childhood on the South Side of Chicago, living first in an all-black area, then in a more integrated one. Her mother, with whom she has had plenty of ups and downs, emerges as the hero. Betty Lou is a survivor, raising three kids amid a hard marriage to Parker's alcoholic and schizophrenic father, who killed himself in 1985 when Parker was 18. Betty Lou retired after 32 years as a schoolteacher and recently confessed that she once burned down an abandoned house next door that was a "beacon for winos and children." Now that's a real mother for you.

Parker, too, must make difficult decisions about how to protect her kids from unfortunate influences. To find faces and thoughts and humor in popular culture that jibe with her educated, middle-class, forward-thinking sensibilities is a constant challenge. "The Cosby Show" and "The Andy Griffith Show," with their homespun lessons for living, are approved for the Parker family television. UPN fare, which she describes as "cartoonishly black," is not. Music, which Parker loves (the book's title is from a Chaka Khan song, and R&B lyrics are sprinkled liberally throughout), is equally problematic. Long a hip-hop fan, she has always hated its misogyny and explicit videos. The filter on her stereo is as strong as the one on her TV. Her children probably know more about the 1979 hit "Rapper's Delight" than they do about current superstar 50 Cent.

Parker is refreshingly frank about the cultural hurdles she's had to overcome to keep it all together: Her marriage has required a counselor and her house well-compensated domestic help. So if Parker seems at times as if she can handle anything, it could be that she is speaking for herself when she writes, "It's not that I think black women have all the answers -- only that we have struggled with the questions longer."

Reviewed by Lori Buckner Farmer
Copyright 2005, The Washington Post. All Rights Reserved.

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Product Details

• Hardcover: 272 pages
• Publisher: Amistad (October 25, 2005)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0060592923
• ISBN-13: 978-0060592929
• Product Dimensions: 8.4 x 5.8 x 1 inches
• Shipping Weight: 14.4 ounces
• Average Customer Review: 4.3 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (7 customer reviews)
• Amazon.com Sales Rank: #1,376,428 in Books (See Bestsellers in Books)

Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

8 of 10 people found the following review helpful:

4.0 out of 5 stars I Loved 'I'm Every Woman', November 7, 2005

By	Michelle "Mickey" (Chicago, Ill.) - See all my reviews

Lonnae O'Neal Parker's book 'I'm Every Woman' was talking to women just like me -- women who are working hard, raising children and not getting enough time to play, let alone play hard. I love that she ties our modern day struggles to those of the hard-working black women before us. Not only did her stories of bartering with her husband resonate with me, but I learned something about the women I come from. It's nice to get that in a book that is largely about an author's life. So many authors just feed us their opinion without backing it up in history or fact, or anything except 'this is how I feel.' Bravo Lonnae O'Neal Parker. I know what 'every woman' in my life is getting for Christmas! Great read!

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Letter to Lonnae- I LOVE this book.--a Must Read for Black Women of Today, May 22, 2006

By	Kelley C. - See all my reviews

Hello Lonnae,
Thank you again for signing my copy of "I'm Every Woman" at the Professional Business Women of California conference at the Moscone center. I really enjoyed your perspective on motherhood and the ever-elusive perfect mother load balance. When you signed my copy, I promised to write to you if I enjoyed the book. So here's my attempt to keep that promise.
I love the book.
From the first page I have been glued to every beautiful sentence. This book is art. Your story is my story. (Down to my Dona Rose who keeps up with my baseboards and babies.) Thank you for telling it in a format more poetic, musical and thoughtful than I ever knew possible. As an attorney, mommy and wife of a very in love husband I appreciate your candor and wit applied to our shared history and future. Thank you for taking the time to research and recite your findings and insights in the proper context. It brings a real depth to the work.

As I have read the book I have laughed, nodded in agreement, said "amen" and even welled up. I too see my ancestors smirk and raise a brow at what I often shamelessly feel is my hard life; To wit: my commute (to a great job), my children (healthy, robust and off the charts intellectually), and of course my husband (who loves to love me). Poor me. Right. Thanks for helping me keep it real.

As the direct descendent of a lovely tall black woman who was "kept" by a white man in the deep south of the early 1900's, I enjoyed your gift of a new understanding of Great Grandma's real power over her situation. She was not a victim of circumstance, but rather a well supplied provider of a good life for 6 chillen' who could pass if they wanted to. Forget about daddy documentation, this sister knew what mattered in a world where black sons were routinely hung. And I thank God that He pushed her blood through my veins in the form of tall stature and caramel skin in a family of short light bright women!

As a sorority member, I am pulled by my inability to fulfill my own club lady duties...but I am so thankful that you provided the context and validated the historical significance of the sisterly bond (and the right to hold up a pinky when sipping on my pricey tea in my large home). I hope to make the salmon pink and apple green a larger part of my life soon. I keep promising...but children, exhaustion and errands keep taking priority.

Perhaps one of the things I appreciate most about your story is knowing that I'm not alone. I'm not the only mother still in love with LL Cool J and everything he is and was. I'm not the only mother chagrined that she can't watch rap videos or listen to most contemporary hip hop anymore---even alone---and even though I know my 21 year old self would have been singing "lemme see yo grill daddy" at full voice! (yes...I too memorized my share of NWA and Too Short lyrics), And forget about modern commercial TV for my children---have you seen a Bratz doll? Please. Now, I was a SERIOUS Vanity fan. And learned to live with Appolonia since she did do an "ok" job of portraying my girl in the movie...but my daughter will NEVER hear anything like that in my home--and buy a doll wearing miss Vanity's cast off's? I don't think so.

I love your poem on page 15. A very nice remix on a classic. The line about the children is especially personal since they pull on me the most. I can hardly imagine someone wrestling my 4 year old from my arms--even during the times when I wish my mother was here so I could GIVE her away. Giving her away as a neatly wrapped and gleaming present becomes especially likely when I'm wrestling with her hair so foreign to my own soft curls. Her "out not down" hair (p. 75) is our bonding zone and seals in our hierarchy quite nicely. Poor baby. And don't trip on "sleep" for a verb girl, as I am sure my son would say mine is "yell". (p. 79)

And on page 20 -last paragraph-you SAID IT! Slave women get me out of bed on the regular. And I secretly giggle with them as I sit in my fancy office directing traffic and expressing myself. Imagine! Oh how I hope they can see us now. Don't you?

Thank you for sharing the intimacies about your marriage. As a woman who committed to her own husband as a tender 23 year old...I agree that waiting 'til 30 is some of the best advice seasoned women can give. (I didn't take it either and you KNOW I had to have that boy.) But we're making it work and learning to appreciate the nuances of real love. And I AM taking your date night advice. Because my growth is more meaningful if I have him along for the journey. Even if it requires a bit of tension as I stretch into the real grown up me.

Thank you for the story about Kim. My 10 year old sister has a wonderful and White momma. And I've already told my Dad that she's all mine at 13 "so's we can have us a talk". I am so looking forward to holding her hand as she traverses the real exploration of her race and sex and makes her own decisions. Your loving expressions about your cousin are inspirational. And I have my "Go Back" sign ready and waiting for my own sister. (p. 89)

I could go on and on -- and will if you let me (feel free to call or write back if you like), but mostly I wanted to offer heartfelt gratitude and sincere kudos for a job well done.

Girl, you did it. You did it for all of us educated (and not) married (and not) mothers (or hopeful) women who struggle with all the in-betweens. In-between classes, races, political lines, careers, passions and priorities. You have grabbed the baton of oral history and put it to paper in a fierce way---illuminating the joy and sorrow of generations in a sheath of pure God-given talent for the written word. Praise God for you.

I thank you and I honor you. If you ever want a reader on an early edition of book number 2---PLEASE call me. That's all for now. Two munchkins are waiting patiently for one last kiss. And a half-finished ice cream cone is in the freezer. Oh, and a dance class instructor awaiting my call for registration.
-Kelley C.

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:

4.0 out of 5 stars From where we were to where I am now as a black woman in America, March 13, 2006

By	AC Rice (Southern California) - See all my reviews

Drawing on historical figures that are well-known and little known, plus women of her own family, O'Neal Parker has written a wonderful book that brings me from where we were to where I am now as a black woman in America. Working and married, (although not with children), I found each chapter had a lesson to teach and offered comfort in knowing I am not alone.

O'Neal Parker's thoughtful research in bringing us black women of history is especially welcome.

Excellent work that I will share with my friends, both black and not.