What is it to hold a life in one’s hands in the form of a book, of a selected works of a writer, the entirety of their writing life nestled as comfortably in the hand as if holding the writer’s hand, ghostly as it might be, along this journey. Such seem to be the case of the Sinister Wisdom series Sapphic Classics, whose website lists a dozen titles, a dozen women’s lives memorialized, archived for readers beyond their own lifetimes. While any selected works of a deceased writer does offer up a life’s work in memento mori, the authors represented in this series might have otherwise been erased from our cultural conversations. A Siri overview defines sapphic classic as “influential works of literature featuring lesbian or sapphic relationships, themes and characters” and goes on to cite Radclyffe Hall and Rita Mae Brown.
Once, it might have been that there were whole areas of scholarship devoted to the greater lights in sapphic studies, but such programs are under demolition now. There are those who feel these losses deeply, who hope to rebuild after the dark ages, and such series as this one will again become foundational.
This life we have in hand is that of Anita Cornwell, Black Lesbian in White America and Other Writings (2025) and edited by Briona Simone Jones. In the foreword, Jones describes Cornwell as
At a time when she was the only out black lesbian writing [...] in the 1950s, she named how pervasive sexism and homophobia were [...]; at a time when she was the only black lesbian in the women’s movement in the 1970s, she cited their antiblackness [...] ; at a time when she longed for connection [...] the chokehold of Christianity and the myopic belief [...]not only stifled their relation to each other, but also made the critique of black patriarchy inconceivable (9)
The text also has an introduction made by Cornwell in 1981 as the work was originally from another small press and is now held in estate. In that introduction, Cornwell mentions the central section of this work, and interview with Audre Lorde. It is quite possible that some readers ought to house this work for that alone.
Cornwell’s introduction also mentions the fourth section in the text Lament for Two Bamboozled Sisters wherein writing “The fate of the womyn [Cornwell’s spelling] may strike some as being too stark, but i think most will have to agree that that reality is still a possibility for all womyn in a patriarchal society regardless of race or class” (12). This sequence is told in a series of letters, first to Bonnie, with the closing of the sequence to Bonnie’s daughter Chrisse. The letters are an exhortation of love to a friend:
Consequently, for the sake of all those nameless silent Sisters who have been sacrificed on the altar of male supremacy throughout history, don’t let your life be added to the list [...]
We Sisters must save ourselves. The sisterhood is Powerful. So Power to the Sisterhood (141)
The letter sequence continues with a break-up letter of some detail that includes
“But I fail to understand why you think that racism of some white womyn should make me want to endure the blatant sexism of most black men. Or any men for that matter. Which is not that racism is any less evil than sexism[...] (145).
There is another letter to Bonnie, written while on the way to the visit and in response to a phone call. After this, the sequence has the two letters to Bonnie’s daughter, Chrissie:
“Your letter, coming as it did on the fourth anniversary of your mother’s death, has rendered my pen well-nigh immobile” (153)
The reader becomes aware of having been privy to an entire life told in six letters—a terrifying compression of our lived experiences—yet, if not for those letters, that life would be, yes, another of the “nameless, silent Sisters” about whom Cornwell says that “And I have been driven to the point of madness [...]when witnessing such human degradation” (141). That the original publication dates of these pieces are from 1971-1977 speaks to a conversation now both a half a century ago and painfully contemporary.
While some readers might find Cornwell’s insistence on philosophical consistency and egalitarian rights to be uncomfortable, or the romances on the excepts from the autobiography to not be resonant to anyone in any dating scene, or even that the work would have otherwise been out of print and thus lacks contemporary market appeal, let us remember that lost books are lost lives. While Cornwell’s literary accomplishment is obvious in the letters section alone, the wide ranging nature of the work deserves an equally wide-ranging readership.
Su Zi is a writer, poet and essayist who produces a handmade chapbook series called Red Mare. She has been a contributor to GAS from back when it was called Gypsy Art Show, more than a decade ago.
Check out her author page on Amazon.