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    The Sun InterviewBy Naomi PittsStandards of CareRolonda Donelson on Bias and Anti-Science Attitudes in Medicine

    The reason Black women were used to develop the field of gynecology was because they were no more than property. They weren’t seen as people; they were just seen as things. The controlling of Black women’s bodies started with chattel slavery, but it continues today.

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    Readers WriteBy Our ReadersMilk

    Pumped for an infant, spilled at the dinner table, used as a tear gas antidote

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May 1977

issue 27 cover
Departments

Editor’s Note

May 1977

issue 27 cover
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories

Another Appetite

It is April and the cold wind shears through Spring, sharp and strident, cutting away the warmth that had been nuzzling the earth. The daffodils have been shredded and the azaleas’ fragile blooms are scissored to limp bits of faded rag.

ByJudy Bratten
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories

A Note On James Dickey

I found in James Dickey not only these allegedly “Southern” themes but also something else — that universal struggle between the spirit and the flesh. However grotesque his imagination was, this man, I felt, had more to say about the matter than any other living poet.

ByRichard Williams
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories

Of God And My Father

A Memoir

I sat on the couch less to read than to be enveloped in that atmosphere. I was too old, by then, to sit with him in his chair, feel the warmth of his breath on my head, smell the faint odor of his sweat, but being just a few feet away was almost as comforting.

ByDavid Guy
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories

Too Old To Rock And Roll, Too Young To Die

Mike looked at me quizzically while Greg Wells, another WQDR disc jockey (or “jock,” as they say in the business), delivered this devastating insight: “Well, you know what it is, Dave . . . You’re just getting old.”

ByDavid Searls
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories

Val Staples Enterprises Announces Distillate Of Rainbow

Distillate of Rainbow is an ancient and natural remedy for the relief of tension and nagging worries.

ByVal Staples
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories

Shadow Dancing

When Sy and I were consoling each other about life’s turbulence, he pantomimed our boyhood baseball heroes rescuing homerun balls from going over the centerfield fence. “Catch it gracefully.” Catch this pain, frustration, hunger, craziness, gracefully.

ByLeaf Diamant
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories

. . . and not a drop to drink. . . .

The Cane Creek Controversy

Coy Armstrong moved to Cane Creek from Wilkes County in 1922, when he was eight years old. He has walked his land thousands of times, and probably knows Cane Creek better than anyone.

ByHal Richman
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories

Inside Out

A Spiritual Manual For Prison Life

The anger will go through; there will be no place in you it can hang its hat. The sticky thing in you is your model of who you think you are. But if you think of yourself as a soul going to God, then other people’s criticism either of your personality or of your body has no real effect on you.

ByRam Dass,Bo Lozoff
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories

Cain’s Fate

Book Review

Cheever’s narrative details the later history. It tells the story of the wanderer, the outcast, the man cursed from the ground. It is a story not just of the fate of Cain, but also of the society which condemns him.

ByDavid Guy
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories

Journal

And when our eyes met, you said silently to me, don’t remind me, not as a reprimand but because these moments, this coming together, was a last blooming lily which I should not point at but rather unfurl my own petals in harmony with yours.

ByElizabeth Rose Campbell
Fiction

Six Stories

The life insurance salesman will be here soon. He will put it to him bluntly: he has responsibilities. In his case, there are photographs of the funeral. He is a handsome corpse. He feels flattered.

BySy Safransky
Fiction

Spies Don’t Kill Each Other

Fletcher E. Driscoll felt the day getting warmer. He was in the back seat of a Land Rover, blindfolded. It must be noon, he thought, bouncing along what seemed to be a crude jungle road.

ByKarl Grossman
Photography

Photographs By John Toms

The photographs in this selection are available as a PDF only. Click here to download.

ByJohn Toms
Photography

Drawings By Carl Harp 126-516

Being is my every breath, the truth I bathe in; Reality is my all even when it tears at me behind these walls. I will not look away, I have seen all the games, and though I am not perfect (who is?) I am not needing those things for they are not lasting.

ByCarl Harp
Poetry

Selected Poems

ByJimmy Santiago Baca
Poetry

Falling

ByJames Dickey
Poetry

Selected Poems

ByJeffery Beame
Poetry

[With melon and sack,]

ByNancy Dunn
Poetry

I Want To See If Angels Come

ByElon G. Eidenier
Poetry

Selected Poems

ByDavid Bond

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