Rebecca Carroll

Dec 7, 2024 | wearethemeteor.com | Rebecca Carroll

In the summer of 1992, three books by Black women writers–Toni Morrison, Alice Walker, and Terry McMillan—made the New York Times bestseller list at the same time. I knew it had to be a first (), and to me, a recent college graduate and aspiring writer, it felt like a divine intervention. Two years later, inspired by that moment, I published a collection of interviews called I Know What the Red Clay Looks Like: The Voice and Vision of Black Women Writers.

Dec 3, 2024 | haymarketbooks.org | Mahogany L. Browne |Rebecca Carroll |Salamishah Tillet

Thirty years after its original publication, this newly imagined edition brings the work and musings of fifteen Black literary luminaries in conversation with a new generation of writers and readers. The first edition of I Know What the Red Clay Looks Like, published in 1994, remains an essential text for readers of Black feminist literature in all genres.

Jul 25, 2024 | ctmirror.org | Rebecca Carroll

Amaia is a 17-year-old student whose family moved to Hartford from Puerto Rico two years ago. When she started school, she worried about not having books and supplies. Her family needed money for food and to live in the apartment. When her period came, she had no money to buy Maxi pads and didn’t even know how or where to buy them. She missed a lot of school. Embarrassed, Amaia felt students laughing at her. Amaia wanted an everyday school life. On Sept.

Jun 13, 2024 | wearethemeteor.com | Julianne Escobedo Shepherd |Rebecca Carroll

Hi Meteor readers,This is my confession: the other night, I stayed up until 3:30 a.m. to witness NYC workers use two giant cranes to erect a $32 million, Italian-steel pedestrian bridge outside my apartment. Infrastructure, it’s amazing! It’s expensive! I really wish someone would fund my local library!Anyway! Today we’ve got Rebecca Carroll in conversation with author Glynnis MacNicol on her new book.

Jun 6, 2024 | wearethemeteor.com | Rebecca Carroll

BY REBECCA CARROLLFour years after George Floyd’s murder, I realized that I simply do not have it in me to write another piece about Black pain, patterns and cycles of violent racism, and the endless trauma that continues to course through our bodies and bloodlines. I’ve literally written hundreds of them. I’m tired. And it feels like nothing ever changes.