I most enjoyed Cole’s chapters on dignity, place, wonder, belonging, rest and joy, but I needed to read those on fear, lament, rage, justice and liberation. Both authors stretched me and made me consider my own assumptions as a white woman born into privilege. Both had grandmothers as the major maternal figure (with Cole’s mother strikingly absent from her book). Both authors come from mixed-race backgrounds and both had rape in the family experience – the trauma of Black American women too often silenced. I read her book at the same time as reading I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou (Random House, 1969), which I didn’t plan but I found the two echoed some similar themes from different time periods. Her book is best read in community – which I believe is what she’d advocate (considering she dedicates a chapter to community: ‘belonging’). I highlighted many lines, and wish I could discuss this work in a book-club setting, for I’d love to hear what others think. She’s not demanding agreement, but welcoming us to think, ponder and add our own unique voices.Ĭole writes from a Black American woman’s perspective and, although at times I felt she was reacting to white evangelicalism in the States, overall I found her viewpoints compelling. I didn’t always agree with her, but that’s part of the beauty of her invitation to delve into these topics. She hits the cultural pulse of what many people are grappling with these days, contributing to the discussion with poetic prose.

Cole Arthur Riley has written a searching, thought-provoking book of what she calls “contemplative storytelling”.

I heard a lot of buzz about This Here Flesh and, having read it, I can understand why.

This here flesh cole arthur riley