Happy Birthday, Alice Walker!

About 15 years ago, Barnes and Noble had an in-store promotion that featured several large illustrations of the author Alice Walker. I grabbed one for myself and for years, it hung over my writing desk. When I joined a traveling circus after grad school, I hung the poster in my bunk for inspiration on days when I didn't feel like writing. Sometimes the crew guys would come by and notice the poster:

Crew Guy: Cool picture. That you?
thisblackgirl: No, that's Alice Walker.
Crew Guy: That your real name? (sometimes people in the circus have their real names and their "show" names. Mine was "that black girl with the computer.")
thisblackgirl: No that's her real name. She's a famous author and poet.
Crew Guy: She a writer?
thisblackgirl: Yep.
Crew Guy: You a writer.
thisblackgirl: Yep.
Crew Guy: Sure that ain't you?

Whenever someone online asks me which celebrity I most resemble, my answer is always "Alice Walker". It could be the glasses, the locks, the generally serene countenance or even the pen/book in hand, but I think it's more than that. I like to think that there some sort of ineffable quality that all black female literary writers possess. It's a certain grace, a certain style, a certain wisdom tapped from some ancient source of the Divine feminine.

I especially like to think that on days like today, when I feel neither graceful, stylish, nor wise. But whenever I read Alice Walker's work, hear her speak, or even just see her photo, a strangely comforting feeling comes over me and says, "It's okay. Deep inside of you is every story ever told from the beginning of time. Take your pen and let the words flow." Alice Walker is one of my all-time favorite muses.

I hope she gets extra flowers on her birthday cake today.