Black Motherhood in the Rodney King Era—Has Anything Changed?
In the spring of 1992, I was a new mother of a beautiful baby boy. His father and I were living in Detroit and happily struggling with 3 a.m. feedings and diaper changes. I obsessed over not being able to distinguish my baby’s “feed me” cries from his “I’m wet” cries. In the midst of…
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