So when I was a little girl, a book sat on the coffee table in our living room, just steps from our front door.
And the living room is a first impression.
Ours had white carpet and a curio of my mother's most treasured collectibles.
That room represented the sacrifices of generations gone by who, by poverty or by policy, couldn't afford a curio of collectibles let alone a middle class house to put them in.
That room had to stay perfect.
But I would risk messing up that perfect room every day just to see that book.
On the cover sat a woman named Septima Clark.
She sat in perfect profile with her face raised to the sky.
She had perfect salt-and-pepper cornrows platted down the sides of her head, and pride and wisdom just emanated from her dark skin.
Septima Clark was an activist and an educator, a woman after whom I'd eventually model my own career.
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