User Reviews
Rating: really liked it
Beautiful. Powerful. Heartbreaking. Relevant. I am not a poetry person. In fact honestly the last poetry book I read was probably Shel Silverstein in the fifth grade. This book is a far cry from Where the Sidewalk Ends. Jasmine Mans words evoke so much emotion; as a woman, as a mother, as a daughter, as a friend, as a survivor of abuse. Jasmine beautifully expresses her feelings and thoughts on a wide array of topics: race, hairstyles, religion, expectations, rape culture, Family, politics, sexuality pop-culture. Each poem touched my soul in a different way.
Jasmine is a spoken word poet and listening to her poetry elevates it to an entirely new level. I will pop the link two her YouTube video below, but I strongly encourage you to pick up the audiobook. I pre-ordered it and listen to it yesterday. The audiobook left me speechless (and if you know me that’s really hard to do). If you listen to or read one poetry book this year, this decade, this century, make it this one! https://youtu.be/AC1wGvPnTl8
*** Big thank you to Berkley for my gifted copy of this book. All opinions are my own. ***
Rating: really liked it
There is nothing as emblematic of Black American girlhood than bold and kitschy plastic barrettes, and there is no subject I adore more than Black American girlhood, so I was absolutely elated when I saw the cover of this poetry collection.
But with
Black Girl, Call Home, Jasmine Mans is doing much more than celebrating to Black girlhood (though she is certainly doing that too). She is also considering what it means to be a Black mother raising a Black child; the poems in this collection at times frame this as an ethical issue. What is the moral designation assigned to bringing a child into a world that is fraught with systemic oppression. She is also considering our collective ancestors. “A Pouring Thing” is about an enslaved woman being used both chattel and the component of an experiment on reproductive health. At the end of the reading, I felt raw and empty as though something had been ripped from me. In “Refrain: Ledger of Women Patients Sterilized Without Consent,” the poem is simply a list of women, Black, white, and indigenous, who were admitted to the hospital for one thing and were forcibly sterilized just because.
Mans’ use of form is phenomenal, “Missing Girls” is presented as a word search but within the jumble of letters are the names of girls who’ve gone missing. I think the form itself is perhaps saying quite a bit about effort, entertainment, invisibility, and the sheer and overwhelming number of murdered and missing girls. Also her ability to marry the sort of poetry that is heavy on abstractions and the sort of poetry that is vivid in its imagery and skilled in use of poetic devices beguiles me.
This collection is ripe with topics for discussion. One of my favorite poems in the collection, “Whitney: Hologram” goes beyond the creepiness of hologram concerts and encourages us to consider how we live in a society that views people as commodities rather than beings deserving of compassion, even more so for any person of any or multiple marginalized communities. There are also many poems on Kanye West that explore Black women’s tendency towards forgiveness (sometimes instead of accountability) when it comes to people who may not yet deserve it, trans-panic and
“crazy” women, being both Black and queer, and so much more.
I want to liken my experience reading this collection to eating a bag of potato chips. One moment the bag is full and the next moment your hands are dusted with salt and the bag is empty. And though you kind of wish there were a few more chips left in the bag, you are both satiated and left with a dull ache in your belly to remind you of salt, vinegar, and that mesmerizing crunch.
Thanks to NetGalley and Berkley Publishing Group for providing me with an ARC and an opportunity to read this collection in exchange for an honest review!
Rating: really liked it
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I'm really picky when it comes to poetry, and since a lot of the stuff coming out is written in the vein of Amanda Lovelace or Rupi Kaur, I haven't been picking up a lot of contemporary poetry books. This collection is everything I love about poetry, though: it's personal, fiery, and full of visceral imagery; it gathers up ideas like beads on a string, weaving childhood nostalgia with the way that pop-cultural icons can sell out and betray us and rallying for the Black Lives Matter movement.
My favorite portions were the unstructured vignettes about her life growing up. Like, there's one about children playing with Nerf guns, and how that childhood innocence and play mirrors the far more unsettling reality of American's lethal fascination with guns. There's a passage about all the pain that goes into managing Black hair, and how it's a love-hate bonding experience between women. She talks about her struggle to balance her identity as a member of the LGBT+ with her Black identity, and how much rejection from the latter community hurt (especially if it came from "good" intentions).
This is just a really solid, really interesting collection of poems. I bought it because I used to have some of those hard plastic barrettes the cover model is wearing when I was a little girl, and I was curious to learn more about the author and her childhood. And while I did get that, I also got so much more.
4 stars
Rating: really liked it
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3 ½ stars (rounded up)
“A woman stretched her body for me, and I have no words to describe her in wholeness, but without shame, I want you to know her. My mother.”
I have said (or ‘written’) it before but I don’t feel particularly qualified to review poetry collections. This is why I am planning on reading more poetry in 2022. Hopefully, by the end of the year, I will figure out what kind of poetry I like and why. The last poetry collection I read,
Time is a Mother, was, in my inexpert eyes, very much all flash and no substance.
Black Girl, Call Home manages to have both. The poems included, which vary in length, structure, and style, present readers with a hybrid and vibrant collection. I know descriptors such as raw, powerful, and timely are somewhat clichèd, especially when used the describe the work authored by poc or lgbtq+ ppl, but at this point in time, I cannot think of better words to use for
Black Girl, Call Home. Girlhood, queerness, Blackness, daughterhood, belonging, are the recurring subject matters in Jasmine Mans’ poems. She writes candidly of complex mother-daughter relationships, of her sexuality, of her coming of age, of growing up Black, female, and queer in America, of reconciliation, of identity, of grief, of love. Many of her poems also read like indictments to the systemic and institutional racism that are still very much prevalent in the 21st century. She writes about the physical and emotional violence experienced by Black ppl, about the fear mothers feel over their children growing up Black and/or queer in America, about violence against women, about Black hair, about missing girls, about Michelle Obama and Serana, about social media, about God, and about being a lesbian (“1,000 Questions on Gender Roles for a Lesbian” certainly hit close too home). Some of the poems last a few lines, others a few pages. Some have a staccato-quality to them, others adopt a more narrative approach, for example when she gives us a glimpse into her childhood. We also get lists and crosswords, that are not exactly poetry but are nevertheless striking in that they confront us with the names of girls who have gone missing or the names of women who have been sterilized without their consent. The only one that didn’t work for me was the one on periods. I just don’t ‘vibe’ with how periods are more or less mythologised, especially since not all women have them.
Some of the poems in this collection gave me goosebumps, and I believe that is a sign that
Black Girl, Call Home is a truly hard-hitting collection. While much of what Mans writes about is equal parts saddening and maddening, her poems retained a lightness and lucidity that made it impossible for me to leave them unfinished. Whenever I started one of her poems I was unable to look away. Her voice demanded to be heard, so I listened.
I thoroughly recommend this collection, especially to those who, unlike me, are more passionate about poetry.
Rating: really liked it
This book full of poems was absolutely beautiful. Easily relatable with poems about black hair, what a Black Mother expects of her Black Daughter, and what seeing Black women in the media means, etc.
I'm so happy that I read this.
Rating: really liked it
This is a really good collection. I feel like I got it. It’s approachable. It’s funny. It’s serious. It’s playful. It’s a force.
Rating: really liked it
Black Girl, Call Home was the eighth book in my October poetry project. It was my first time reading Jasmine Mans, and I was impressed—the comparison to Gwendolyn Brooks is no exaggeration. There are poems that appear to be personal narratives and poems that deal with larger historical events and cultural issues, and Mans does all of these well. My only complaint is that the book is much longer than most poetry collections—more than 200 pages—and there are definitely stretches that felt, to me, like padding. If those had been left out, the overall impact of this book would have been incredible. As it is, the length detracted from my overall reading experience, and for that reason I'm giving
Black Girl, Call Home four stars instead of five. Still, I'll look forward to Mans's next book.
Rating: really liked it
4 1/2 to 5 stars
Rating: really liked it
This book REALLY made me feel. 🥺 I would not consider myself passionate about poetry however a lot of it has been recommended to me lately and I’m really starting to love it. I can always appreciate ANYTHING black. Of course I also find a lot of the stories to be relatable. A read for everyone! Not just for black women. She talks about trans women, black men there are some homophobic slurs in here as well as rape just incase that’s a trigger for anyone. Nonetheless it’s special for black women and I appreciate that. When it was recommended to me and I looked it up the first thing I loved about it was the cover. It’s beautiful! It’s definitely a quick read however when it comes to poetry I like to take my time and I reread a lot of the poems. So instead of one day I finished it in two. Will definitely be looking for more to read from Jasmine Mans!!! Nerf guns christmas 2019 Tulsa, Secrets, Gravity to God, Searching for a feeling, Your God & A friendly death. Were some of my personal favs. Come through sis!!!!!! 👏🏽
Rating: really liked it
It's a spiritual experience reading the work of an author who puts their whole heart on the page. Where you can almost see the vestige of escaped tears attempting to penetrate the paper. You can almost feel their breathe hitch as the writer recalls a memory that is both triggering and inspirational, unlocking a flood of words— like new wine. This collection is full of history and tradition, the memories, regrets, joy, hopes, and prayers of generations of Black women. Jasmine Mans is one to look out for, this was phenomenal.
Rating: really liked it
Yes Black Girl Yessss! What a collection!
Rating: really liked it
Book 95 of 2021
Black Girl, Call Home by Jasmine Mans is a powerful and hard hitting collection of poems. This book covers some deep and dark subject matters, that really need to be talked about.
It was so relatable and refreshing, but also very heartbreaking and a gut punch. The author starts with poems relating to childhood memories that evoke nostalgia, just like the cover does. From there, she delves into more serious themes.
She discusses homophobia, from her mother as well as random strangers. She also discusses rape, rape culture, and being a survivor. Despite the title being a call to black girls, she also examines issues relating to being a black boy, and being trans. Police brutality is also explored in this collection.
A part of this collection also examines physical abuse in relationships. Some of the poems also talk about the loss of a loved one.
The language used in this collection is so beautiful and lyrical, it lures you in and talks about these serious issues in a way that is both jarring and soothing. I loved the audiobook, which was narrated by the author. There was so much emotion in her performance and it really tugged at my heartstrings.
My only problem with this collection, and it was a big one, was the Kanye West part and her words about Kim. It really rubbed me the wrong way.
Overall, this was such a beautiful book and I highly recommend it!
Rating: really liked it
You should definitely be aware of some content warnings when going into this: homophobic slurs, racism, mention of Birmingham bombing, gun violence, rape/assault, familial death, parental resentment, cancer, human trafficking, violence against transwomen, trauma, separation of families at the border, forced sterilization without consent, lesbophobia, mentions of sex
I knew as soon as I saw this cover that I was going to love this poetry collection. The cover itself is so gorgeous and unapologetically Black that it was inevitable. The poems themselves spoke to so many important instances in Black culture, while also tackling items that the Black community often avoids discussing. From sexuality, to God, to getting your hair pressed in the kitchen, to rape to Whitney Houston's impact, I don't think there was anything in this collection that didn't speak to me. While I can't personally relate to every experience, I can absolutely attest that each collection touched me in some way because you'd be hard pressed not to find someone who at least knows a Black woman who has experienced these moments or thoughts. Every poem felt extremely personal, reflective, and just beautifully written.
Rating: really liked it
Jasmine Mans’ 𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡, 𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙃𝙤𝙢𝙚 doesn’t read like poetry, but more like a necessary sit-down with an older cousin that needs to love on me hard because America been shittin’ hard on Black girls and women. I’m obedient so I pick up my copy, with my highlighter and pen in hand, and we connect. Mans makes you have an inner dialogue with her. If there’s not a call and response, then this collection wasn’t written for you. There’s a rhythm and blues etched in the lines that pulls you into the scenes she creates. You are pulled into that memory and feel the moments in tandem—you are one. Mans is calling you home figuratively.
𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡, 𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙃𝙤𝙢𝙚 is a strong collection filled with poetry that different readers can relate to or enjoy. But, to me, they feel like love letters to Black girls and women on a journey to healing, understanding, and self-identity. I really felt the following three:
“Birmingham”
* I listened to this poem as I was driving to Birmingham to attend a concert with my girlfriends so it hit differently. It made me very emotional to know I was passing by the church later that evening to get to our venue. Mans writes in the poem: “Sometimes I just be thinking maybe God was too busy trying to protect martin to think about us, I ain’t never ask for that man’s dream.”
“Secrets”
* It alerts us of how we hide our pain, our wounds, and the betrayals of our body. If the world refuses to protect Black women, then we are the only purveyors of Black womanhood. The world will not kill us. We will shame and name our abusers and reclaim our bodies. Protect Black women at all costs.
“She Doesn’t Look Like Rape”
* It shows us that women are not in control of their bodies and are shamed into thinking they are sexual deviants for existing. The speaker states, “She won’t call it rape because she knows her body can handle this type of pain. She will rewrite the story before it’s even over.” Women are strong creatures, right? Other people can support her so the rape can be tucked away and she can just discount it as another trauma. Rape culture lives another day!
I loved this collection. It will forever be connected to me and feel like home.
Rating: really liked it
These little poems pack a punch straight to the gut and a hard slap to the face. A serious wake up call, particularly to the young Black female experience, that doesn’t hold anything back.
