The House of Eve (104)
When Eleanor first appeared to me, she was full of rage and desperate to have a child. I had recently watched Toni Morrison’s The Pieces I Am documentary, in which she says that she didn’t know that Black folks separated themselves by color until she stepped foot on Howard University’s campus in 1949 from Lorain, Ohio. I started wondering: What would a woman like Eleanor do when she found herself married to the son of one of the wealthiest families in town but could not give him a child? What would her desperation to fit in cause her to do?
Shimmy was born from my mother’s memory. She told me that when she was a girl living in North Philadelphia, she grocery shopped on 31st Street, where most of the shops were owned by Jewish people. I read an article by Allen Meyers, who wrote Strawberry Mansion: The Jewish Community of North Philadelphia, which confirmed that Black and Jewish people lived in close proximity, and through goods and commerce engaged in everyday life.
When I first start writing a novel, I often feel like I have all these beautiful Christmas ornaments, but I need a tree to hang them on. After a drive to Washington, D.C., to see the site of the Florence Crittenton Home, a home for unwed girls and women, I got the goose bumps that tell me that I’m making a connection with voices that want their story told. Marginalized voices that have been silenced. I learned that these homes were started for prostitutes, fallen women and wayward girls, but when I looked more closely, I learned that the houses had been filled with girls who merely had sex and ended up pregnant. Sometimes they were in love, sometimes raped, but no matter what, they were shamed. I had found my tree.
I’m drawn to writing historical fiction because I feel charged to tell the truth about American history, whether grim or happy. A few people who appear in the story are based on real-life heroes. One of these is Dorothy Porter Wesley, a librarian, biographer and curator who over the span of forty years built the Moorland-Spingarn Research Center at Howard University into a world-class research collection. When she realized that the Dewey decimal system had only two numbers for Black history, one for slavery and one for colonization, she created space in the system for African-American productivity by classifying the work by genre and author. The We Rise program that Ruby attended was based on an initiative called Tell Them We Rise, which was designed by Ruth Wright Hayre, the first African-American woman to teach full-time at a high school in Philadelphia. This program allowed 116 students selected in sixth grade to attend college for free if they stayed in school. Louise D. Clements-Hoff, the artist who introduced Ruby to art, was a Philadelphia painter and educator. Georgia Mae, Ruby’s mute suitemate at the Magdalene home, was also based on a real character. In 1959, Georgia Mae Rowe gave birth at the age of fourteen to her second child in the St. Gerard’s Maternity Home in Richmond, Virginia. She had become pregnant by a twenty-seven-year-old white man who was married with children. Georgia Mae requested that her son be given to an aunt, but because her son was fair-skinned and her aunt dark-skinned, the request was denied.
I wrote this book for women like Georgia Mae, my grandmother Yvonne Clair, my great-grandmother Addie Murray and every woman who was forced to surrender her child either because of race, age, sexual abuse, shame or coercion. You are not alone. The House of Eve is for you.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank God for bestowing His calling and purpose on my life loud and clear, and making me brave enough to walk by faith even when I am afraid. To my mother, Nancy Murray, for letting me root around in your history, exposing family scars and giving me my stories. I have needed all of it and all of you. To my father, Tyrone Murray, for your love and guidance and constant example of strength and family; your belief in me is my super power. To my second mom, Francine Cross Murray, for your advice, wisdom, and always keeping me on my toes; you complete our family and I love you. My ancestors for constantly watching over me: William and Geraldine Murray, Mary Meadows, Yvonne Clair and Gene DeShazor, Nadine and Resce DeShazor, Tommy and Lucy Getter—take care of our PJ, who I miss dearly. To my super sibs and first loves, Tauja, Nadiyah, and Talib Murray. Qualee and Quasann Abram, Armani, Aarick, Devin, Deuce and Darren Johnson: you make my heart sing. Pacita Perera for being my guiding light and first reader always. Glenn Sr., David and Marise Johnson, and Luqman Abram, for being the best in-laws a girl could want. The entire Murray clan, especially our patriarch, Uncle Edgar, and matriarchs Aunt Frances and Aunt Sally, and all of my beautiful cousins, especially Tina Bembery, for keeping us together. To cousin Mary Beverly and Aunt Constance Henderson, for being our pillars. I have the best friends on the planet; thank you all for your constant love and support and big hugs to the Midlo chapter of J&J. To Claudia Bates Physioc and all the beautiful Belles for teaching me how to save myself from drowning.
My dearest agent and friend, Cherise Fisher, for your fierce protection and our deep connection. With you by my side, all things are not only possible but inevitable. Wendy Sherman for having the vision and wisdom that keeps us all on track. All good things from here! To the best editor duo in the land, Carina Guiterman and Lashanda Anakwah, it means so much that I can trust you with my heart. Thank you both for shepherding this novel to its best. Hannah Bishop, I’ve never had it so good, girl, you slay, and Emily Varga, thanks for teaching me what I’m worth and making sure everyone else knows too. Stephen Bedford and Alyssa diPierro, thank you for the best marketing plan I have ever received. Jonathan Karp and Tim O’Connell, I’m so grateful to you both for rallying the troops and providing the perfect title change. Together, you’ve made me feel like I have found a home. The best is yet to come.