Rooted

I hope you enjoyed reading the Rooted questionnaire of artist and owner of Wolfe Studio Bebe Wolfe. Today, I’m happy to share my full conversation with Bebe just with paid subscribers. You can listen on Substack or via the Rooted podcast on Spotify (other podcasting platforms will only have the preview version). Our conversation meandered from Mississip…

L. Patri reads his essay "Less Than a Chicken," the latest for his column, "Chronicles from Parchman."

Despite some technical difficulties on my end, our book club discussion with Catherine Simone Gray about her debut memoir Proud Flesh was a delight. Catherine was warm and thoughtful, and our book club participants were so insightful with their questions. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for this group of wise, intellectual, and caring readers.

We cove…

Last week Beth Kander joined our book club—moderated by me and Rooted Community Editor Shira Muroff—to talk about her darkly comedic, genre-defying, and utterly original novel I Made It Out of Clay. Beth was charming and funny and generous. She shared how she wrote the first draft of the book in under a month (spoiler alert: lots of coffee). She also talked about the publishing pros and cons of writing a “genre-defying” book, and the research that went into creating a lore-worthy golem. And, as teased in the title, Beth also discussed standing up for her decision to write a female protagonist on the cusp of turning forty instead of, say, thirty. We love to see it! All in all, it was a fabulous discussion.

You can listen to these book club recordings in the Substack app, in your web browser, or on Spotify. Subscribe to the show on Spotify to get notifications when new episodes are released. Recorded book club conversations are only available to paid subscribers, but the live book club sessions will continue to be free and open to all readers.

Thank you, Beth! Thanks again to our partners: Mississippi Book Festival, Lemuria Books, and Friendly City Books. The team at Red Squared records and produces these discussions at their studio in The Hangar.

Plan ahead and check out our upcoming book club picks!

March 27: Proud Flesh: A Memoir of Motherhood, Intimate Violence, and Reclaiming Pleasure with author and Rooted contributor Catherine Simone Gray (REGISTER HERE!)

April: Come By Here with author Neesha Powell-Ingabire

May: No One Gets to Fall Apart with author Sarah LaBrie and moderator John Caleb Grenn

RED SQUARED is an award-winning, Black-owned video and film production company based in Jackson, Mississippi. We bring stories to life through documentaries, commercials, and live event coverage, with a deep commitment to Mississippi’s culture, history, and community. Subscribe to RED SQUARED for updates and behind-the-scenes stories.

Today I’m sharing my full recorded interview with Maude Schuyler Clay. This uncut version of our conversation is just for paid subscribers. You can also listen to the episode via the Rooted podcast on Spotify (other podcasting platforms will only have the preview version). Maude is a delightful storyteller, and throughout our conversation she shared anecdotes about the many Mississippi fiction writers she’s collaborated with over the years, including Lewis Nordan, Richard Ford, Brad Watson and Beth Ann Fennelly. She also reflected on her time in New York and some of her favorite moments with her artistic hero, Eudora Welty.

I hope you enjoy the conversation!

In December, author Max Hipp joined our book club to talk about his unforgettable collection of stories: What Doesn’t Kill You Opens Your Heart. Max revealed that the stories in this collection span twenty years of writing. As a musician, Max discussed the the distinct ways he approaches writing stories and writing songs. And he also shared his process of fictionalizing real places in his work.

Thank you, Max! Thanks again to our partners: Mississippi Book Festival, Lemuria Books, and Friendly City Books. The team at Red Squared records and produces these discussions at their studio in The Hangar.

Check out our upcoming book club picks!

February: I Made It Out of Clay with author and Rooted contributor Beth Kander

March: Proud Flesh: A Memoir of Motherhood, Intimate Violence, and Reclaiming Pleasure with author and Rooted contributor Catherine Simone Gray

April: Come By Here with author Neesha Powell-Ingabire

RED SQUARED is an award-winning, Black-owned video and film production company based in Jackson, Mississippi. We bring stories to life through documentaries, commercials, and live event coverage, with a deep commitment to Mississippi’s culture, history, and community. Subscribe to RED SQUARED for updates and behind-the-scenes stories.

Today I’m sharing the full interview with Curtis Wilkie, which we recorded back in October. We rarely put anything behind a paywall, but this uncut version of our conversation is just for paid subscribers. You can also listen to the episode via the Rooted podcast on Spotify (other podcasting platforms will only have the preview version, see comment belo…

Last month, best-selling author Meryl Wilsner joined our book club to talk about their sapphic soccer romance Cleat Cute. We had a buzzy chat about writing a character with ADHD, miscommunication as narrative device, and imagining a professional women’s soccer team based in New Orleans. Meryl even gave us some insight into what it was like to have their book optioned for TV by soccer superstars Megan Rapinoe and Sue Bird’s production company. And yes, they do keep a giant spreadsheet full of book ideas. This conversation was so much fun—I hope you enjoy it.

You can now listen to these recordings on Spotify or Apple Podcasts. Subscribe to the show to get notifications when new episodes are released.

Thank you, Meryl! Thanks again to our partners: Mississippi Book Festival, Lemuria Books, and Friendly City Books. The team at Red Squared records and produces these discussion at their studio in The Hangar.

Up next: we’ll be talking with Max Hipp about his collection of short stories What Doesn’t Kill You Opens Your Heart. Join the live discussion on Wednesday December 3, 2024.

RED SQUARED is an award-winning, Black-owned video and film production company based in Jackson, Mississippi. We bring stories to life through documentaries, commercials, and live event coverage, with a deep commitment to Mississippi’s culture, history, and community. Learn more at redsquared.co.

This is the seventh installment in the Chronicles from Parchman series, a monthly column by the talented and prolific writer, L. Patri, who has been incarcerated on Parchman’s death row for over thirty years. This week, Mr. Patri and I were able to record him reading his essay. Click “Listen to Post” if you want the audio experience.

For twenty-two years, all of my lawyers were white people. I always had a feeling that they did not understand, comprehend, and really did not give me their all in my fight for my life and freedom. I couldn’t relate to them wholeheartedly because I had it in my mind that they really were just white Mississippi people going through the motions to make it “look good.” After all, I was on death row for the killing of a white woman, so they secretly wanted me dead, too. But they could not just outright f**k over my case.

An attorney and client must have a clear and full understanding of what they are saying to each other. Cultural inflections in our tones of speech can cause some attorneys to lose the true meaning of what is being said. People like to think, and in many ways it’s true, that we are all American people. But Blacks and whites are two separate people inside America. That’s why you often hear the word “Ebonics” as a language. I speak fluent English, and if I choose, I speak proper English. You understand. “Cheerio,” “ole chap,” or “just shut it, fellow.”

But in the language I speak now, from deep in the southern states of Mississippi and Louisiana, I can tell you this line, “Ima be there no,” when you ask me if I’m coming somewhere with you. When you hear “No, I’m not going to be there,” I’m actually saying, “Yes, I will be there.” The “no” and “yes” are switched depending on who you’re talking to. Then there is the drawl we have where one word sounds like another, such as in a recent interview I did on a recording where I said “the NPD framed me for this crime…” but when they transcribed it, they wrote “EMPD.” So. People will get lost in the translation. When it comes to this legal language, I had to learn how to talk totally different so a lawyer didn’t miss what I was saying, and vice versa.

Over 85% of the men I’ve come to know on death row are either borderline or below mental comprehension for basic reading and writing. I was lucky in this regard. Even though I didn’t finish 12th grade, I continued to learn.

When I did get Black people to be my lawyers in 2016, it was by chance. JH, another man on death row and two cells away from me at the time, was also from Natchez, Mississippi. He had the same two white lawyers in federal district habeas corpus as I had, so they were back in Natchez on this guy’s case. Prosecutors were saying if they could do that for JH, then I didn’t need new lawyers for my state petition because these lawyers could do that for me, too. Lucky for me, the special judge I had saw it differently. That’s how I got two female Black lawyers. Even luckier for me, the entire team, including investigators and mitigation experts, were also Black!

I knew I had to go all out and break my silence if I was to survive this. The team knew my cultural upbringing. So they understood not just what I told them, but how I told it to them. The Black lawyer and the Black investigator had similar life experiences as myself, and I was able to grasp the language and catch the nuances.

The first truth and the hardest lesson that I learned about the U.S. judicial system when dealing with death row case appeals is this:

Truth: Justice is not equal or fair when it comes to the uneducated, mentally challenged, and poor.

Lesson: Those of us who are poor must depend on ourselves to seek out evidence to fight for our own justice. The rich can afford ignorance; the poor cannot.

Over 85% of the men I’ve come to know on death row are either borderline or below mental comprehension for basic reading and writing. I was lucky in this regard. Even though I didn’t finish 12th grade, I continued to learn. Even though I ran the streets and stayed in trouble, jail, and prison, I did have some level of quality education so that I could read, understand, and comprehend what I read.

One man, SP, has no ability to properly read and understand the legal paperwork that he receives. Only three days ago, I was coming downstairs from the top tier after getting ready to go outside and play “shoot-around” basketball, which is just a game of me moving from one spot to another spot, after each made shot, when someone told me that SP was looking for me. Because of his medical condition, SP doesn’t walk up and down the stairs from the bottom tier to the top tier, which is why he probably didn’t know I was inside my cell.

SP and those like him—JB, DW, and TB and many more—wouldn’t stand a chance against the people in the prosecution offices who are trying to murder them. Yes they have lawyers, but speaking from experience, these lawyers do a half-ass job in explaining things clearly to these men.

Anyway, I go outside, and I see him down on the far end of the yard, sitting at the picnic table that sits close to the wire fencing that separates J-Bldg from L-Bldg, and he’s reading papers. I can tell this stack is huge, about as thick as War and Peace. So I walk to him and he tells me, “I just got this in, and will you go over it for me.” Of course I agree, but I sit down and thumb through it, just to give him some idea what it might be saying. The 176 pages was my first telling that this ruling would be straight garbage and nonsense, so there’s no way SP would understand any of this.

This isn’t my first, third, or fifth time helping him with this type of reading, but I know each time that he’s grateful because I’m the first person he seeks out to help him, and that means a lot to me. Maybe as much as it does to him. So rather than put him to the side and play ball, I sit down and read parts to him that stand out to me, because I know he’s been wanting to know why state prosecutors haven’t turned over the DNA evidence they withheld, which the court ordered them to turn over about four months ago. After some time, and repeating myself over and over and over again to make sure he understands what I’m telling him, I tell him that I will read through everything tonight and sit with him again tomorrow. He agrees. I roll up his papers, intending to go play my game, but end up going back inside to start talking to other guys about the 176 pages of legalese, because I’d never gotten such a ruling, or knew of anyone else with a 176 page ruling. Hell. Maybe eighty pages, but this s**t was crazy, so I knew I wanted to begin reading it as soon as I could. If I didn’t take this time to help and explain, then SP wouldn’t have anyone to help who he thinks has his best interest at heart.

SP and those like him—JB, DW, and TB and many more—wouldn’t stand a chance against the people in the prosecution offices who are trying to murder them. Yes they have lawyers, but speaking from experience, these lawyers do a half-ass job in explaining things clearly to these men.

Another example: today, DB asked me about SP’s paperwork because a lawyer tried to explain some “wording” the court had ruled on inside SP’s ruling. The court had said they changed “competent” to “incompetent” in a certain section, but that change had not been made. Had it been made, then SP’s mental state would have changed from the state being able to kill him to where they can’t kill him. Mississippi can no longer kill people who are mentally challenged (incompetent). These two little letters—“in”—make a huge difference. SP did not understand that, so he did not grasp the importance of telling his lawyers to make sure the court corrected that mistake.

Or take DW, who, in my opinion, has the mindset of a child, unable to write to people and family, and is in desperate need of help. This man for years hobbled around death row with a bad toe on one foot and couldn’t properly take care of it…

In the fall of 2023, interdisciplinary artist Kristen Tordella-Williams and writer Liz Egan—both former Pink House defenders—invited reflections on the closing of the Jackson Women’s Health Organization. That project became Void, two 24” x 48” artist books with pages made of mended bed sheets and text written in iron dust. The project “commemorates those who preserved access to healthcare that once was tenuously available to all Mississippians. These books serve as a memorial to a community and to the void left behind by the fall of Roe v. Wade.”

I got the chance to sit down and talk with Liz and Kristen about this project, their experience as clinic escorts, and also about their thoughts on what it means to make a home—and grow roots—in the post-Roe Deep South. " [I]t was clear from the moment I moved [to Mississippi] that there was a fight against women and against women's access to health care,” Kristen told me. “But living in Mississippi, you can't look away from what's happening politically. It's just a maelstrom of American politics.”

For Liz, volunteering at the clinic was the first thing that made her feel rooted to Mississippi. “We find ourselves rooted in a lot of intricate connected ways,” she said. “And so the idea of ‘if you don't like it, you can leave,’ to me really undermines the sense of a place being capable of holding significance…At some point, someone has to stick around to be a voice.”

This conversation with Liz Egan and Kristen Tordella-Williams was recorded in Red Squared’s studio in Jackson.

Further reading:

Void was part of Kristen Tordella-Williams’s larger solo exhibition Dark Matter in the Hudson Galleries at the Mississippi University for Women.

More about the Pink House Defenders’ leaders Derenda Hancock and Kim Gibson

The NPR podcast Banned

No One Asked You documentary