What do you think?
Rate this book
Sisters of Dust, Sisters of Spirit
Cultivating the ecological side of black womanism, Baker-Fletcher combines a keen awareness of environmental racism, reflection of her own journey, and a constructive theological vision.
142 pages, Paperback
First published August 1, 1998
16 people are currently reading
63 people want to read
About the author
Karen Baker-Fletcher
8 books4 followersKaren Baker-Fletcher is Professor of Systematic Theology at Southern Methodist University's Perkin's School of Theology.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
February 14, 2021
Earth care is something that is increasingly becoming an important part of my faith. Nature plays a very important role in the lives of women of color - sometimes in ways that heal and sometimes in ways that harm. In a beautiful way, this book illustrates the deep & lasting interconnectedness of humans, Spirit, ancestors, and Earth. We belong to the land and to God- we are called to love it- not to dominate it or abandon it. Another strong point is that all forms of oppression are connected- and when we free both humans and the Earth, we will unleash our own true humanity.
It was a bit disconnected for me in places & I did not always align with her. But the overarching images are ones that I will return to.
It was a bit disconnected for me in places & I did not always align with her. But the overarching images are ones that I will return to.
March 1, 2023
Karen Baker-Fletcher’s Sisters of Dust, Sisters of Spirit: Womanist Wordings on God and Creation is a collection of theological musings, poems, and reflective essays attending to the intersections of womanist theology and ecological justice. As the title suggests, her anchoring image and argument is that humanity is made up of both dust and spirit, and this guides her towards conclusions that center our relationship with creation as something to be enjoyed, cared for, and protected. Throughout the book, Baker-Fletcher draws on narratives from her own life as well as African American women more generally to explore the places where ecological and social justice overlap for Black communities, while also acknowledging tension points between those parallel struggles. By emphasizing the immanent qualities of divine presence, she offers a vision of hope for humanity to embrace our call towards stewardship motivated by love above all else.
The comingled motifs of dust and spirit sit at the center of Baker-Fletcher’s theological anthropology and Christology. Humankind is at once made up of dust ––elemental, earthy, created and therefore connected to all of creation–– and strengthening, sustaining spirit. However, while humans are totally made from dust and only breathed on by the Spirit per the Genesis narrative, the paradox of Jesus is that in being human he was fully dust, but in being God he was simultaneously fully spirit (18). Baker-Fletcher elaborates on this implication of the incarnation: “I have come to see God, embodied in Jesus, as significant not just because God is embodied in a human but because God is embodied in a creature, and by extension, in all creation” (19). In other words, God’s incarnation as Jesus endorses not only the value of humanity, but of all creation.
Furthermore, she does not believe God’s immanence amidst creation is limited to the embodied life of Jesus, but rather that his incarnation is a paradigmatic revelation of the Spirit’s consistent permeating presence. She writes that “If [Spirit and creation] are truly within each other, then to return to the dust, to the waters, to the winds is also to return to Spirit because Spirit is present in life. We humans belong to heaven and earth. Spirit and the land do not belong to us. … Rather than envision heaven and earth as oppositional realities, one might reenvision heaven and earth as within each other” (125). This is consistent with womanist theology’s resistance against what Baker-Fletcher deems “by-and-by” theology that emphasizes a hoped-for afterlife at the expense of the here and now (119). While womanists hold a diverse set of views on what follows death, their understanding of salvation is inextricably bound up in the sustenance and flourishing of life. In light of this, she attests that “the reign of the Spirit is an everpresent reality” rather than one solely to be anticipated, which draws us into the daily work of joining with the “healing, creating presence” of the Spirit in pursuit of an apocalyptic hope of justice for all of creation (120).
Another throughline of Sisters of Dust, Sisters of Spirit is Baker-Fletcher’s recognition of the inextricable links between ecological and social justice, especially for African American communities. However, she also acknowledges that this connection has no always been embraced, especially given the legacy of environmental activism in America. She describes how the eco-justice movements of the 1960s and 70s gave way to NIMBY-ism amongst predominantly white middle class communities by the 80s whose efforts did not dismantle environmental injustice so much as displace it out of their “backyards” and into those of poorer communities of color (61). This is just one iteration of environmental racism that is rampant around the globe, which has consequently left many African Americans feeling disenfranchised and forgotten by traditional ecological activism while simultaneously bearing the greatest burdens of environmental injustice, particularly with the harm its caused their health.
Baker-Fletcher also echoes bell hooks’ argument that, in the movement away from brutal sharecropping in the South during the Great Migration, African Americans felt compelled to embrace the urbanism of the North at the expense of their connection to the land (52). However, she also complicates hooks’ somewhat romantic encouragement to “return to the land” by acknowledging that, at this point, “Too many of us need to fight for the health of the land we live on or near before we can get back to the land in a way that is truly healthy” (52). In light of this, she endorses starting small, praising the value of an herb garden on a windowsill or even a contemplative walk outdoors with the purpose of appreciating nature as the beginning of “re-membering” one’s connection to their own body, to the earth, to the community, and to God (57).
After one has begun to remember their membership within this global collective, she believes more formal individual efforts can begin, like consistently recycling and planting native trees and plans, which then lead to organizing within communities for larger, systemic change (78). And while Baker-Fletcher is cognizant of the immense challenges inherent to such a process, particularly the latter stage, she finds an energizing hope granted to those who do this work while grounded in God. To believe in the Spirit is to believe in “something greater than ourselves that surrounds us, embraces us, encompasses us, gives us life, and interconnects us within a web of creation and creative activity that is beyond our understanding. It precedes us and survives us” (111). And for womanists and those who join in their struggles, knowing that the God who is on the side of life, healing, and liberation came before us and will long outlast us is hope enough to carry on against all odds (110).
In considering the text as a whole, its methodology is both an asset and a limitation. In the prelude, Baker-Fletcher distinguishes her “wordings” here from more systematic theological writing, noting that she strived to write from the heart as well as the mind in the fashion of “straight talk –– honest, earnest, life-connected” in order to meet the needs of the lay people (8). The book is testimony to this approach, evidenced by her frequent weaving together of poetry, personal anecdotes and storytelling, and theological reflection. However, the ambling, conversational tone also renders some of its arguments underdeveloped and disorganized in exchange for its immensely engaging, accessible style.
Rather than operate out of a central guiding thesis, the ideas feel loosely connected within a general web; some chapters focus heavily on memoir-style retrospection on a trip to the sea or the Million Man March without a particularly clear correlation to the anchoring focus of creation. Furthermore, some of the books most engaging theological concepts ––particularly the process of “re-membering”–– are limited to just a paragraph or two, leaving them underdeveloped and vulnerable to being lost in the shuffle of stories and ideas. And yet, one of the strengths of the book is its personal nature, modeling womanist theology’s appreciation for the lives of Black women as a crucial source of theological reflection and insight. Through attention to these lived experiences, Baker-Fletcher highlights the complicated history of environmental racism and offers a nuanced, applicable path forward towards ecological justice for African Americans in particular, but one that all readers can find wisdom and direction from.
The comingled motifs of dust and spirit sit at the center of Baker-Fletcher’s theological anthropology and Christology. Humankind is at once made up of dust ––elemental, earthy, created and therefore connected to all of creation–– and strengthening, sustaining spirit. However, while humans are totally made from dust and only breathed on by the Spirit per the Genesis narrative, the paradox of Jesus is that in being human he was fully dust, but in being God he was simultaneously fully spirit (18). Baker-Fletcher elaborates on this implication of the incarnation: “I have come to see God, embodied in Jesus, as significant not just because God is embodied in a human but because God is embodied in a creature, and by extension, in all creation” (19). In other words, God’s incarnation as Jesus endorses not only the value of humanity, but of all creation.
Furthermore, she does not believe God’s immanence amidst creation is limited to the embodied life of Jesus, but rather that his incarnation is a paradigmatic revelation of the Spirit’s consistent permeating presence. She writes that “If [Spirit and creation] are truly within each other, then to return to the dust, to the waters, to the winds is also to return to Spirit because Spirit is present in life. We humans belong to heaven and earth. Spirit and the land do not belong to us. … Rather than envision heaven and earth as oppositional realities, one might reenvision heaven and earth as within each other” (125). This is consistent with womanist theology’s resistance against what Baker-Fletcher deems “by-and-by” theology that emphasizes a hoped-for afterlife at the expense of the here and now (119). While womanists hold a diverse set of views on what follows death, their understanding of salvation is inextricably bound up in the sustenance and flourishing of life. In light of this, she attests that “the reign of the Spirit is an everpresent reality” rather than one solely to be anticipated, which draws us into the daily work of joining with the “healing, creating presence” of the Spirit in pursuit of an apocalyptic hope of justice for all of creation (120).
Another throughline of Sisters of Dust, Sisters of Spirit is Baker-Fletcher’s recognition of the inextricable links between ecological and social justice, especially for African American communities. However, she also acknowledges that this connection has no always been embraced, especially given the legacy of environmental activism in America. She describes how the eco-justice movements of the 1960s and 70s gave way to NIMBY-ism amongst predominantly white middle class communities by the 80s whose efforts did not dismantle environmental injustice so much as displace it out of their “backyards” and into those of poorer communities of color (61). This is just one iteration of environmental racism that is rampant around the globe, which has consequently left many African Americans feeling disenfranchised and forgotten by traditional ecological activism while simultaneously bearing the greatest burdens of environmental injustice, particularly with the harm its caused their health.
Baker-Fletcher also echoes bell hooks’ argument that, in the movement away from brutal sharecropping in the South during the Great Migration, African Americans felt compelled to embrace the urbanism of the North at the expense of their connection to the land (52). However, she also complicates hooks’ somewhat romantic encouragement to “return to the land” by acknowledging that, at this point, “Too many of us need to fight for the health of the land we live on or near before we can get back to the land in a way that is truly healthy” (52). In light of this, she endorses starting small, praising the value of an herb garden on a windowsill or even a contemplative walk outdoors with the purpose of appreciating nature as the beginning of “re-membering” one’s connection to their own body, to the earth, to the community, and to God (57).
After one has begun to remember their membership within this global collective, she believes more formal individual efforts can begin, like consistently recycling and planting native trees and plans, which then lead to organizing within communities for larger, systemic change (78). And while Baker-Fletcher is cognizant of the immense challenges inherent to such a process, particularly the latter stage, she finds an energizing hope granted to those who do this work while grounded in God. To believe in the Spirit is to believe in “something greater than ourselves that surrounds us, embraces us, encompasses us, gives us life, and interconnects us within a web of creation and creative activity that is beyond our understanding. It precedes us and survives us” (111). And for womanists and those who join in their struggles, knowing that the God who is on the side of life, healing, and liberation came before us and will long outlast us is hope enough to carry on against all odds (110).
In considering the text as a whole, its methodology is both an asset and a limitation. In the prelude, Baker-Fletcher distinguishes her “wordings” here from more systematic theological writing, noting that she strived to write from the heart as well as the mind in the fashion of “straight talk –– honest, earnest, life-connected” in order to meet the needs of the lay people (8). The book is testimony to this approach, evidenced by her frequent weaving together of poetry, personal anecdotes and storytelling, and theological reflection. However, the ambling, conversational tone also renders some of its arguments underdeveloped and disorganized in exchange for its immensely engaging, accessible style.
Rather than operate out of a central guiding thesis, the ideas feel loosely connected within a general web; some chapters focus heavily on memoir-style retrospection on a trip to the sea or the Million Man March without a particularly clear correlation to the anchoring focus of creation. Furthermore, some of the books most engaging theological concepts ––particularly the process of “re-membering”–– are limited to just a paragraph or two, leaving them underdeveloped and vulnerable to being lost in the shuffle of stories and ideas. And yet, one of the strengths of the book is its personal nature, modeling womanist theology’s appreciation for the lives of Black women as a crucial source of theological reflection and insight. Through attention to these lived experiences, Baker-Fletcher highlights the complicated history of environmental racism and offers a nuanced, applicable path forward towards ecological justice for African Americans in particular, but one that all readers can find wisdom and direction from.
November 18, 2019
4.25. Straightforward, direct, frequently profound meditation on God, people and the world from a womanist perspective. Plenty to return to here.
June 17, 2021
A clear and helpful discussion of the connections between womanist theology and eco-theology, with some rich spiritual content.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews