Red at the Bone

by Jacqueline Woodson

At the time we were in ninth grade—new to our beliefs and the power of our voices. So we argued.

am a narrative, someone’s almost forgotten story. Remembered.

That was 1921. History tries to call it a riot, but it was a massacre.

will never go to that state, as God is my Witness, my Savior, my Rock. You will never see Miss Sabe’s foot in the state of Oklahoma.

Had never traveled to Tulsa but knew somewhere deep inside herself that Tulsa was separate from Oklahoma—its own ghost of a place.

she too felt the embers of Tulsa burning.