Holbrook tells of her own redemption while laying a path for others to follow
By Anne Murphy
I have always believed in the healing power of telling one’s story,” said Carolyn Holbrook, whose new book Tell Me Your Names and I Will Testify speaks volumes about the trials she faced in becoming an author, arts advocate and educator. “While reliving some of the memories I write about was difficult, there was also relief in opening up and telling those stories.”
Tell Me Your Names “is a memoir of connected essays,” said Holbrook, 75. “I’ve been writing essays for 20 or 30 years, and it was time to compile them.” Collectively, they chronicle how Holbrook relied on heart, soul, a resolute spirit and the support of her ancestors to build the kind of life that in her early years seemed improbable if not impossible.
If there is one thing Holbrook can bequeath to her five children, eight grandchildren and two great-grandchildren, she said, it is “the knowledge that when they experience difficult times, they can push through with the help of their parents, each other and the knowledge that their ancestors made it through enormous difficulties. Therapy, journaling, knitting, chocolate and good friends” help as well, she added.
A resident of Saint Paul’s South Saint Anthony Park neighborhood, Holbrook dedicated Tell Me Your Names to her mother and stepfather and to “my ancestral mothers on whose shoulders I stand,” she writes.
Her mother was an independent businesswoman who owned beauty shops in Minneapolis. Her stepfather was the first Black auditor for the Minnesota Department of Agriculture. “I come from a long line of role models,” she writes. “Black women entrepreneurs and educators…it’s because of their legacy that I’ve been able to achieve as much as I have.”
Holbrook will discuss Tell Me Your Names and I Will Testify (University of Minnesota Press, 200 pp.) in a free program at 7 p.m. Wednesday, August 26, through Next Chapter Booksellers, 38 S. Snelling Ave. To register for the online program, visit nextchapterbooksellers.com.
Holbrook was persuaded to begin writing about herself and her family in 1993 after being visited by the spirit of a woman who told her, “I am Liza. You have to tell our story.” A cousin confirmed that their family had an ancestor named Eliza. Later, while going through family photographs, Holbrook found one of the woman who had appeared to her. “Visits from loved ones who had passed were not new to me,” she writes. “But this was the first time a spirit showed up with an explicit command.”
Holbrook’s life has given her much to write about. “By the time I reached my mid-teens, I was mad at the world, determined to do the opposite of anything my parents wanted me to do,” she writes. At 16, she was single, pregnant and incarcerated for driving the getaway car for a boyfriend in an attempted robbery. Years later, she left an abusive marriage and as a single mother of five children grew determined to not only become financially independent, but to do so through writing what she had harbored in her soul.
Holbrook’s life has given her much to write about. “By the time I reached my mid-teens, I was mad at the world, determined to do the opposite of anything my parents wanted me to do,” she writes. At 16, she was single, pregnant and incarcerated for driving the getaway car for a boyfriend in an attempted robbery. Years later, she left an abusive marriage and as a single mother of five children grew determined to not only become financially independent, but to do so through writing what she had harbored in her soul.
Holbrook went to work as a secretary and typist to support herself and her children. She began writing for her neighborhood newspaper. She took creative writing classes and with fellow writers founded the Whittier Writing Workshop and its mentoring program for Black writers. For that effort, she received the 1985 Leader Lunch Award for Neighborhood Impact from the YWCA, as related in her essay “The Award.”
In another essay, “Coming Clean,” Holbrook writes about her experiences teaching a creative writing class through the Mother Infant Care Education Program. Her students were initially uninterested in writing. Then she told them her story. “I definitely had the young parents’ attention then,” she writes. “Questions flowed one after the other, most centering on why I had stayed in an abusive relationship for so long, how I dug myself out of poverty, and how I got where I am now.”
Serving as a teacher and mentor has been a large part of Holbrook’s life. She was the first person of color to serve on the staff of the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis. In 1993, to make the literary arts accessible to a wider audience, she created SASE: The Write Place and served as its leader until 2006.
Now an adjunct professor of creative writing at Hamline University where she has taught since 1997, Holbrook is a staunch believer in writing as a source of well-being. “I try to demonstrate that to my students through assignments and readings,” she said. Writing about pain can help one grieve, she said. “You cannot just get over things. No one should be told to ‘just get over it.’ You need to work it out. And that’s what writing can do.”
Holbrook reflects on her own experiences as a student in the Minneapolis Public Schools in the 1950s and ’60s in the essay “Expectations and Assumptions.” As she often does in her book, she begins the essay with a quote from another writer. In this instance, it is from Sally Rudel, a former assistant principal at Minneapolis South High School: “Low expectations are the worst form of racism.”
Holbrook recalls how she and fellow Black students were treated differently than white students at her school and maintains how important it is for teachers to respect all young people equally. “I urge teachers to have a sense of humor and to be flexible enough to understand that if a student’s learning style is different from what you are comfortable with, they should not be rendered unteachable,” she writes. “I am constantly surprised by the number of students in my college freshman composition class who are convinced that they do not have the ability to write well. On closer investigation, it becomes clear that their fear of writing is based on the discouragement they experienced from a teacher.”
In 2015 Holbrook founded the organization More Than a Single Story, where people of color can discuss and write about issues of importance to them. In her book’s final essay, “Sticks and Stones,” she writes: “For Black women, loving ourselves and passing that self-love down to our daughters and our granddaughters is a difficult task. Centuries of negation often make us feel like we need to adopt a hard, protective shell, which is either praised as strength or dismissed as hostility. In short, we turn ourselves into stone.”
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