An act of open-hearted bravery - that is this book.

Using the symbol of Sankofa - to retrieve, seek and take back what is at risk of being left behind - this author shares with readers her quest. It proves to be an uneasy odyssey into what it means to descend from the troubled people and evolving government of the early United States which imposed a rigid dichotomy on the humans in their society: white skin / black skin, free / enslaved.

Woven in the writing was the quest to find her people in the cryptic records of their people who afforded those enslaved with few of the markers we associate with identity - names, family names, efforts to note uniqueness between members. As in many great efforts, when others in the same search join forces more ground is gained, and she found that as time progressed. Complicating her searches and efforts were the traumatic scars of family life that happens, and those who want to talk about it, and those who want to forget and fear the backward consideration as harmful to the group as a whole.

The author leads readers through her many winding paths, sharing family tree charts, photographs of the generations that are currently leaving footprints in the world, and those who've been long gone, and about who we wonder. Was it consensual? Was it a price paid for some favor or kindness? Was there love in the creation of these people upon whose shoulders we stand? and what if there are truly bad actors in the mix . . . how does one reconcile all of that?

A haunting, question-filled work of Sankofa by the author that is worthy of consideration for all of us - any of us who have ancestors who have been long in the land most likely have skin in this game. . .literally and should not turn aside perturbed. We need to be thinking about this and how we are still responding to it. Books, writings, and memoirs such as these keep us working toward change and resolution.

*A sincere thank you to Dionne Ford, PublicAffairs, and NetGalley for an ARC to read and independently review.*

First of all, know while that my words won’t do Justice to how beautiful and heartbreaking and brave this book is: a woman traces back her family heritage after seeing a photograph of her enslaved great-great grandmother and her enslavers, one of whom was her great great f grandfather. The author described her research and personal mission to learn about her ancestors and to heal from generational trauma. It’s raw and honest. I learned a lot and am so grateful to learn this family’s story. Thanks to Bold Type Books for the advanced copy. Go read this one.

This novel is deeply personal, beautiful and heartbreaking. I admire the vulnerability of the author and the way she wrote about her family’s history while weaving in her own stories.

The opening statistic than nearly 1-in-5 African Americans have white men as their ancestors, meaning that the enslavers could be related to them, literally made my jaw drop. That was such a powerful opener and set the tone for this memoir of self-discovery. The heart wrenching statistics didn’t stop: the author repeatedly introduced statistics showing the insidious institutional racism still at play in America.

This book highlights the struggles African Americans face in trying to piece together their lineage without reliable records because of slavery. The devastation of this erasure cannot be overlooked.

To give her ancestors a voice and to honor their stories the way the author did is one of the most powerful examples of love I’ve seen.

I was fascinated by the premise of this memoir and its promise of a story of healing through the uncovering of the author's ancestry. While the content kept its promise, I found the flow of it to be disorganized and hard to follow, and this detracted from my overall experience of reading it. I wonder if this was supposed to mimic the author's own journey, which wasn't an easy, linear one either. The most amazing part of this book was the sheer amount that the author was able to recover about her own family history, and how at so many turns, it was just a bit of luck (or whatever you want to call it) that led to a discovery. This book sheds light on the complicated generational narratives that can exist for Black folks for whom enslavement plays a role in their families' stories. I appreciate the author's willingness to share that with us readers and for the opportunity to once again take a close look into this nation's history vis-a-vis a personal story of one family line.