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Personal Narrative: Being A Successful Negro Woman

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Personal Narrative: Being A Successful Negro Woman
It was warm day in 73 I had finally decided to head home to get some things.The gentle heat of the new Buick nearly puts me to sleep as i lie half asleep I look back on what I have done in my life.The rural georgia air brushes through the new car providing a prideful and nostalgic mix. I reflect on my life and hide a brief sense of emptiness,and find comfort being a successful negro woman. Knowing how far I have come soothes me .

Heading home felt strange all want are some collectibles from my “culture” to decorate my new house. It seems stupid asking, mama doesn't know or care of the finer things in life she probably won't even part with the quilts. Mama will never never understand the concept of self beautification,all she understands is work. I don't think she has rested since she was born.
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He will get by better than anyone that i would actually date so it will work. He knows these things well and will spot anything of value.

Hakim was gonna be essential to getting in with Mr. Fitch a producer that is offering jobs two african american women,possibly the only one. I'm not giving up the chance. What I don't understand is why people would look for stuff like this, it's just a bunch of junk from 60 years ago

As we pulled up i saw mama on the porch she was larger than I remember. the sun glistened off her hair ,and the smell of her lifestyle was strong enough to taste.she loomed over maggie holding the shy girl in place her, large hands covering her frail shoulders completely I say hello already at work scanning the porch for the most pronounced things of value while still maintaining eye contact the whole

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