Page 143 →Acknowledgments

A favorite picture book in our family is Last Stop on Market Street, rhythmically written by Matt de la Peña and memorably illustrated by Christian Robinson. The book follows a little boy, CJ, and his grandmother as they move through their city one Sunday. As they approach their final destination, CJ looks around him and wonders aloud, “How come it’s always so dirty over here?” His nana responds, “Sometimes when you’re surrounded by dirt, CJ, you’re a better witness for what’s beautiful.” When my older daughter and I attended an author reading of the book in our then-home of Las Vegas, the author inscribed our copy of the book, “To Phoebe—Be a witness.”

Although this book isn’t explicitly about “witnessing” in a theoretical sense, my experience of writing it felt like bearing witness to the beauty of Black American women’s memory work, past and present. It’s an honor and a privilege to witness this work, and I’m grateful to all of the people who have done that work and helped me to see and better understand and appreciate it. As Christel N. Temple put it in her book Black Cultural Mythology, “Witnesses offer a testimony of remembrance.” I offer this book as a testimony to the power of Black women’s memory work.

First, some specific words of gratitude for assistance that folks offered me on particular aspects of research for this book. For chapter 1, I thank the editors, reviewers, and readers who gave me opportunities to conceptualize the community and critical memory work framing: Simone Drake, who invited me to write about memory for the Oxford Handbook on African American Women’s Writing; the 2023 leadership of the Central States Communication Association Women’s Caucus, for the encouragement they provided at that year’s conference; and my colleagues and friends Leslie Harris and Shevaun Watson, who read versions of the chapter draft. For chapter 2, I thank my University of Nevada–Las Vegas graduate students Kacey Page 144 →Ballard and Gabriella Tscholl for their work as research assistants during the initial stages of my work on this chapter, when I actually thought it was going to be part of an entirely different book. For chapter 3, I again thank Leslie Harris for her careful reading of a draft, the University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee (UWM) Department of African and African Diaspora Studies for inviting me to present this work at their symposium, and Karrin Vasby Anderson and my anonymous reviewers from the Quarterly Journal of Speech for their incisive comments on an earlier version of this chapter. For chapter 4, I’m grateful to Megan Fitzmaurice, whose 2016 National Communication Association paper helped me to better understand the rhetorical dynamics of Black women’s responses to the proposed “Mammy” monument. For chapter 5, I thank Allyson Farzad-Phillips and Carly Woods for organizing a 2019 conference panel on feminist rhetorical memory, during which I was able to present the initial research for this chapter.

Now, for some more general thanks to the many people who have supported and encouraged me in my work on this book.

In October of 2023, I was able to convene a workshop to receive additional feedback on my book manuscript. Thanks to the generous startup funds I received from UWM, I was able to compensate the expert readers who carefully reviewed my manuscript, took time out of their schedules to travel to Milwaukee, shared their insightful commentary both verbally and in writing, and enthusiastically engaged with one another and the workshop attendees. This book was greatly enriched by the feedback of scholars Natasha Barnes, Kimberly Alecia Singletary, and Tracy Vaughn-Manley. I am especially grateful to Kim, who has shared with me her friendship, intelligence, humor, and incomparable editing skills for more than fifteen years. I appreciate everyone who attended the workshop—and a special nod to Sabrina Fuller Muñiz, who kept the trains running, as usual.

I’m grateful for my UWM colleagues, both in the Department of Communication and across the university. I am especially grateful for the colleagues and friends in my writing accountability group. There is no way that I could have persisted in writing this book through a global pandemic and after the death of one of my closest friends without their support. Over the past six years, various permutations of the following incredibly smart and savvy human beings participated in the group: Rachel Bloom-Pojar, Leslie Harris, Katie Vater, Shevaun Watson, and Lia Wolock. They have cheered me when my energy was flagging, challenged me when I needed a nudge, and laughed with me over innumerable beverages in various coffee shops across Milwaukee.

Page 145 →Scholars like me who do historical research are also dependent on archivists and librarians. I appreciate all of the painstaking and often progressive work done by these experts, especially UWM archivist Abigail Nye and Alexandra Villaseran at the US National Archives and Records Administration.

Thank you to all of the students who have taken my courses on African-American public discourse at the University of Nevada–Las Vegas and UWM. These students asked critical questions and urged me to articulate implicit theories and choices (in some cases, very directly: “Why do you teach so many speeches given by Black women?”). Moreover, they encouraged me to persist in this area of study and scholarship when I was sometimes tempted to abandon it. I also thank Derek Handley for partnering with me in an ongoing collaborative experiment to teach African-American rhetorics across the graduate and undergraduate curriculum at UWM and for being a great colleague and friend on “the other side” of rhetoric.

I am grateful to graduate advisees who have become friends and colleagues, especially Josh Miller, Scarlett Harrington, Darrian Carroll, the deeply missed Misti Yang, Alisa Hardy, Kristin Gates, Jessica Gehrke, Jillian Schemenauer, Cassandra Hightower, Carly Parr, and honorary advisee Alex Parr Balaram. I continue to learn from all of these folks. Thanks to all of the incredible graduate students I’ve had the pleasure to know and learn from.

I thank my own teachers and mentors, always Angela Ray most of all.

Thank you to my University of South Carolina Press editor Aurora Bell and series editor Vicki Gallagher for believing in this project and helping me shepherd it along its path to becoming a real book. I greatly appreciate their encouragement and advice and their wisdom in selecting thoughtful readers. Many thanks go to those anonymous readers also—reviewing book manuscripts is a time-consuming and often thankless task. I am very grateful for the energy, care, and attention to detail they invested in this project. These folks made this a richer, stronger book. Any errors or shortcomings of the work are entirely my own.

I could not do any of this without the support of community, friends, and family. I thank the Milwaukee Public Schools staff who nurture and teach my children. I thank my neighbors who make our corner of Milwaukee a hopeful and welcoming place to live. I thank friends far and near: my Milwaukee book group, Susan Sytsma Bratt, Jessica Bratt Carle, Kyla Ebels-Duggan, Kim Singletary (again) and the whole Kjersti Knox and Garrett Bucks family. My academic work is supported (and sometimes even read!) by people in both my family of origin and family of experience: my parents, Page 146 →Ric and Julie VanderHaagen, and Phoebe Dobrowski; and my sister, Laura Gustafson; and our extended family through adoption, the Lamer-Davis family. Most of all, I thank my husband, Chris Verkaik, who has cared for our children, done our laundry, kept us fed, and performed the lion’s share of household tasks so that I could focus on my work. I’m so very grateful for our two decades of partnership. Our children, Phoebe and Joanna, teach me daily about what it means to be a witness to beauty in our complex and messy human lives. I’m forever glad I get to witness their lives up close.

Speaking of other beauties, finally: I thank my gardens and all the beings who live there, both in Las Vegas and Milwaukee, for giving me work for my hands, delight for my senses, and wonder for my spirit.