Poetry. LGBT Studies. The first title from Sapphic Classics, a co-edition between Sinister Wisdom Magazine and A Midsummer Night's Press to reprint seminal works of lesbian poetry."In spare and forceful language Minnie Bruce Pratt tells a moving story of loss and recuperation, discovering linkages between her own disenfranchisement and the condition of other minorities. She makes it plain, in this masterful sequence of poems, that the real crime against nature is violence and oppression."--From the Judges' Statement, Lamont Poetry Prize 1989, CRIME AGAINST NATURE"Minnie Bruce Pratt's CRIME AGAINST NATURE is, for a number of reasons, a work at the poetic crossroads. It extends the subject of love poetry; it extends the subject of feminist and lesbian poetry; it looks in several directions through the lens of a strong, sensuous poetics, through that fusion of experience with imagination that is the core of poetry, and through cadences founded in the music of speech, tightened and drawn to an individual pitch."--Adrienne Rich
Minnie Bruce Pratt (b. September 12, 1946 in Selma, Alabama) is an U.S. educator, activist, and award-winning poet, essayist, and theorist. Pratt was born in Selma, Alabama, grew up in Centreville, Alabama and graduated with an honors B.A. from the University of Alabama (1968) and a Ph.D. in English literature from the University of North Carolina (1979). She is a Professor of Writing and Women’s Studies at Syracuse University where she was invited to help develop the university’s first Lesbian/Gay/Bisexual/Transgender Study Program. She emerged out of the women’s liberation movement in the 1970s and 1980s and has written extensively about race, class, gender and sexual theory. Pratt, along with lesbian writers Chrystos and Audre Lorde, received a Lillian Hellman-Dashiell Hammett award from the Fund for Free Expression to writers "who have been victimized by political persecution." Pratt, Chrystos and Lorde were chosen because their experience as "a target of right-wing and fundamentalist forces during the recent attacks on the National Endowment for the Arts."[1] Her political affiliations include the International Action Center, the National Women's Fightback Network, and the National Writers Union. She is a contributing editor to Workers World newspaper. Pratt's partner is author and activist Leslie Feinberg. [from Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minnie_B...]
I felt like a good number of the poems in this collection didn’t completely reach me. Not because they weren’t moving in their own right, but because the formatting and style choices took me out of it. That being said, poetry is obviously subjective and there were a few that moved me to the point of tears. I particularly liked, “Another Question.” I feel like what carried this collection for me was Pratt’s story and the prose that followed at the end.
I do want to nod to Pratt’s remarks in her, included, Lamont ceremony Speech, “When I began to live as a lesbian, what I needed to know to survive my own despisal, and do my work, was knowledge that was rooted for me in those who had come before me.” I hope Pratt lived out the rest of her life knowing that these works have given people like me that same knowledge that she too craved.
I think regardless of how you feel about the poetic choices, you will find that in this collection– a sense of queer kinship. One that is triumphant.
Must be read out loud! Soulful and painful and gorgeously rhythmic. We very rarely get to peer into someone's regret and shame so consciously. This book is brave. Her relationship to gender and sexuality is so honest and so interesting.
Touching sad beautiful account of losing custody of her children for being a lesbian, her ongoing relationship with her boys and to nature, and a damning account of homophobia and the sexist double standards we hold women to.
This is not the first book of poetry I have read of Pratt’s, but I liked this one much more than the other I read. I am not really a poetry fan so I did not like the formatting choices or the poetry portion of this book, instead I really enjoyed reading Pratt’s story. The poems focused on her feelings around losing custody of her two children when she came out as a lesbian. This was a terrible time in her life, but she handles it and seems to be getting through.
While I did not like how meta this was at times (mentioning how her sons were reading the poems made me feel like she was detached from it and not putting her heart into the work anymore), I did enjoy seeing how her and her sons progressed. The more Pratt mentioned that she showed off her poems or that she wrote poems to deal the less attached I got. It felt like she was trying to hammer home the point that she was not hiding, but the fact that she came out and stayed out is enough to show that she not hiding anymore.
While this book of poetry was more powerful than some of her others, it does not compare with her prose. I only started reading her because of her long term partner Leslie Feinberg. As a stand-alone piece this one left me feeling like I knew very intimately a small portion of the poet’s life. I was very pleased and surprised by the level of intimacy that Pratt gives us through these poems.
It was a quick and easy read. Pratt is usually an easy read as she writes very accessibly and emotionally. While it was not my favorite book, I would probably read it again (probably due to not remembering having read it as I easily forget poetry I have read).
Heartbreakingly relevant and resonant. That Pratt includes the acceptance speech for the award given for this collection of poetry and a new afterword underscores the importance of context, reflection, and the broad impact of family separation. While clearly engaging with the realities of a state-defined family configuration and it’s homophobic/patriarchal roots, Pratt deftly connects how the family formation structure does not work or protect so many - the racialized, the poor, the undocumented to name a few. The book gave me a new way to think about family, mothers/children, and my own choices I have made as consciously childless and queer. If I was teaching I would offer this alongside a viewing of Carol and Dean Spade’s book against homonormativity. They would make for such good critical discussion. A heavy collection of essays and (mostly) poems, with healthy glimmers of resistance, resilience and healing. That motherhood and sex is laid so bare is a feat to witness. Pratt is a wonderful anti-racist white lesbian weaver of important words for us all.
My copy of this book comes from my grandparents' library. It arrived there the year after my grandmother died. It must have been a poetry book club selection, something my grandfather forgot to cancel. Or perhaps my grandmother, who was a poet, had herself submitted to the Lamont Poetry Prize? I try to imagine my grandmother reading the book, and I hope she'd have sympathized with Minnie Bruce Pratt, but I can't be sure. My grandmother believed we were put on this earth to have children, and while my grandmother lived, her daughter (my mother) believed that I couldn't possibly raise a psychologically healthy child with another woman, because a child needed a mother and a father.
I know two women of different generations who each had a romance with a woman while married to a man. The first woman did so in the period Minnie Bruce Pratt describes, when a woman could be declared an unfit mother for that. The first woman left her children in the care of their father for a brief period while she explored her relationship with her new female lover. The second, younger woman condemned the first one for "abandoning her children" for months. The younger woman didn't seem to realize that the first woman could have lost her children permanently.
An absolute must-read! While most of the lesbian poetry I have read either proudly celebrates wlw's love or expresses the social struggles that are specific to our experience of being gay in a heteronormative environment, this collection is very unique as it mostly focuses on motherhood. It is a book about conciliating motherhood and queerness. It takes us back to a time when gay people were not allowed to grow a family. Minnie Bruce Pratt was denied motherhood because she was a lesbian. It is a political book because of the dynamics of stigmatization, social injustice and rejection that shaped MBP's existence. But deep down, for me this book was less about the social stigma (yet well depicted in the poems) than about Minnie Bruce Pratt's own path in overcoming guilt and shame. It is a very introspective, personal piece of writing, raw and intimate.
Incredible read from Minnie-Bruce Pratt, outlining the traumatic incident of her losing custody of her children in 1975 after coming out as a lesbian. Minnie-Bruce uses such beautiful poetic imagery to convey such trauma, but not to make you feel for her, but for you to understand how powerful she is despite that. And she is; I am honored time and time again to call her a personal friend.
Reread. An incredible poetry collection about the trauma of Pratt losing custody of her children when she was declared an unfit mother for being a lesbian. This is a classic and I'm so glad it was reissued by Sinister Wisdom--it deserves to be widely read.
Minnie Bruce Pratt writes about losing custody of her sons when she chooses to live openly as a lesbian after her divorce from her husband. Her story is written in exquisite and heart wrenching poetry, leaving this reader shaking her head out of sadness and admiration.
Powerful book of poetry detailing Pratt’s life and experience with losing her children for being a lesbian in the South. Deals with reclamation of identity and choosing to be oneself despite the losses it may amass. Not my favorite writing style though definitely provoked much to think about!
flew through this. i wasn’t able to connect to some of it simply because i am not a mother but definitely made me think about the dichotomy of motherhood and lesbianism.
In 2016, this year of gay marriage in every state of the US, it feels too easy for queers to forget their history. We take for granted that we can have families, be partners to one another, be parents. It feels too easy to forget that very recently, our lives and our love were not only illegal but under constant threat of vigilante violence. The smallest of expressions of queer love could be enough to beget severe repercussions. (It's easy to forget that this is still a reality for many in our community today).
These poems will teach you the injustices and sufferings that Minnie Bruce Pratt, who should be one of our most dearly held queer elders, faced in the 70s and 80s. Courts and judges and laws validating the rough man at the gas station who calls you dyke. The community turning against you for your sexual desires, and for expressing them without fear. And commingled with these sufferings, the dyke bars, the community, the fearlessness, the pleasures of the sex itself.
These poems are really beautiful. And this work seems like it is not widely read, not nearly enough. The constant turn to empathy here reminds me of Rankine's Citizen. The everyday folk remind me of Frost.
There's more to say: about bodies and ancestry and parenthood and how history lives in the landscape, and in us.
It's been a long time since I opened a book of poetry and read it front to back, but these poems, raw and rich, compelled me through them.
In these well measured and extremely moving poems, Minnie Bruce Pratt relates an amazing story about the strength of women and their ability to survive inside and outside the patriarchal institution of motherhood. By carefully unfolding narratives that tell of how her two sons were taken away from her when she realized she was lesbian, Pratt has created a timely tale (in light of the ensuing debate over lesbians’ and gays’ right to marriage and the inevitable arguments against its “unnaturalness”) that draws amazing parallels between the losses and rejections that every woman feels as her children grow up and away from her and the feelings of isolation associated with the ostracism of gays and lesbians by their friends, community and family. But, as Pratt asserts well in her own words, “the one who tells the tale/gets to name the monster” (115); so here, she gets to weave this complicated story and implicate all who played their part in this devastating event, including turning that critical eye on herself. And, like the image she repeatedly uses throughout the book, of water slowly eroding even the hardest rocks, the reader is ultimately led to see the cumulative effect of this severing of a mother and her children, on the parties involved and on society as a whole.
In the late 1970's/early '80's, the author was deemed unfit to be a mother and lost custody of her two young sons The only charge against her was being a lesbian, but under law, a woman cannot be a mother and lesbian. This is her story and that of her sons. The poetry is beautiful and rough, with raw emotions dripping over every page. This is a book about injustice, and she tells it from the heart. The real crime against nature is that she, and many women like her, lost children. A woman, a mother... Yes. A woman, a mother, a lesbian, no. Yes, yes, a woman, a mother, a lesbian.
A wrenching series of poems about Pratt's relationship with her sons after she came out as a lesbian, when she lost primary custody to her homophobic husband.