Natasha Bowen Quotes

We’re all different and I think it’s important to do what’s best for you.

As there were more books coming on the scene, there tended to be less about Black people as magical beings or creatures in fantasy, and I definitely wanted to see more of that

I’d like to see African America lifting up our black farmers, chefs and community food leaders. Our priorities need to be putting our dollars directly into our communities so that black farmer and that black-owned restaurant can keep their doors open, allowing them to keep feeding our communities and keep food culture alive. We need to get better at telling our stories to make that connection with our community.

For many, agriculture can represent deep pain because of the history of slavery, but also because of current land loss, forced migration and oppressive farm labor practices. But I remember thinking, “Could this be enough to keep us from picking up the plow again?” I think, for some people, possibly it is. But I’d like to think we recognize that our legacy with the land is so much more than that

Enslaved Africans refused to be stripped of their spirituality, their stories, and in essence, their humanity, and so they took them with them. You can see these connections across the diaspora, from similar tales, a Yoruba speaking community in Colombia, to the deities worshipped in the Caribbean and beyond. Even when it came to religion, Africans showed ingenuity and tenacity in holding onto what mattered to them.

I think it’s very important to show Black characters as main characters and to chart their journeys of vulnerability and strength. That was another major highlight of writing this novel.

I want to say that Africa’s history and brilliance is there, and I want to say that Black people can be magical and fantastical creatures, as well as anything else.

'It's just…' But the words won't come and instead I find myself saying nothing, trying to keep my lips from trembling. The sapphire is cool in my grip as I look down at it, remembering the woman.
Folasade floats nearer as my hair waves in front of us. 'May I?' she asks.
Nodding, I let Folasade sweep my curls away so that we can see each other's faces clearly. Her eyes are almost black in the water, but they shine with a reverence I know is missing from mine.

Mo gbà yín. Ní àpéjọ, àpéjọ yóò rí ìbùkún àpéjẹ̀ẹ Ìyá Yemoja tí yóo ṣe àpéjọ̀rùn ìrìn àjò àpéjẹ. Kí Olodumare mú ọ dé ilé ní àìléwu àti àláfíà,’ I say, and then repeat the prayer that will glean the woman’s soul. ‘I welcome you. Gathered, you will be blessed by Mother Yemoja, who will ease your journey. May Olodumare take you home to safety and peace. Come forth.’”