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I always became the main character of any book I was reading. Their Eyes, however, spoke loudest.

I found Their Eyes Were Watching God at age 16, after school, with Ms. Wyatt’s Forensics Club preparing to recite an excerpt where Janie, the main character and her Nanny were in the kitchen talking about getting married. I remember giggling at the dialect mostly because I understood it. The words actually gave me clues on what my grandmother and other old folks had been saying all my life. It never occurred to me that this was oral tradition captured. I had only seen this type of written dialect after reading pages of Alice Walker’s The Color Purple against my mother’s approval. I had prepared to deliver the passage but never did; instead I recited The Ballot or The Bullet speech by Malcolm X. Ms. Hurston’s wit in that section never left me though.

At age 20, my friend Kika and I went to the college book store to purchase this novel because Ms. Guilford had required that we read it at Bowie State University. I had not read it from finish to end and would not have that Freshman year in Towers Hall, had not Kika and I sat in the dorm room flipping pages together taking turns to read aloud, one page at a time, to be sure we understood and aced our assignments.  What a bonding experience in friendship, almost like Pheoby and Janie. Reading this was great on so many levels. We developed a healthy habit of studying and being a book club before its popularity. We fell in love…with Teacake, with the porch and the people who seemed like my uncles, aunts and neighbors. Oh and the ending!  The surprisingly thrilling ending had us turning pages silently enthralled. The poetry of Zora Neale Hurston and her character, our kindred sister, Janie had us put our shoulders back three inches more and lift our heads in victory. We marched with a million men that same year in DC with that spirit.

Celebrating the 75th Year Anniversary of Their Eyes Were Watching God

Just a few years ago, as I began to grow and experience more, understanding and revealing more of who I am in my career and as a woman, I turned back to the pages of Their Eyes Were Watching God as I do with most of my favorite books, only to identify specifically with the pain and eventual triumph of Janie Crawford. My project had already begun. God has its way of making perfect, the time for everything. If left in my hands, I would have released my project Songs for Janie two years prematurely.

This morning I am at my table, with today’s wind knocking around window parts in my house and clashing melodies with the chimes on my porch, relishing in the moment and the timelessness of Life and Creation and Art. All one in the same.

How remarkable a novel published today 75 years ago, resonating like voices in a large and empty chamber!? A novel written when my Grandmother Ruth was 10 years old, and I keep finding parts of myself in the masterpiece…watching God.

…watching God