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Sharon Bridgforth grew up in segregated Los 
                Angeles surrounded by sweet and strong story-telling Southern 
                black single women who urged her toward a life of stability as a 
                schoolteacher. They had left their Southern homes and families 
                to flee the oppression of racism, to search for hope for their 
                children, and to be free of "family speculation" for themselves, 
                Bridgforth says. "Everybody was in everybody's business." 
                
                But she didn't develop a yearning for the stability her family 
                wanted for her. Through card parties and beach parties filled 
                with laughter, music on the radio, and lots of dancing and tale 
                telling, she did develop a love for her family's words, their 
                voices, and their stories. "Everything about me was informed by 
                who they were," she says. It was a love that was further fed 
                with summertime trips to Memphis and more stories, voices, 
                Southern words, and Mississippi blues. Its music wraps itself 
                around her writing like Southern humidity. In fact, you can 
                smell the Mississippi in Bridgforth's writing -- its flowing 
                waters of unconditional love she felt from her Memphis relatives 
                and the storms they experienced as black Americans. 
                
                
                Bridgforth and 
                RedBone Press publisher Lisa Moore at Brentano's Bookstore in 
                Cleveland in June
                photo by Lincoln 
                Pettaway
She hears it and feels it when she writes. She listens to its 
                music "as a tool to get me to that place where I can feel," as 
                she points to her heart, "in here." "the bull-jean stories is 
                structured the way it is on the page," she explains, "because I 
                was trying to capture the way that I heard my older family 
                members tell stories." It is written in all lowercase. 
                "Lowercase," she says, "feels more like the language sounds to 
                me." 
                
                As Bridgforth returned to the palm trees of L.A. and rode 
                crosstown bus after crosstown bus, from South Central L.A. to 
                her Catholic school in Echo Park, she read and daydreamed. She 
                was becoming a storyteller and author in her own right, despite 
                not knowing any writers, despite not discovering black writers 
                like Langston Hughes and James Baldwin until high school, 
                despite not even imagining becoming a writer. 
                
                But just like her wy'mn relatives had felt trapped in the South, 
                Bridgforth felt trapped in L.A. "I was suffocating. I was dying. 
                L.A. was killing me." She cannot seem to find enough verbs to 
                express her L.A. suffocation. "I felt so hopeless because it was 
                so big and mean and expensive. ... I think I needed to get away 
                from it in order to imagine myself." She just wanted to dream.
                
                
                Friends in Texas beckoned her to Austin. Despite a fear of the 
                Klan and worry over intolerance toward gays and lesbians, she 
                heeded the call and took a job with the Health Department. It 
                was, as they say in Hollywood high-concept screenwriting, an 
                "epiphany." Through her work at the Health Department, 
                Bridgforth was "out and about in the community" and heard story 
                after story about "older black women who had lived with Miss 
                So-and-so for a long time." She started thinking about that. 
                Lesbians, she clearly realized. And Bridgforth was in awe that 
                there were black lesbians who were an integral, active, 
                well-respected, and well-accepted part of the community. 
                
                About the same time, Bridgforth was grieving for some of her 
                elderly family members who had died and was yearning to hear 
                their voices again. She sat down and wrote a story, combining 
                the women she missed with the women she was curious about in 
                Austin. And bull-jean was born. She was structured the way 
                Bridgforth had heard her family members tell stories -- a little 
                singing, a little dancing, a little poetry. It was 1993, and as 
                soon as Bridgforth finished that story, another story about 
                bull-jean flowed from her hands and mind, and then another, and 
                another. Bridgforth couldn't stop her. Bull-jean was now a part 
                of Bridgforth, just like her family was. 
                
                And so was writing. "It's like breathing," she says. "It's how I 
                understand myself and my life, how I look at the world, how I 
                appreciate those who came before me." It is her life, not her 
                work. 
                
                Susan Post, proprietor of Book Woman and, perhaps, Bridgforth's 
                biggest fan, can't remember how or when they met. "It seems like 
                I've known her forever," she says. Post believes there's a 
                psychic connection between Bridgforth and herself; every piece 
                of Bridgforth's writing tingles her spine and gives her 
                goosebumps. "Haunting," she calls the work. Bridgforth says that 
                Post would be "upset" for her when she received rejections. And 
                Bridgforth did receive rejection after rejection for bull-jean. 
                Like every writer who gets even one rejection, she got the down 
                in the dirty, dejected, rejected blues. We're talking Bessie 
                Smith blues because no one, not no one, wanted to publish 
                bull-jean. The theatre pieces sounded too much like poems. The 
                poems sounded too much like short stories. The stories ... well, 
                they were filled with "too much cussing. The subject matter's 
                too risky." There aren't a lot of white small presses willing to 
                publish fiction about a Southern black lesbian. And there 
                certainly aren't a lot of large New York City, 
                conglomerate-owned presses willing to publish fiction about a 
                Southern black lesbian. It's just not a niche that's profitable. 
                And while white presses thought bull-jean was too black, black 
                presses thought bull-jean was too gay. But the rejections may 
                also have had to do with publishers' befuddlement about how to 
                sell a work that defies easy categorization. Is the bull-jean 
                stories fiction, as Bridgforth calls it? Perfomance pieces? 
                Poetry? "The way that I write is all of those things," 
                Bridgforth explains. Her voice soars an octave as she laughs and 
                admits that she just might have to die if someone insisted she 
                write in only one style. "I wouldn't be able to separate that 
                out. It's not my style." She adds, "I think we're complicated, 
                complex beings, and that's a good thing. So for me, it's in 
                recognition and honor and celebration of my own complexity to 
                not separate out my pieces, my bits, my parts." She insists that 
                she doesn't even use dialogue in her fiction. "It's more 
                monologues, poems, songs, responding -- where people are 
                responding to each other or responding to what's going on ... as 
                opposed to direct conversations." 
                
                So time after time, Susan Post stared Bridgforth right in the 
                eyes and said, "Your time is going to come, and there is no 
                doubt about it." She swore to Bridgforth that if bull-jean 
                didn't get published, she was going to take Bridgforth to Book 
                Expo America, the publishing industry's major annual gathering, 
                and lead her, by the hand, to every publisher she knew. Post was 
                bound and determined to get bull-jean to the public. "It wasn't 
                like the scrub girl who hadn't yet become Cinderella," Post 
                explains. "She was already Cinderella. She was wearing the right 
                shoes." 
                
                Indeed, realizing that if she didn't do it herself that she 
                wouldn't have "a place to talk from," and also wanting to make 
                sure that her works were performed the way she wanted -- "no 
                words added, shifted around, or changed" -- Bridgforth 
                established her own theatre company called root wy'mn. That was 
                1993, the same year she birthed bull-jean, and over time root 
                wy'mn toured her plays lovve/rituals & rage, no mo blues, and 
                dyke/warrior-prayers from Boston to Berkeley. 
                
                Bridgforth promoted her work and herself. That included 
                attending a 1997 Lambda writers conference in Washington, D.C., 
                where she talked with Lisa Moore, a young black lesbian from 
                Atlanta who had started her own small press, RedBone Press. It 
                was a one-woman operation solely dedicated to publishing black 
                lesbian writers. It would become a match made in heaven. 
                
                Already, Lisa Moore was aware of Bridgforth. At the 
                encouragement of writer Shay Youngblood, Bridgforth had 
                submitted a story to RedBone's first publication, does your mama 
                know?, an anthology of black lesbian coming-out stories. Moore 
                accepted Bridgforth's piece, "that beat," in 1995. That same 
                year, at the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival, Moore saw no mo 
                blues, which has a lot of bull-jean in it. Then, Moore came to 
                Austin and saw Bridgforth's blood pudding, and also applied to 
                graduate school at the University of Texas. That was 1998, the 
                year that Bridgforth, Moore, and Post will never forget. 
                
                It was the start of a continuing business affair between 
                Bridgforth and RedBone and Bridgforth and the Lambda Awards 
                because at the Lambda writers' conference, Bridgforth told Moore 
                she was going to submit more bull-jean to the publisher. She 
                did, and in the spring of 1998, after Moore wrestled with the 
                fact that bull-jean sounded like poetry (she didn't publish 
                poetry), RedBone and Bridgforth contracted for the bull-jean 
                stories. In June of that same year, RedBone won two Lambda 
                Awards -- "Lesbian Studies" and "Best Small Press Book" for does 
                your mama know? Bridgforth was suddenly a part of a 
                Lambda-winning project. And Moore moved to Austin to begin 
                graduate studies and publish the bull-jean stories. 
                
                Bridgforth realized that she didn't have time to do both root 
                wy'mn and write. So she prioritized. Writing won. Root wy'mn 
                closed. And the bull-jean stories was published. Moore backed 
                the book with as much promotional budget and time and energy as 
                she could afford, which wasn't much since she publishes on a 
                shoestring budget. But she is a woman who is loyal and 
                determined and who is in love with bull-jean. 
                
                "Her voice," says Moore, "the way she spoke, it seems like 
                home." Moore's father is New Orleans blues man Deacon John. She 
                also liked the fact that bull-jean was situated in a community 
                and "belonged somewhere." So Moore faxed and phoned and flew 
                Bridgforth around the country until bull-jean was in the hands 
                of independent stores throughout the nation ... and Canada. 
                
                The following year, bull-jean won RedBone and Bridgforth another 
                Lambda Award for, again, lesbian and gay small press book. The 
                first person Bridgforth thanked at the awards ceremony was Book 
                Woman's Susan Post. "Her inner place seems to be deeply 
                anchored," Post says about Bridgforth. "So I don't think she can 
                be tossed too far." In other words, Bridgforth won't forget 
                those who helped her along the way. 
                
                Post is right; success has not jaded Sharon Bridgforth. But how 
                could it? She wants so much more -- a screenplay for bull-jean, 
                the gift of time to write, national theatres that can give 
                bull-jean the production values she deserves, to encourage and 
                mentor others as she has been encouraged and mentored. "I've 
                experienced bits of this," she acknowledges, "but I would like 
                to go full-steam." 
                
                This year, it looks as if RedBone Press will publish a book 
                that, for the first time in its history, does not involve Sharon 
                Bridgforth, who has been tucked away in Kyle writing, with 
                forays into the San Marcos Target and occasional trips to 
                Austin's Cafe Mundi to satisfy her city girl needs for noise. 
                Bridgforth received a 1999/2000 NEA/TCG Playwright's Residency 
                at Frontera @ Hyde Park and is working on a new theatre piece, 
                con flama, which was finished this summer and will be produced 
                by Frontera in September. It is about her time growing up in 
                L.A., "a look at the cultural landscapes of a place," "a ride 
                through a melting pot" of ethnicities and struggles. 
 
| The CD the bulljean stories is only available through RedBone Press or at specific events. To order call RedBone Press at (202) 667-0392 or fax at (202) 667-0393. Send checks or money orders to P.O. Box 15571, Washington, DC 20003. CDs cost $12.99 and shipping is $3.20 (priority mail). You can also order the book directly from Redbone Press at redbonepress@yahoo.com. | 
Source:  Excerpt from
                
                Other Voices, Other Rooms  -- BY SUZY SPENCER 
                Website:  
                http://www.sharonbridgforth.com/ 
                
 
The bull-jean 
                Stories Available on CD
 
The Bull-Jean Stories
                
                
                
                
                Root Wy'mn 
                sharon bridgforth is the founder/writer/ artistic director of
                
                the root wy'mn theatre company 
                
                
                
                
                Resume
Blacklines -- Aug. 1999
                
                
                And the Lammy goes to ... writer sharon bridgforth and publisher 
                Lisa Moore/RedBone Press for the bulljean stories! The book 
                that won the 1999 Lambda Literary Award for Best Small Press can 
                now be heard on CD. bridgforth captivated and delighted 
                Chicago"s Black lesbian community when Affinity sponsored a 
                reading by her earlier this year. ´with the bulljean stories i 
                wanted to celebrate the rural/southern workingclass Black 
                bulldaggas/who were aunty momma sisterfriend/ pillars of the 
                church always been a working part of the community/giving fierce 
                Love with fineness,´ bridgforth said. ´the songs of my 
                childhood/the laughter/the gift of taletelling/the food that my 
                elders gave me are integral parts of who i am. though i can"t 
                dictate their particular words i do understand that the voice of 
                the bulljean stories belongs to them. these are the stories 
                they didn"t tell me the ones i needed most. bull jean is the 
                butch/southern/poet/warrior wo"mn hero i wish i"d known,´ 
                bridgforth said. 
                
                The bulljean CD was created because both bridgforth and Moore 
                were often told what a difference was made in the enjoyment of 
                bulljean when heard aloud. ´Bulldagger stories beg to be heard 
                aloud,´ was written in a review in Southern Voice, a weekly 
                publication. And the rest is history, as they say. 
                
                The bulljean CD is a family affair. bridgforth reads (No! She 
                performs), her daughter sings and Moore"s father (who is a 
                professional musician, usually playing the blues) plays guitar 
                on the CD. 
                
                Many Chicagoans remember the Mountain Moving Coffeehouse Black 
                Herstory presentation of the bulljean stories performed by 
                several wellknown community members–C.C. Carter, Donna Rose, 
                Rhonda Bedgood and on and on. ´I"m still talking about and 
                giggling about that performance,´ bridgforth told BLACKlines. ´I 
                loved it!´ she said. 
                
                Bridgforth is currently presenting bulljean most of the time. 
                However, she also does some residency work, presents workshops 
                and has started the Institute for Radical Poets for young adults 
                to help them find their voice and present themselves. She will 
                be performing for two days at the Michigan Womyn"s Music 
                Festival Acoustic Stage along with C.C. Carter. 
                
                Moore has changed her thesis to one related to the oral 
                herstories of older Black lesbians. She is also working on a 
                Black lesbian and gay religion and spirituality book as well as 
                one on parents and friends of lesbians and gays. 
                
                The CD the bulljean stories is only available through RedBone 
                Press or at specific events. To order call RedBone Press at 
                (202) 667-0392 or fax at (202) 667-0393. Send checks or money 
                orders to P.O. Box 15571, Washington, DC 20003. CDs cost $12.99 
                and shipping is $3.20 (priority mail). You can also order the 
                book directly from Redbone Press at
                .
 
Source:  Copyright © 1999 Lambda 
                Publications Inc. All rights reserved. Lambda publishes 
                Outlines, The Weekly Voice of the Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and 
                Trans Community, Nightlines, Out Resource Guide, Clout! Business 
                Report, Blacklines and En La Vida. 1115 W. Belmont 2D, Chicago, 
                IL 60657; PH (773) 871-7610; FAX (773) 871-7609. Web at
                
                http://www.suba.com/~outlines/. E-mail feedback to
                ! 
 
 
 
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