When I was a kid, my aunt had a round, white washing machine with a wringer on top. Little did I know I was watching Black history unfold before my eyes as my aunt cranked the clothes through the wringer. That system of wringer rollers was patented by Ellen F. Eglin.

Depending on your source, Ellen F. Eglin was born either in Maryland in February 1836 or in Washington, D.C., in 1849. She lived in Washington D.C. with her parents, brother Charles, and two other siblings. There she worked as a housekeeper. Sources believe it was due to this stoop work that necessity, the mother of invention, tapped Ellen on the shoulder. In 1888, she devised a clothes wringer made of two wooden rollers with a crank used to squeeze excess water from laundry. Unfortunately, she never received just compensation for her invention.

Because of race prejudice, Ellen sold her invention for $18 (about $598 in today’s dollars). $18 wasn’t an inconsiderable sum when at the time a loaf of bread cost five cents, a pound of meat was ten, and a gallon of milk was twenty. But giving away the rights to her patent for such a paltry sum was a disgrace. The American Wringer company made huge profits from the sales of its product based on that patent. Her wringer is still in use today to wring out mops.

We wouldn’t even know about Ellen and her invention if not for feminist Charlotte Smith, who interviewed Ellen for Smith’s The Woman Inventor in 1890. Asked why she sold her patent, Ellen’s answer was heartbreakingly simple. “You know I am Black, and if it was known that a negro woman patented the invention, white ladies would not buy the wringer. I was afraid to be known because of my color in having it introduced to the market; that is the only reason.” She hoped to create another invention and exhibit it at an upcoming Women’s International Industrial Inventors Congress, but her plans never came to pass.

Those of you who may be watching Sir Julian Fellowes’ The Gilded Age will have heard this truth echoed in the situation of the character Peggy Scott. Wanting to be a writer, Peggy is told by the publisher interested in her work that if they don’t hide the fact that she’s black they’ll lose white subscribers in the South.

The year Charlotte Smith interviewed her, Ellen was working as a charwoman for the Department of the Interior. Records show she was still living in Washington D.C. in 1916, and that is the year assigned to her death.

I like to think that by sharing these blogposts I’m following in the footsteps of women like Charlotte Smith and Hallie Q. Brown (featured in my Oct. 2023 and Feb. 2024 D.D. blogposts) lifting up the lives and achievements of women so they won’t be forgotten.

For a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card, share your thoughts in the comments.

Her Heavenly Phantom
by Michal Scott

Forced into a marriage of convenience neither wants, a mild-mannered banker with an intriguing secret discovers his reluctant bride has a secret, too.

Excerpt:

Unwed and pregnant, Emily Hampton needed a husband. Newly freed and hungry for a foothold among the ranks of the Black elite in 1880s Brooklyn, William Broadman had the answer.

His son Harold.

The warmth shared between the two men stood in stark contrast to the cold chaste kiss Harold and his bride shared. Their coolness continued as they walked up the aisle. Guests, oblivious to their shared contempt, showered them with hugs and handshakes. Harold shivered even more as his father and father-in-law back-patted themselves and toasted the couple’s future happiness at the wedding reception. No doubt the arctic chill between the couple would extend to their first lay as man and wife, too.

If they had to that is. Emily Hampton hated this arrangement as much as he did. Therein lay his salvation. If she wanted as little to do with him as he wanted to do with her, his life didn’t have to change at all. Milquetoast straightlaced banker by day. Virile promiscuous masked singer by night.

The lady of the balcony numbered among his many admirers. Her missives of gratitude roiled with cock-stirring heat.

Your singing ravishes my body.

My core weeps for you.

Oh, for a coupling I know would thrust me into a heaven far beyond my grasp.

The last message had reached him after an exhausting browbeating from his father. He’d come to the theater in need of an escape that even singing couldn’t provide. She’d accepted the invite to join him backstage conveyed by way of his manager. In the dark windowless privacy of his dressing room, they’d thrust their way to a heaven beyond both their grasps.

He looked forward to what she’d write to him tonight. He’d need it as he lay alone on his wedding night.

Buylinks:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DBJ47ND6/
B&N https://shorturl.at/B0NLA
KOBO: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/secret-identities-8

When I pastored in Brooklyn, visiting members at the Susan Smith McKinney Rehabilitation Center and Nursing Home was a regular part of my week. I never gave much thought to the woman for whom the care center was named. This month, I make up for that oversight.

Susan Smith McKinney Steward was born in the black Brooklyn town of Weeksville in 1847. Her father was a prosperous pig farmer and fierce abolitionist. Her eldest sister, Sarah J. Garnet, who I blogged about in December 2023, became the first African American female public school principal in New York City.

In 1870, Susan graduated valedictorian from medical school and became the first African American woman doctor in New York State and only the third African American female doctor in the country. From 1870 to 1895, she practiced medicine in Brooklyn serving patients of all races. She co-founded the Brooklyn Women’s Homeopathic Hospital and Dispensary. She served at as well as helped establish other hospitals for African Americans and the aged. She continued her medical education, becoming the only woman in the 1887-1888 post-graduate class at Long Island College Hospital in Brooklyn. She focused on homeopathic medicine and gained a reputation for her work treating malnourished children. She was elected into the New York Homeopathic Medical Society in 1896.

In 1871, she married Reverend William G. McKinney and had two children. Four years after his death, she married Theophilus Gould Steward, chaplain of the 25th U.S. Colored Infantry. She continued to practice wherever he was stationed. In 1898, Wilberforce University hired Dr. Steward as a resident physician. She taught health and nutrition there until her death in 1918.

No surprise Susan had talents that extended beyond medicine. Early on, she was organist and choir director at two prominent black Brooklyn churches, Siloam Presbyterian and Bridge Street AME. In politics, she was active in the Equal Suffrage League of Brooklyn, and as a member of the Women’s Loyal Union, she lobbied Congress from 1894-1895 to investigate lynching. In social reform, she served as president of her local chapter of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union. In the 1880s, she published two papers, one on a pregnant woman’s incorrect diagnosis and the next on childhood diseases. In 1911, at the Universal Race Congress in London, she presented a paper on famous African American women, and in 1914, she gave a speech to the National Association of Colored Women’s Clubs on the history of women in medicine from Biblical times to 1914.

Dr. Susan McKinney Steward died aged 71 in Ohio on March 7, 1918. Her body was returned to Brooklyn and buried in the famous Green-Wood Cemetery. Hallie Quinn Brown, the subject of my February 2024 and October 2023 D.D. blogposts, delivered the eulogy.

Writing this blogpost has taken me back to the streets of Brooklyn where I, like she, served as a community leader. I hope I left a legacy of work as impactful as hers. For a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card leave a comment about Susan or another woman you’ve found inspiring.

“The Patience of Unanswered Prayer” by Michal Scott
from Cowboys

Kidnapped and destined to be another victim of Reconstruction-era violence, a feisty shop owner is rescued by a trail boss whose dark secret might save them both

Excerpt:

The sounds of horse hooves clopping, drunken laughter, and saloon music had faded long ago. Only chirruping crickets, croaking bullfrogs, and Sheriff Radcliffe’s lies penetrated Eleanor’s covering. Where were they taking her?

The wagon wheels creaked with every rut they hit. Eleanor wheezed, desperate for fresh air. Nausea roiled at the base of her throat. Would she die choking on her own vomit? Fear squeezed her chest as yes flitted through her mind like a lightning bug.

The wagon lurched to the right. Her nausea intensified.

“Mind how you go there, boy. We don’t want to be accused of mistreating the prisoner.”

Being arrested on false charges didn’t count as mistreatment? How about being abducted by ones sworn to uphold the law? Eleanor’s agony mirrored that of Christ’s on the cross.

My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?

She moaned, her spirit smothered by despair. The pressure at the small of her back eased only to be followed by a sharp jab to her spine.

“Shut up, damn you,” Radcliffe snapped. “Your days of troubling me will soon be over.”

“What was that you said, Sheriff?”

“Thank God this trouble’ll soon be over. We’ll have delivered her safe and sound to the county seat tomorrow.”

“Safe and sound,” Deputy Jim Flyte said. “Thank the good Lord.”

His tone, full of innocence and ignorance, penetrated Eleanor’s cloth prison and killed all hope that he’d be of any help. She stifled a groan lest her tormentor kicked her again. Flyte was too young to know that safe and sound to Sheriff Hobart Radcliffe meant only one thing: Eleanor’s death.

Buylink:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3zfDpo2

UPDATE The winner is…Kerry Jo!
*~*~*

Alice was born in 1875 in New Orleans, Louisiana. Her mother was a former slave, and her father was White. She wrote, taught and/or lectured everywhere she lived: Louisiana, New York, Massachusetts, Washington D.C., Delaware, and Pennsylvania. She received her education from Straight University in Louisiana and Cornell University in New York. After graduating from Straight in 1892, she began teaching in the New Orleans public schools.

Her teaching career included working at the White Rose Mission in Manhattan and co-founding a reform school for girls in Delaware. Her later activism led to her being removed from her teaching position at Wilmington Delaware’s Howard High school in 1920.

In 1895 her first anthology, Violets and Other Tales was published by The Boston Monthly Review. A poem she wrote in the Review brought her to Paul Lawrence Dunbar’s attention. Several resources cite their romance as being the African American equivalent of Robert Browning’s and Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s courtship. However, disagreements on how to handle race in their writing and her same gender loving relationships with women shows me their relationship wasn’t always idyllic. Dunbar became increasingly physically and emotionally abusive. She separated from him in 1902 and was still married to him when he died in 1906. During their marriage she published her next piece, The Goodness of St. Rocque and Other Stories in 1899.

 Besides poetry she wrote articles on race relations, the limitations placed on working women, civil rights and suffrage in magazines, church related publications, academic journals and newspapers. These were topics on which she lectured as well. In 1914, she published Masterpieces of Negro Eloquence, which contained speeches made by men and women of African descent born in the US, Europe and Africa. From 1926 to 1930 she wrote a column for the Washington Eagle. She also kept a diary addressing the issues of her day. She wrote prolifically despite encountering lots of rejection because she addressed oppression and racism in her writing.

She married two more times. The second to a fellow teacher which ended in a friendly divorce. The last to Robert J. Nelson in 1916, a poet and activist to whom she remained married until her death and with whom she was active in politics, campaigning for anti-lynching laws. Like many African Americans of her day, she was a republican but not a chauvinistic one. When the republican senator from Delaware refused to vote for an anti-lunching bill, Alice campaigned and got twelve thousand new voters registered, leading to the senator’s losing reelection.

Alice died in Philadelphia in 1935 due to a heart condition at the age of 60. Having learned all this about her, I will think of her as a poet, critic, journalist, and activist who also happened to marry a famous poet. I hope that’s how you’ll think of her too.

A Portrait of Alice Dunbar

For a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card, share your impressions of Alice in the comments.

“Take Me To The Water” by Michal Scott

UPDATE: The winner is…Jennifer Beyer!
*~*~*

Come up with the correct question to this Jeopardy answer: In 1928, she was appointed chairwoman by Herbert Hoover to head a committee charged with fact finding on the issue of Negro housing. Correct question: Who is Nannie Helen Burroughs? Nannie Helen Burroughs lived when the Republican party was still the Grand Old Party of Lincoln and when being a Black republican wasn’t an oxymoron.

Nannie was born on May 2, 1879, in Orange, Virginia, to freeborn parents. Their enslaved father used his carpentry skills to buy his freedom. Nannie’s father was a minister and her mother a cook. They instilled in her the core value of uplifting the race in everything she did. It’s no surprise that she chose, “We specialize in the wholly impossible” for the motto of the school she would establish.

Active in her denomination, Nannie served as bookkeeper and secretary of the Foreign Mission Board of the National Baptist Convention. In 1900, her speech, “How the Sisters Are Hindered From Helping,” led to the founding of the Women’s Convention in 1900. She served as president until 1913 and continued working with them until 1947.

While studying at Eckstein-Norton University in Louisville, Kentucky, she created a club for women which provided bookkeeping, sewing, cooking, and typing classes in the evening. Societal opposition to educating women beyond being homemakers only inflamed Nannie’s activism. In 1909 at age twenty-six, she opened the National Training School for Women and Girls in Washington D.C. The school provided classes in shoe repair, barbering, and gardening in addition to domestic science and secretarial skills. In 1918, a Seattle magazine article showed the school also offered millinery classes and agricultural training. To graduate, everyone had to take the course Nannie created on the contributions of African Americans to history.

She worked for suffrage with my September 2024 D.D. blogpost subject Mary Church Terrell and advocated for the unionization of domestic workers. Nannie’s work with the National Association of Colored Women led to the founding of the National Association of Wage Earners.

She never married and worked tirelessly on her causes. But don’t picture her as a workaholic activist. In the 1920s, Nannie wrote two popular one-act plays for church groups, which continued to be produced through the decades. Her comedic satire The Slabtown District Convention enjoyed a revival in 2001.

A biography of Nannie was included in the children’s book Women Builders in 1931. The work was illustrated by my D.D. October 2023 and February 2024 post subject, Hallie Q. Brown.

Nannie died in 1961. Three years after her death, her school was renamed for her. Trades Hall, its original building, was designated a national historic landmark in 1991. A prolific writer and editor, the Library of Congress holds 110,000 of her papers in its Manuscript Division.

Once again, the dedication and determination of women like Nannie Helen Burroughs leaves me awestruck. For a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card, share your impression of Nannie and women like her in the comments.

Her Heavenly Phantom
by Michal Scott

Forced into a marriage of convenience neither wants, a mild-mannered banker with an intriguing secret discovers his reluctant bride has a secret, too.

Excerpt from “Her Heavenly Phantom” inside Secret Identities…

The carriage driver’s whoa brought him back to the present. Twelve noon and the sun shone brightly. Too brightly for noon on Good Friday. At that hour the sky had begun to darken and the veil of the temple had ripped in twain as Jesus died for our sins on a cross between two thieves.

Harold stepped to the sidewalk and offered his hand to Emily. She took it without a word then preceded him up the steps to their new home.

“I’ll be late at the bank, preparing for my trip to Philadelphia,” he said. “You weren’t expecting me for dinner, were you?”

“No.” She pulled off her gloves and laid them beside her hat on the hall table. “Will you want something upon your return?”

“Don’t bother. I won’t be hungry.”

“Very well. I’ll leave a note for cook with tomorrow’s menus.” She went up the stairs. Her bustleless walking skirt outlined a shapely rear. She swayed with each step as if in time to some erotic metronome. Harold blenched and concealed his cock’s sudden twitch behind his top hat.

“I’ll make sure to leave a door open,” she said. “So, you’ll know which bedroom is yours.”

That suited him fine. He’d want no witness to him losing himself in the rapture induced by his lady of the balcony.

Buylinks:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DBJ47ND6/
B&N https://shorturl.at/B0NLA
KOBO: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/secret-identities-8

UPDATE: The winner is…Mary Preston!
*~*~*

Mary Eliza Church was born September 23, 1863, to a family of the Memphis, Tennessee, Black elite. Her father, Robert Reed Church, one of the first African American millionaires, made his fortune in real estate. Her mother, Louisa Ayres, was entrepreneurial too, running a beauty salon. Former slaves, Mary’s parents never let society tell them what they could do. Neither did their daughter. Mary chose the four-year gentlemen’s course at Oberlin College and became one of the first African American women to earn a Bachelor of Arts in 1884 and then a Master’s degree in 1888 as did Anna Julia Cooper (whom I blogged about here on April 27, 2022) with whom she remained lifelong comrades in the struggle for women’s rights and racial justice.

After graduating from Oberlin, Mary taught at Wilberforce University for two years before moving to Washington, D.C., to teach Latin. There, she married Robert Terrell in 1891. They had five children. Becoming married forced her to leave her teaching job, but she heeded the advice of Frederick Douglass to remain active in the fight for African American equality.

She was instrumental in founding several civic clubs and national associations dedicated to uplifting the race: the Colored Women’s League (CWL) in 1892, the National Association of Colored Women (NACW) in 1896, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) in 1909, the College Alumnae Club (now the National Association of University Women) in 1910, and the Delta Sigma Theta sorority in 1913-1914.

As an educator, she championed education as the way up and out of the double-yoke oppression of being African American and a woman. Through the CWL in Washington D.C., she started a training program and a kindergarten before any were started in the public school system. She continued this work by founding daycares and kindergartens through the NACW. As a journalist, she wrote articles exposing the lies of lynching, just like Ida B Wells Barnett, with whom she worked. Both women had close friends who were lynched because their businesses were successful. As a suffragist, she challenged white women to recognize the vote was not the be-all and end-all for African American women. As a boots-on-the-ground activist, she fought segregation and racism through boycotts, sit-ins, picketing, and lawsuits. In 1950, aged 87, she sued a Washington D.C. restaurant for refusing her service due to her race. The Supreme Court ruled in her favor in 1953.

Whenever the doom and gloom of today’s naysayers stink up the air, I turn aside and inhale the rich odors of the history left behind by Mary Eliza Church Terrell. Until her dying day, July 24, 1954, at age 90, she lived the motto of the NACW, “Lifting as we climb.” Here’s a PBS’ Unladylike 2020 video about Mary: https://www.pbs.org/video/she-was-civil-rights-activist-and-co-founder-naacp-q3ypkj/

For a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card, share what you find inspiring about Mary or some woman you’ve learned about who inspires you to lift while you climb.

“Her Heavenly Phantom” by Michal Scott
Secret Identities: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology

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Forced into a marriage of convenience neither wants, a mild-mannered banker with an intriguing secret discovers his reluctant bride has a secret, too.

Excerpt from “Her Heavenly Phantom”…

“Thought your bride might accompany you tonight.”

Harold adjusted the folds of black silk attached to the brim of his hat. “Don’t be ridiculous. She knows nothing about my secret life on the stage.”

“How do you plan to keep her in the dark? Won’t she be concerned where you go at night?”

“My marriage of convenience is just that. She doesn’t want to know anything about me. I want to know as little about her.” He adjusted the fit of the face mask that covered all of his face above his nose. “What’s my itinerary?”

“You’ll have off until Easter then you head for a three-week engagement in Philadelphia then to upstate New York for another three weeks in Buffalo before returning for your farewell engagement here.” Michael shook his head. “Pity you had to marry. I will sorely miss our lucrative partnership.”

Harold scanned his dressing room table. “Speaking of missing.”

“You won’t find a letter tonight,” Michael said.

A pang throbbed in Harold’s chest. Where was the air in this damned room? “What do you mean?”

“Your lady of the balcony only just arrived at intermission. Maybe she’ll leave you one when you return.” Michael closed the calendar and stood. “I wonder why she lurks behind that Mardi Gras mask of hers.”

“The manager of The Phantom doesn’t understand that his client isn’t the only one who needs to hide his identity from the outside world?”

UPDATE: The winner is…Paula J McGhee!
*~*~*

UPDATE: The winner is…Amy Fendley!
*~*~*

Born in 1815, Harriet Ann Jacobs started life as a slave in Edenton, North Carolina but died an author, school founder, “contraband” advocate, and women’s rights champion in Washington D.C. Her autobiography, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl, chronicles the brutality she endured as an enslaved woman, but also demonstrates her resiliency, thanks to her family connections.

Harriet belonged to a tavern owner’s daughter who disregarded societal rules and taught six-year-old Harriet to read and write. Unfortunately, when the woman died, Harriet’s ownership transferred to John/James Norcom’s family, where Norcom sexually abused her. She began a relationship with a white lawyer named Samuel Sawyer who fathered her son Joseph and her daughter Louisa Matilda. Despite this relationship, Norcom kept sexually harassing Harriet. She ran away in 1835 and hid in her grandmother’s crawl space until she could escape to Philadelphia in 1842.

From there, she moved to New York and worked as a nanny for writer Nathaniel Parker Willis’ family. To thwart Norcom’s attempts to recapture her, the Willises sent Harriet to Massachusetts multiple times where her brother John lived and was an abolitionist.

After traveling to England with Willis and his child, Harriet lived in Rochester NY with abolitionist activist Amy Post, thanks to her brother’s connections with Frederick Douglass. She visited the Willis family back in New York City and agreed to work for them again. Since she was still a fugitive, they purchased her freedom in 1852.

Her brother and Post encouraged her to write down her life story, but Harriet refused.  However, a defense of slavery written by the wife of President John Tyler, finally broke down Harriet’s resistance. She responded to Julia Tyler’s lies that slaves were happy and well-treated with “Letter From A Fugitive Slave.” She sent the testimonial to the New York Daily Tribune, which published it on June 21, 1853. You can read the text here: https://docsouth.unc.edu/fpn/jacobs/support16.html.

This letter served as the springboard for Harriet writing her autobiography.

She tried three times to find a publisher for her work here in the US and in England. After the third attempt failed, she was able to buy the plates and had the book printed herself under the pen name Linda Brent in 1861.

During the Civil War in occupied Alexandria, Harriet did relief work with contrabands—slaves who had escaped and found shelter with Union troops. She traveled north and to England several times to promote and raise financial support for this work. In January 1864, Harriet opened the Jacobs School with her daughter to teach the formerly enslaved to read and write. After Sherman’s marches, they took the Jacobs School to Georgia as well. The assassination of Abraham Lincoln and post-reconstruction violence by the Ku Klux Klan forced them to relocate North. They opened boarding houses, first in Cambridge, Massachusetts, then in Washington D.C.

She died on March 7, 1897, and is buried in Cambridge’s Mount Auburn Cemetery.

In 2004, Jean Fagan Yellin published a biography entitled Harriet Jacobs: A Life. Yellin also started the Harriet Jacobs Papers Project. which collected nearly one thousand documents written by, to and about Harriet, her brother John, and her daughter Louisa. Through her research which began in the 1980s, Yellin has used documents from various historical societies and archives to successfully defend Harriet’s work as an autobiography, not a work of fiction as some academics had claimed.

Today in the US people are still trying to whitewash the history of slavery, but slave narratives written by men and women like Harriet keep setting the record straight.

For a chance at a $10 Amazon Gift card share in the comments any thoughts this post may have raised for you.

One Breath Away
by Michal Scott

Sentenced to hang for a crime she didn’t commit, former slave Mary Hamilton was exonerated at literally the last gasp. She returns to Safe Haven, broken and resigned to live alone. She’s never been courted, cuddled or spooned, and now no man could want her, not when sexual satisfaction comes only with the thought of asphyxiation. But then the handsome stranger who saved her shows up, stealing her breath from across the room and promising so much more.

Excerpt:

Tonight, all she cared about was the pleasure she hoped to enjoy again.

Spectral fingers of steam wafted from the water, inviting her own fingers to play between her thighs. The hope of completed self-pleasure shivered agreeably along every nerve.

She closed her eyes and massaged her nether lips, tentatively then confidently. The slow coil of arousal spread from her gut to her core. Her body swooned as desire ebbed and flowed in each vaginal contraction. First her chest tightened, then her belly and finally her groin. She gasped, caught in the grip of longing.

Now. I’ll do it now.

She thumbed her clitoris. Already throbbing with eagerness, the nubbin responded immediately.

Her back arched. Her throat tensed as bliss hardened into a clawing climax. She reached for the release beckoning to her from the edges of consciousness…then fell suddenly, frighteningly onto a piercing stake of pain straight out of hell.

Buylink: https://amzn.to/2u5XQYY