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Yellow crocus by laila ibrahim
Yellow crocus by laila ibrahim











yellow crocus by laila ibrahim

You can see that my birth experiences are reflected in my novels. There are scenes in Yellow Crocus that were largely influenced interactions I had with children from Woolsey.Īs a birth doula I had the privilege of witnessing the intensity and joy of childbirth. I was the founder and director of Woolsey Children's School where I had first hand experience loving children that were not my own.

yellow crocus by laila ibrahim

My passion for early childhood education, child birth and religious education are reflected in my writing. My education and experience in multiracial, developmental psychology and attachment theory provide ample fodder for my novels. This compelling historical novel is a richly evocative tale of love, loss, and redemption set during one of the most sinister chapters of American history.' Lisbeth realizes she must make a choice, one that will require every ounce of the courage she learned from her beloved Mattie. When Lisbeth bears witness to a shockingly brutal act, the final vestiges of her naiveté crumble around her. In time, Lisbeth realizes she has freedoms and opportunities that Mattie does not have, though she’s confined by the societal expectations placed on women born to privilege.Īs Lisbeth grows up, she struggles to reconcile her love for her caregiver with her parents’ expectations, a task made all the more difficult as she becomes increasingly aware of the ugly realities of the American slavery system. Growing up under the tender care of Mattie, Lisbeth adopts her surrogate mother’s deep-seated faith in God, her love of music and black-eyed peas, and the tradition of hunting for yellow crocuses in the early days of spring. Born to white plantation owners but raised by her enslaved black wet nurse, Mattie, Lisbeth’s childhood unfolds on the line between two very different worlds. So begins Lisbeth Wainwright’s compelling tale of coming-of-age in antebellum Virginia. So along with the comfort of her came the fear that I would lose her some day. Although my family ‘owned’ her, although she occupied the center of my universe, her deepest affections lay elsewhere. That knowledge must have filled me as quickly and surely as the milk from her breasts.













Yellow crocus by laila ibrahim