The Magic Within Baby Suggs and a Purple Butterfly

Sherese Francis
6 min readOct 11, 2023

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by Eleatell

“Words are to be taken seriously. I try to take seriously acts of language. Words set things in motion. I’ve seen them doing it. Words set up atmospheres, electrical fields, charges. I’ve felt them doing it. Words conjure. I try not to be careless about what I utter, write, sing. I’m careful about what I give voice to.”

Toni Cade Bambara

Words are magic. Not in the way magic stereotypically is portrayed but magic in the sense that they shift the perceptions we have of ourselves and others, helping to reveal to us our capacities, our capabilities, our true sense of power that is already within us. They can help us to see clearly who we are when it may have been clouded by our own and others’ insecurities, indoctrinations, fears and hatred. They, as Bambara said, can change the atmosphere of the spaces in which we live. Words are about possibilities, about the greatness already in one’s existence. When I read Toni Morrison’s Beloved, for the first time, it changed the ways I could see myself despite my suffering and trauma. Despite growing up feeling like I didn’t fit in the world or that the world didn’t value me as I am in the ways I deserved. I learned that I could value myself, value my own story. It was a reminder that I was always worthy no matter what I had to endure, no matter what others’ perception of me was.

After reading Beloved, in 2018, during my time as a poetry editor for a Black women-centered magazine, I was inspired to create a poetry folio inspired by one of my favorite characters from the book, Baby Suggs. One of my favorite sections of Beloved was Baby Sugg’s sermon in The Clearing. Those words from Baby Suggs stuck with me at a time where I struggled to feel connected to my body. My view of myself was clouded at the time by years of being in spaces, seeing images, and hearing words that told me what I was but that never felt like they truly fit. Growing up in a home I didn’t feel completely secure living in; growing up in a Black church where I couldn’t question certain beliefs and felt alienated; growing up in a society that told me that the body I had did not measure up and did not deserve as much as others. Deep inside I felt like I saw myself in a much more expansive way. But I became detached and withdrawn from myself and my body because I didn’t see the spaces for me to exist in my fullness. When I read the words from Baby Suggs, it was like I was being told to let my words craft that space. Having read work from other Black women, like Audre Lorde, like bell hooks, like Bambara, like Morrison, I am reminded that my words can help craft the sacred spaces that I desired so much.

Beloved also connected me to another work that resonated with me when I was younger. I remembered seeing the movie The Colored Purple and being inspired by the letter writing between Celie and her sister. That even despite the distance, writing allowed them to somehow still be connected and find each other again. Once again it showed me that words are magic; words are like quantum entanglement — there is a resonance that exists in space even when we are not close to those who we cherish. I am still forming my community that fully embraces and sees me, and words and writing has brought me closer to that — to shout out into the darkness, the void of space and find others who resonate with what I have to say. And that’s why I also included a purple butterfly in the title — purple is a color that strongly resonates with me, a color that represents worthiness, authority, synchronicity, wholeness, complexity, magic, rarity, creativity, transformation, harmony, the mundane and the spiritual. It’s a color that can represent the fullness of who we are.

That’s what Baby Suggs and a Purple Butterfly represents. Creating a space that allows for all of that. To be fully myself, let others be fully themselves and create space for the unknown to come in as well. When I created the call for Baby Suggs and a Purple Butterfly, I had no idea what it would become. At first, when I wanted to put the call out, the magazine had unexpectedly decided to shut down and I didn’t know what to do. I was there with this idea to do a poetry anthology for Black women and non-binary people, women of color, nonbinary people of color, and had no space to platform it. But I forged ahead and decided to do it anyway on my own. I decided to make a clearing for myself.

At the beginning, it didn’t get much traction and I was disappointed. But something kept calling me back to it and reminded me that I and this work was worth it. So I sent the call out again a year later when one of the poets asked me about it. With the small group of poets who contributed, I decided to be positive this time around, and I told myself this was enough. That it wasn’t the amount of poets in the collection that made it special, it was creating this space to share with these poets that did. After another guided journal project I worked on fell through, I had another idea to turn the anthology into a guided journal as well, to leave space for whoever may come in the future. I was reminded of Sethe’s character, who came and changed Baby Suggs’ life and how their meeting affected each other. I wanted to leave room for the space to grow, for the anthology to change shape and gain new colors, the way Sethe allows Baby Suggs’ sermon to evolve and change through her own story and body. I wanted this anthology and the poets’ work to act as a call for others to respond, for their words to change and evolve through readers’ own stories and bodies who we have not met yet and may never meet. To allow space for them to come and join in the space in their own time instead of trying to force it all at once. Because that is what space allows for us to do, to exist fully at all times — past, present and future.

And through my acceptance that this space and this collection deserves to exist, Baby Suggs and a Purple Butterfly as a poetry anthology and guided journal will be in existence. The anthology/journal is divided into four sections: Sermons, Spells, Codes and Letters. The Sermons section, inspired by Baby Suggs’ sermon in The Clearing, is centered on connections and the ways we try to stay connected to ourselves, our bodies, our families, our ancestors, our histories, our ways of knowing, and the world around us. The Spells section takes a look at the ways we create, incorporate and perceive magic, sensuality, mindfulness and wonder in our lives. The Codes section is a reflection on the codes, rules and structures that shape our realities and that we attempt to redefine for ourselves. Last, the Letters section, inspired by Celie’s letters to God and to her sister Nettie, invites others to respond to our callings, our questions, our demands, and our hauntings and to join in on the congregation and conversation. I am grateful to the featured poets in this collection — .chisaraokwu., Keisha-Gaye Anderson, Zahura Akter, blkcowrie ❀, Kim Brandon, Jacqueline Carr, Carla Cherry, LeConté Dill, Sherese Francis, Jacqueline Johnson, Divya Kandwal, and Kuukua Dzigbordi Yomekpe– and I thank them for also believing in this space. And I will leave with this quote from Toni Morrison and Baby Suggs, to let yourself envision and embrace with your words and your body the fullness of who you are: “She told them that the only grace they could have was the grace they could imagine. That if they could not see it, they would not have it. “Here,” she said, “in this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass. Love it. Love it hard” (page 103).

Baby Suggs and Purple Butterfly will be published by Get Fresh Books.

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Sherese Francis
Sherese Francis

Written by Sherese Francis

Sherese Francis is a Queens, NY-based, Afro-Caribbean-American poet, editor, interdisciplinary artist, workshop facilitator, and literary curator.

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