Prior to moving from the shack off highway 61, the highway stretching from Tennessee to Mississippi, one of MaDear’s brothers came by in his loud rusty old pickup truck. Since they had a strong family resemblance, Uncle Clarence looked like a female version of her. He heard about a big new department store where Black people could shop and have their pictures taken. He wanted to take us to this store. He had worked hard in the fields and wanted to gift us with pictures.
Uncle Clarence was a tall, dark, thin, hardworking, yet jovial man. He loved to joke and have fun. He was somewhere in the middle of 10 children, three girls and seven boys. MaDear was the oldest. He was also a chain smoker and favored Camel cigarettes. They grew up on a farm in North Mississippi, across the Tennessee state line. He never moved to Tennessee but visited frequently.
My siblings had taken a picture together prior to my birth. They were all dressed nicely in their Sunday best. They all stared at the camera without smiling. I was too young to understand why I wasn’t in the picture. Now that I was five years old, I was excited to see how I would look in a picture. Since MaDear was the only sibling that didn’t have a picture, Uncle Clarence was hoping she would take one. She wasn’t about to take any pictures but agreed to go with us. This time, Dad stayed home since we were in good hands with our uncle.
To prepare for my picture, MaDear braided my unruly mop of long curly hair the best she could. In those days, it was called plaiting. My hair had a mind of its own and wouldn’t stay braided. She was hoping it would just last until the picture was taken. Since the weather was cool, I wore Vie’s hand me down coat that was handed down to her. My siblings and I jumped in the bed of the old rusty truck, and MaDear sat up front with her brother. Before we could hold on, Uncle Clarence took off down the dirt road. Dust was flying everywhere, and we hung on for dear life. I could see and hear him laughing as we bumped along the long road. The wind and dust didn’t help my hair, but I was ready to take my first picture!
When we finally got to the big department store we had to go upstairs to the balcony area. Black people couldn’t shop on the main floors. We had to go even higher up to the picture department. To me, it seemed like we were in the rafters of the building. We had to sit on a hard seat near an open area that had a rail to hold onto. Black people were the only people I saw in this area. After my siblings took their pictures, Uncle Clarence took them to explore other areas in the balcony.
When it was my turn to sit on the hard seat, I heard noises below, I looked down and saw what looked like a thousand white people buzzing around and excitedly looking at clothes and other items. I was scared because I was so high up, and had never seen so many people in one location. The kind white man behind the monster looking camera told me to look his way. I could not look at the camera; because I was afraid my five year old body would fall through the opening and land on the people. Tears welled up in my eyes. Before they could roll down my cheeks, I saw a big flash and nearly jumped off the seat!
After looking at the picture, MaDear put her hands on her hips. When she put her hands on her hips I knew she was not pleased. She didn’t like the picture because I had a frightened look on my face and tears in my eyes. She asked the man to take another picture. He tried to resist, but she insisted. “Francie Mae, don’t move,” she said. I sat there frozen in that hard seat. I was not about to move! This time, MaDear stood in front of me. She knew I was afraid. “Francie Mae, hold your head up and look at your MaDear. Don’t look down,” she said. I did exactly what she asked me to do and smiled for the camera that no longer looked like a monster. At that moment, I felt safe. Even if I fell, I believed she would magically appear down below to catch me. She kept the teary eyed and smiling picture of me, along with other memorable items, in her treasured trunk until she passed. She was one of the strongest and bravest women I knew.
I often thought about why she insisted that I take another picture. Many years later, I learned from MaDear and Dad that Black leaders like Fredrick Douglass believed that photography was crucial to ending racism. The camera sees an image and takes exactly what is seen. It does not lie. There were so many racist caricatures and stereotypical images that some people believed. There were other pictures of Black people with fear in their eyes. She didn’t want a picture of me that showed fear. This is one reason that MaDear insisted that I smile and look directly at the camera. This was the picture I chose to use for my blog.
MaDear was the only person in my family that called me Francie Mae. She shortened my first and middle names. I chose to use this name my pen name in honor of her.
Francie Mae. December 26, 2025.