It’s that time of year again: Mother’s Day, and we’re here to celebrate it on #BlackMusicSunday, like we did last year. Who we dub “moms” are not always birth mothers. Many of us have been raised up with love by grandmas, aunties, stepmoms, older sisters, godmothers, mentors, or even family friends. My mom has passed on, and so have my aunties and godmothers, though they and their foremothers are always with me, in songs and in family stories.
I can hear my mom talking in my ear when I start to do something she would not have approved of, and see that one eyebrow lifted, chastising me without having to say a word. I hear her favorite songs, and she is right here beside me.
Join me in celebrating those who mother us, not just for today—let’s make it all year round.
Probably the most well-known song to a Black grandma is Bill Withers’ classic “Grandma’s Hands.” Withers, who we sadly lost on March 30, 2020, touched many folks with his poignant lyrics:
Grandma's hands
Clapped in church on Sunday morning
Grandma's hands
Played a tambourine so well
Grandma's hands
Used to issue out a warning
She'd say, "Billy don't you run so fast
Might fall on a piece of glass
Might be snakes there in that grass"
Grandma's hands
Grandma's hands
Soothed a local unwed mother
Grandma's hands
Used to ache sometimes and swell
Grandma's hands
Used to lift her face and tell her,
She'd say "Baby, Grandma understands
That you really love that man
Put yourself in Jesus hands"
Grandma's hands
Grandma's hands
Used to hand me piece of candy
Grandma's hands
Picked me up each time I fell
Grandma's hands
Boy, they really came in handy
She'd say, "Matty don' you whip that boy
What you want to spank him for?
He didn't drop no apple core"
But I don't have Grandma anymore
If I get to heaven I'll look for
Grandma's hands
Our vice president, Kamala Harris, whose nickname is “Momala,” knows what it is to be a stepmom and devoted auntie. She paid tribute to Withers when he passed.
Music blogger Rennette Watson wrote:
Grandma's Hands is a song written by Bill Withers about his grandmother. It was included on his first album Just as I Am (1971), and was released as a single, reaching number 18 on the Best Selling Soul Singles chart and 42 on the Billboard Hot 100.
In Canada it reached No. 37 in the RPM Magazine charts. The song was produced by Booker T. Jones and also featured drummer Al Jackson Jr. and bassist Duck Dunn from Booker T. & the M.G.'s.
Withers' maternal grandfather, Gracchus Monroe Galloway (1855-1937), had been born into slavery. In his youth, Withers attended church with his maternal grandmother, Lula (1868-1953), where she would sing and clap along with the hymns. He later said: It was spontaneous singing, there was nothing programmed. People got up and sang and everybody would join in. It was my favorite kind of singing.
Though Withers has passed on, his song continues to be covered, and not just by U.S. artists. One of my favorite newer versions is this collaboration between French soul singer/songwriter Benjamin Duterde, known by his stage name “Ben L’Oncle Soul,” and Grammy Award-winning jazz, soul, and gospel singer/songwriter Gregory Porter.
In interviews, Porter always talks about the love and inspiration he had from his mom, Ruth, who was a minister. She died of cancer when Porter was just 21. He told George Varga in a 2020 interview for The San Diego-Union Tribune about his childhood growing up in Bakersfield, California, where his mother helped him and his siblings get through some very rough times.
As one of only two Black families in their neighborhood at the time, the Porters were regularly subjected to racial hatred. Gregory’s brother, Brian, was shot and wounded while walking home from work. A 30-foot cross was placed in the family’s yard and burned. Pumpkins, watermelons and bottles filled with urine were thrown through their windows.
“The demographics have changed quite a bit in Bakersfield, and it’s quite nice now. What happened back then is all surreal when I think about it now. A lot of memories come back, of our being stopped by the police and questioned in front of our house, my brother being shot by two racists in a truck. ... Those memories come back. So do memories of my mother saying that we were not below anyone, that we should command respect, and — when we weren’t getting it — to let her know. She told us: ‘Always stand up and be OK with who you are.’
“Now, as a child, you ask: ‘What is it about me that is so wrong?’ (Racism) can shake you in your formative foundational times, and shake your confidence about your Blackness or your culture. My mom was in our face, all the time, letting us know: ‘Who you are is beautiful’.”
Here is his “Mother’s Song”:
Listen and gather 'round me children
Children of a mother whose life lifted up love
Listen, and gather 'round me children
Children of a mother whose life lifted up peace
A mother who taught all of her children
To love and be loved by each other
Hold your sister's hand as she walks across life
And look out for each other
Carry your brother's load
Don't you ever, ever betray him
Go to the store, buy grandmamma a pound of love
Jazz chanteuse Dianne Reeves sings about her grandmother in this wonderful tribute, composed by Reeves and Tony Donn Edward Lorrich, and recorded live at the Newport Jazz Festival in 2000:
Silver gray hair neatly combed in place.
There were four generations of love on her face.
She was so wise, no surprise passed her eyes,
She'd seen it all.
I was a child, oh, about three or four.
All day I'd ask questions.
At night I'd ask more.
But whenever; she never, would ever, turn me away.
I'd say how can I be sure what is right or wrong ?
And why does what I want always take so long ?
Please tell me where does God live
And why won't He talk to me ?
I'd say, Grandma what is love ?
Will I ever find out ?
Why are we so poor, what is life about ?
I want to know the answers before I fall off to sleep.
She sort of smiled as she tucked me in.
Then she pulled up that old rockin' chair once again.
But tonight she was slightly, remarkably
Different somehow
Slowly she rocked, lookin' half asleep.
Grandma yawned as she stretched.
Then she started to speak.
What she told me, would mold me, and hold me
Together inside.
She said all the things you ask
You will know someday.
But you have got to live in a patient way.
God put us here by fate
And by fate that means better days.
She said, child we are all moons in the dark of night.
Ain't no morning gonna come 'til the time is right.
Can't get to better days lest you make it through the night.
You gotta make it through the night, yes you do.
You can't get to no better days
Unless you make it through the night.
Oh, you will see those better days
But you gotta be patient.
(Be patient) oh baby, be patient.
Later that year, at the turn of spring,
Heaven sent angels down and gave Grandma her wings.
Now, she's flying, and sliding, and gliding
In better days
And although I'm all grown up
I still get confused.
I stumble through the dark
Getting bumped and bruised.
When night gets in my way
I could still hear my Grandma say
I can hear her say,
I can hear her say.
You can't get to no better days
Unless you make it through the night baby.
(Be patient) Oh, you will see those better days
But you gotta be patient.
Child, do you hear me, yeah.
You can't get to no better days
Unless you make it, you got to make it
You got to make it
You got to make it through the night
Oh Grandma, oh Grandma
Do you see me now, lady
Oh oh oh oh oh
She used to sit me on her knee
She used to comb my hair
She used to tell me stories
My Grandma took me everywhere
The History Makers has a full biography of Reeves and an extensive number of recorded interviews with her:
Jazz singer Dianne Reeves was born on October 23, 1956 in Detroit, Michigan. Her father passed away when she was two years old, leaving Reeves to be reared by her mother, Vada Swanson, and maternal family members in Denver, Colorado. Reeves’ uncle, Charles Burrell, was a bassist in the Colorado Symphony who introduced Reeves to jazz.
Reeves dedicated a song to her mom, Vada Swanson Reeves, who passed in 2012. Interviewed in 2008 for a story by Jeffrey Wolf for KUSA-TV in Denver, her mom was there with her:
The still spry Vada drives and is out of the house most mornings at 8:30 AM. A very close-knit family, Vada has taught her two daughters life lessons with a firm hand and an unflinching faith.
"We know life is a circle we learn to talk to each other, we don't have to scream or yell, and that is such a wonderful blessing for me," she said. [...]
Dianne has a special message this Mother's Day: "Happy Mother's Day to all of the wonderful mothers out there—peace, light, love, joy and good health, and may all of your stories have happy endings, but more importantly, tell your life stories, they are the fabric of our families that keep us together."
“Today Will Be a Good Day” is a rollicking tune that will get you up and lift your spirits—let’s give a hearty thank you to her mom for inspiring it!
I’ll close this part of today’s tribute with some gospel, which both my grandmothers—one Black and one white—loved dearly.
Though there are many well-known versions of “If I Could Only Hear My Mother Pray Again,” a gospel standard written in 1922 by John Whitfield “Whit” Vaughan and popularized by Mahalia Jackson, I love the live audience response from people at the Apollo Theater in 2004, and the interaction between Ben Harper and the Blind Boys of Alabama.
The song is on their 2004 album, There Will A Light, which won the 2005 Grammy Award for Best Traditional Soul Gospel Album.
I have lots more music to share in the comments section down below, and hope you will join me and play whatever special songs you love for the woman or women who have mothered you—today, and all year round.