A Reckoning with Autobiography: Reclaiming the “I” in our Writing.
The corner of Michelle Obama’s Becoming pokes out of my charcoal suede book-bag, collapsed on the wooden bench of a downtown cafe. It’s not quite 11 a.m. and sweat is forming on my upper lip like dew on a morning leaf. A fan laboriously circulates the hot air so that a wisp of hair stays plastered to my cheek. I’ve come to write, inspired by the latest chapter in Obama’s autobiography. She’s just shared how she met Barack; how, at age twenty-five, her geometric philosophy of