
She has received awards from the Rona Jaffe Foundation, the Lannan Foundation, and the New York Foundation for the Arts. Originally from Houston, Texas, she graduated in 2000 from Harvard University and was a Fulbright Scholar in the United Kingdom. Sharifa is writing a trilogy on African-Americans and utopia; her first book, Harlem is Nowhere, was published in January 2011 by Little, Brown & Company. (photo by Emily Raboteau).
Sharifa Rhodes-Pitts photo courtesy of Wide Vision Photography
Harlem
is Nowhere: A Journey to the Mecca of Black America
Click to order via
Amazon
Hardcover: 304 pages
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company (January 26, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 031601723X
ISBN-13: 978-0316017237
Product Dimensions: 6 x 1.2 x 8.8 inches
For a century Harlem has been celebrated as the capital of black America,
a thriving center of cultural achievement and political action. At a crucial
moment in Harlem's history, as gentrification encroaches, Sharifa
Rhodes-Pitts untangles the myth and meaning of Harlem's legacy. Examining
the epic Harlem of official history and the personal Harlem that begins at
her front door, Rhodes-Pitts introduces us to a wide variety of characters,
past and present. At the heart of their stories, and her own, is the hope
carried over many generations, hope that Harlem would be the ground from
which blacks fully entered America's democracy.
Rhodes-Pitts is a brilliant new voice who, like other significant
chroniclers of places-Joan Didion on California, or Jamaica Kincaid on
Antigua-captures the very essence of her subject.
Related Links
Official Website
http://sharifarhodespitts.com/
Harlem Revisited: PW Talks with Sharifa Rhodes-Pitts
http://aalbc.it/sharifa_pw
New York Times Artcile - "Young Writer Searches for Harlem"
http://aalbc.it/sharifa_nyt
"Lenox Terminal" by Sharifa Rhodes-Pitts
the essay that led to HARLEM IS NOWHERE. Published in Transition magazine,
2004
http://www.transitionmagazine.com/articles/lenox.htm
by Sharifa Rhodes-Pitts
Most everything I write here is true and happened on or
around Lenox Avenue. This is where I live now; if you stand at its center,
the crossing at 125th Street, and look north and then south, you’ll see it
come to a dead stop at both ends. It begins at the top of the park, where
you can see the Harlem Meer, where I saw fireflies in summer and where each
winter, I am told, teenagers drown trying to walk across the half-frozen
ice. When I first moved here, to 120th Street, I was happy to be close to
this secret, manmade lake, with its Dutch name, Haarlem Meer, the Lake of
Harlem. Lenox Avenue begins there at 110th Street and ends up at 149th
Street or so; I have never been to the very end of it. At the end a bridge
goes over the Harlem River and then suddenly it is the Bronx. The Harlem
River is not a real river, just as the Harlem Meer is not a sea or even a
real lake, and Lenox Avenue is technically Sixth Avenue. Downtown it is
called Avenue of the Americas before it runs into the south end of the park,
and up town it is called Malcolm X Boulevard, but only by the kind of person
who insists on calling Bombay Mumbai or Calcutta Kolkata. They would also
feel the need to call Eighth Avenue, Frederick Douglass Boulevard and
Seventh Avenue, Adam Clayton Powell, Jr., Boulevard. One Hundred
Twenty-Fifth Street is also called Martin Luther King, Jr. Boulevard, but
I’ve never heard anyone insist upon it. I don’t call any of these by their
second names. The point is that Lenox Avenue doesn’t go anywhere, and yet it
is thought to be the most important thoroughfare of the most important place
for black people in America, if not the world.