Remembering Minne Bruce
In the fall of 2012, I enrolled in a writing class at Syracuse University. I worked there at the time and had tuition benefits that afforded me a few free credits each semester. I’d recently remembered that I wanted to be a writer (after more than a decade of settling into a practical career and busying myself with the other demands of life) and had dabbled in a couple of online creative writing classes to get back into the swing of things. But this was no regular old creative writing class; this one changed my life.
This one was with Minnie Bruce Pratt.
It wasn’t strictly a creative writing course. Queer Narratives, I think it was called. We read and wrote and talked about the intersections of gender, race, sexuality, and power. She pushed and prodded and made me think about myself and writing in ways I’d never been brave enough to before.
That spring, we became friendly. We bonded over life on the fringes of academia, deep ambivalence toward our Southern roots, and what it meant to be a writer. As Leslie’s health challenges increased, I would cook and bring over meals. Like my Mamaw would have, but queer. It made me feel like me as much as the writer’s voice she’d helped me find.
That summer, I went to a Pride party at their apartment—a wonderful afternoon full of queerness and community. She introduced me to friends and colleagues. “This is Dawn,” she said. “She’s a writer.” That simple phrase felt like a gift and permission and challenge and a swift kick in the pants all rolled into one.
We lost touch when I moved, but she remains one of the most influential people in my live—as a writer and as a queer femme. I will cherish those conversations and the encouraging words she scribbled on my drafts for the rest of my life.
She passed away this week. A friend shared the news, and I’ve been carrying around a kernel of sadness ever since. Though I do like to imagine that, in whatever way souls and spirits find their way after physical life is over, she and Leslie are together again. She remains deeply loved and will be deeply missed.
