“Firstborn Girls: A Memoir” by Bernice L. McFadden
c.2025,
Dutton
$30.00
400 pages
The Bible includes much begetting.
Cush begat Nimrod. Jacob begat Joseph. Abraham begat Isaac. Salmon begat Boaz, and Boaz begat Obed, and on and on and on. You might notice that those lines are all fathers and sons, sons and grandsons, but in the new book, “Firstborn Girls” by Bernice L. McFadden, it is like mother, like daughter.
For most of her life, Bernice McFadden was followed by her “angel ancestors,” who watched over her and kept her safe. They swung into action when she was a toddler trapped in a fiery car accident; they subtly stopped her many times when, as a young girl in Brooklyn, she considered killing her abusive, alcoholic father, Robert.
She was never sure why her mother, Vivian, stayed with Robert. Maybe it was because Vivian’s mother, Thelma, had loved abusive men, and other women in the family had had man problems. McFadden’s matriarchal tree was riddled by that kind of thing, by domestic violence, hasty marriages, and early death and early pregnancies. In addition, it seemed like every firstborn girl in McFadden’s lineage ran away at age 15.
And yet, for McFadden, there were many saving graces throughout her life. As a child, she spent time every year in Barbados, summering with extended family; there was always family around for support. Neither of her parents graduated from high school. However, she did—because of the car accident, she was able to escape her father’s abuse and attend a private high school in Pennsylvania and then college later.
And she kept tucked away a dream of being a writer.
When she was still quite young, McFadden cried when the main character on TV’s The Waltons published his first book. John Boy was a white man, though, and she didn’t dare think the opportunity was there for a Black girl. But she grew and learned, watched and learned some more, and she began to understand that knowledge is just another kind of seed, and seeds can grow into stories.
Have you ever accidentally eavesdropped on a stranger in a public place, and before you know it, whatever she’s saying makes you want to lean in and hear more? That’s what it’s like to read “Firstborn Girls.” You’d gladly give up your afternoon or skip your bus or train stop because you must know what’s next.
And when you do, it’s unbelievably satisfying. Author Bernice L. McFadden’s style invites her readers into her life, even in – especially in – the messy parts, and her candor is casual and comfortable without a speck of overwrought embellishment, which will make you feel as though you were there, right with her, in every event. She’s funny, gossipy, and relatable, precisely what you want in a memoir.
If you’re a fan of McFadden’s novels, “Firstborn Girls” is a peek inside a writer’s making, proving why Black authors are essential. If you want an extraordinary memoir from a first-rate storyteller, you should be getting it.
