Triumph! A Battle Plan for Joy by Gladys Simmons Carson Excerpt & Giveaway

Book blurb and cover

Title: Triumph! A Battle Plan for Joy

Author: Gladys Simmons Carson

Genre: Inspirational Memoir

When medical malpractice takes the life of her mother and the offense is dismissed as an unfortunate mistake, it rips a hole in seven-year-old Gladys’ heart and ignites fire in her anger. This act of gross negligence strips her of the joyful delight that has characterized her existence. Before she can grasp the full meaning of her loss, fate takes her on a journey through a series of harsh realities, including devastating child abuse, demeaning segregation and destructive thinking. These unsavory enemies assault her on all fronts, physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally. But the child warrior uses youthful wisdom to triumph over the effects of them all. Her prize is a resurgence of bountiful joy. You may laugh or cry, but you will definitely cheer for the child warrior in TRIUMPH! A BATTLE PLAN FOR JOY.

Author Bio

Gladys Simmons Carson is an inspirational speaker and author of the much-talked-about memoir, “Triumph! A Battle Plan for Joy. For more than 45 years she has challenged and encouraged audiences with her message of assurance. Now in her debut book she gives insight into how we too can choose joy despite our circumstances.

Her passion for writing stems from an early introduction to the written word. By age three she was reading her older siblings’ school books. By age four she was introduced to her first novel, Betty Smith’s “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.” This early exposure gave birth to a love affair with books and a fascination for writing. By the time she reached adult status, she had evolved into a natural encourager with a wealth of information to share, and a zeal for sharing.

Links

Amazon: www.Amazon.com/author/gladyscarson
Online Press Kit:  www.gladyscarson.com/press
Website: www.gladyscarson.com
Book Trailer: www.gladyscarson.tv
Twitter: www.twitter.com/gladys_carson
Facebook: www.facebook.com/gladyssimmonscarson

Excerpt

In the hostility of segregated existence, African American parents protected their children from much of racism’s viciousness. They forewent their own comfort, and yes, their pride, to spare the children. They suffered indignities, withstood inhumanities, suppressed anger, masked resentment, and silently bore the pains of belittlement. Yet they held their heads high, and defeated the shame, finding solace in their hope for future generations.

As dictated by Jim Crow, we lived in our own communities, attended our own churches and schools, and enjoyed our own concerts and dances. On Saturdays, we went to see our own movies at the Harlem Theater. A few times we climbed some outside stairs to sit in the balcony at the Majestic Theater, precluding any contact with White moviegoers. They showed better films there. But the awkwardness of the experience underscored our relegation to second-class citizenship. So we preferred substandard movies at the Harlem Theater over substandard treatment at the Majestic.

While still a teenager, ambition enticed me to venture beyond the bounds of community to explore summer job opportunities beyond the invisible walls. I surrendered to the enticement. Equipped with the best preparation available, I stepped from behind my family’s protective shield, out of the village, and into the White man’s world.

I entered that world confident I had everything I needed to succeed: the forewarnings of family and friends, above-average intelligence, deep-rooted motivation, theoretical awareness of real-world inequities, and a philosophy for coping with face-to-face racism. Yet, despite my strong will and careful preparation, I still lacked the wherewithal to circumvent a simple reality—the incompatibility of hard-core bigotry and my genetic makeup.

I did not know to pretend ignorance and hold my head down in a posture of insecurity. Therefore, my uppity insolence offended the White interviewers. That quickly took me out of the running for the summer “Colored” jobs advertised in the Dallas Times Herald. So I returned to the village empty-handed.

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