Black Cake by Charmaine Wilkerson

Every November, something in the air starts whispering about togetherness. Families gather, holiday lights flicker on, and suddenly everyone’s expected to be cheerful, forgiving, and available. But beneath all that glitter, some of us are just trying to breathe. Some of us are still grieving, still untangling the knots of our bloodline, still learning how to love ourselves without the weight of tradition pressing on our chest.

That’s why this month we’re reading Black Cake, a story about family secrets, lineage, and the quiet rebellion of choosing truth over performance. It follows two siblings who, after their mother’s death, uncover the hidden life she never told them about. It’s not just a story of grief, it’s about how the things we inherit (both seen and unseen) can bind us, break us, or free us.

As the holidays approach, this book asks us:
✨ What do we owe to our lineage and what do we owe to ourselves?
✨ How much of our family’s silence is ours to carry?
✨ And when joy feels forced, what would it mean to let grief be our devotion instead?

Like the black cake itself, a traditional Caribbean dessert made for celebrations, this novel holds both sweetness and sorrow. It reminds us that we can still honor our ancestors without reenacting their pain. That we can celebrate without pretending. That boundaries are a form of love, too.

So this month, we read with softness. We grieve honestly. We release the guilt of not showing up everywhere we’re expected to. We let devotion look like rest, distance, truth.

Week 1: Inheritance & Silence (pgs 1 – 120 approx.)

Week 2: Lineage & Identity (pgs 121 – 230 approx.)

Week 3: Lineage Guilt & Boundaries (pgs 231 – 330 approx.)

Week 4: Release & Devotion (pgs 331 – End)

And when we reach the last page, we’ll have a ritual waiting — a salt + water grief bath and a letter burn — to cleanse whatever still clings.

Welcome to November. Welcome to your own unbinding.