(S)KIN

Two teens, one a Black girl from the Caribbean and one a Black biracial girl from Brooklyn, struggle to find their identities.

Fifteen-year-old Marisol and her mother, Lourdes, have recently settled in a tiny apartment in Brooklyn. They are soucouyant, witches who shed their skins during the new moon and “sip from / a soul,” nourishing themselves through the life force of their enemies. But the American dream Mummy is seeking doesn’t include freedom for Marisol, who feels “forever alone.” Monthly she shape-shifts, igniting her firesoul and shedding a layer of the skin—“Black, girl, poor, and immigrant”—given to her in America. Seventeen-year-old Genevieve lives with her white anthropologist father, white stepmother, and twin half siblings. She dreams of her mother, a Black woman who’s a mystery, and struggles with her skin, which feels like it will “burn and melt,” itching “like a billion tiny needles.” The girls’ worlds collide when Lourdes is hired as a nanny by Genevieve’s stepmother. Marisol and Genevieve are two sides of the same coin, both reaching for maternal connections, and soon, loyalties in their families and within themselves will be tested. The girls’ intertwined tales, blurring and shifting over the course of the narrative, unfold in lyrical alternating first-person verse and are cleverly used to discuss beauty ideals and colorism. Readers will enjoy the ways the monstrous characters’ human facades shift unexpectedly.

A vividly creative, heart-pounding poetic journey infused with Caribbean folklore.