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We found a marriage certificate from 1929 listing Odessa’s race as white, alongside a birth record from an entirely different state four years earlier that told a considerably more complicated story about exactly who she’d actually been born as.
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“She survived something I can’t fully imagine,” Corinne told me one evening, both of us looking through the old photographs spread across our kitchen table, Owen and Malcolm asleep upstairs in the same room, their two different faces somehow both carrying pieces of the same long, complicated family story.
