Today, on International Women’s Day, I’ve been thinking about my grandmother, whose seven grandchildren and dozen or so great-grandchildren lovingly called Grandma Dee.
But before she was Grandma Dee, she was Ora.
Her full name was Ora Dee Jones, and like many names passed quietly through generations of African-American families, it carried a meaning far deeper than I understood as a child.
The name Ora comes from Hebrew, where it means “light.”
For me, Grandma Dee’s was like the soft glow of candles, the quiet warmth that fills a room, the kind of light that guides people home.
When I learned the meaning of my grandmother’s name just this year, I realized something remarkable.
It described my grandmother perfectly. It’s also the meaning of my middle name, Elaine, which is Greek. Plus, it’s the theme of my No. 1 bestselling book, “What Is Light?“
This all just seems like so much more than a coincidence! Maybe, I was born to shed light on my grandmother’s story.
She was born in 1919 in rural Alabama during a time when the world often tried to dim the brilliance of Black women. Opportunities were limited, schools were segregated, and her own dream of becoming a nurse was cut short when her school ended after the ninth grade in the Jim Crow Era of the Deep South.
And yet, she shined her light anyway.
She carried that light north during the Great Migration, moving to Youngstown, Ohio as a young woman where she built a life, got married, raised a family, and filled her kitchen with meals that turned ordinary days into heart-warming moments.
Her sweet potato pies, caramel cakes, and pineapple upside-down cakes became family legend.
But her greatest gift was not the food—it was the feeling she created around the table.
A sense that you belonged.
That you were capable.
That the future held something bright for you.
In Hebrew, the word ora is linked to illumination, joy, and spiritual warmth.
That idea resonates deeply with me when I think about the quiet power of Black women like Grandma Dee, who defied the odds in the most discriminatory times of modern times to create a beautiful life.
History often celebrates the loudest lights, the famous names, the headline makers. But in our families, we know another truth: whole societies are sustained by the women whose light burns steadily in our homes, churches, classrooms, and around our kitchen tables—women like my grandmother.
And women like the remarkable figures who also carried the name Ora.
Ora Mae Washington, a trailblazing African-American tennis champion who dominated the sport during segregation.
Ora Newsome, one of the first Black women to earn a Ph.D. in mathematics and a brilliant educator.
And in a different generation entirely, Rita Ora, a global performer whose name continues to shine on the world stage.
Different paths.
Different eras.
The same luminous name.
Today, on International Women’s Day, I’m reflecting on the women whose light shaped us—the grandmothers who encouraged education, the mothers who kept families moving forward, and the daughters who will carry those dreams even further.
Grandma Dee—Ora Dee to her friends and contemporaries—lived to be 96 years old. She never became a nurse, but she helped everyone she came in contact with through her kindness and welcoming spirit.
In many ways, that spirit inspired my upcoming children’s book, Grandma Dee’s Pineapple Upside-Down Cake.
It’s a story about more than baking, it’s about the quiet ways love and wisdom travel from one generation of women to the next through the simplest of activities.
If you’d like to learn more about the book, and the story inspired by my grandmother’s kitchen, then I welcome you to explore it here.
