57 is like… Last winter daddy was dying. This winter Colette is on the verge We wait to greet her God willing. I worry about judgment I need to be chill Maybe I’m January And Jinghuan’s May Unintentional as Oedipus, I thought she was a pretty prosthelytizer She thought I was sweaty, heavy and younger… Continue reading 57 is like…
Why It’s Not Okay to Call a Human Illegal and How Yoga Helped Me Speak Up
“We came to this country to unite, you need to show them we are here to work hard. That’s it. You show them by example not by arguing or crying.” Those were my fathers words when I was crying after somebody made a racist comment about Mexicans being lazy. I took my father’s advice to… Continue reading Why It’s Not Okay to Call a Human Illegal and How Yoga Helped Me Speak Up
We.
brothas: you are right. They don’t care. They may never. but We do. don’t let their abuse become an excuse to relinquish your life and your heart. look at consider draw inspiration from your babies, siblings, aunties, daddies, nanas, mamas, spouses, loved ones, pop-pops, cousins, homies, uncles, mom-moms… …We. the lovers that take you in,… Continue reading We.
Strang(er) Fruit
Strange fruit, now covering the streets Juice bleeding black, dripping at my feet Black bodies dropping with each new day Quickly becoming the amerikkkan way Blatant bleaching of the stars & stripes Profiles to fit all stereotypes Cries for justice fall on deaf ears We be the victims of their fears Here is the fruit… Continue reading Strang(er) Fruit
Open Letter From a Mother
Child, there is greatness in your lineage I won’t trace each and every root for you they’re too nappy Lord knows this tree been grown in some shit soil beady with miseducation southern fried and fatty but there was greatness here still is set in North Carolina cotton fields we had no business breaking mason… Continue reading Open Letter From a Mother
A Slave’s Christmas Story
Solomon Northup was a free black man from Minerva, New York who married the love of his life on Christmas Day in 1829. Northup was born in July of 1808 to a freed slave, Mintus, and a “woman of color” (reportedly one-quarter African-American, and three-quarters European) whose name is unknown. He was raised on the… Continue reading A Slave’s Christmas Story
Why We Need Spike Lee’s Chi-Raq
It’s not wise to underestimate how movies can shape a young person’s life. Twenty years ago, when I was a teenager, Tales From the Hood played a tremendous role in my growing up. The movie, through an infusion of horror and humor, showed several stories dealing with racism and Black men growing up in urban… Continue reading Why We Need Spike Lee’s Chi-Raq
Special Delivery: The U.S. Capitol Christmas Tree
Something out of the ordinary happened on Black Friday. I was actually in a shopping mall, shopping for something I needed. I had every intention of joining my friends at REI in “opting out” of the day after Thanksgiving spending frenzy, but there were a few critical items I needed for my next Joy Trip.… Continue reading Special Delivery: The U.S. Capitol Christmas Tree
Gemini Boy (A Fictional Short Story)
Bernard McMain, now known as inmate 999341, spent most of the night grasping for the memory of touch; his mother’s touch, to be exact. She had written him for the last time a month ago. “I don’t wish to burden you with this news, but I’m dying. I’ve known for a while and hoped against… Continue reading Gemini Boy (A Fictional Short Story)
Searching For Identity In the Realm of Black Hair
A few weeks ago, I stepped away from the kinky/curly hair community for a basic haircut. I’d re-entered the space with an understanding of how I revel in the fragmentation of the African-American community. While I question what it means to be united with other African-Americans, I used my hair to play up my self-worth.… Continue reading Searching For Identity In the Realm of Black Hair