History, Lafayette Park, and Me

On history: Our institutions have a funny way of presenting history as a distant fairytale, confined to textbooks, “unbiased words”, and old pictures. I however, am convinced that time, particularly for black people, is an illusion. Our so-called distant pasts constantly leap out of old dusty libraries and tweet on the internet. Freedom fighters with…

Your Silence Will Not Protect You. Period.

I do not have anything eloquent to say about the murder of George Floyd. I have been trying to string together words for days now, but I am convinced God is not interested in helping me make my pain sound pretty. Pain is intentionally rough and jagged, meant to be horrifying to look at, and…

A short story about the truth

  The Elders: A Walk with Lilies I love Thursday afternoons. They are always my favorite days. The air is always crisp on Thursdays, food tastes a little bit better, and my heart beats in tune with my steps. My breath fills my lungs and escapes on an excursion to my whole body. I can…

Miseducation: Psalms for Mother’s Day

When I was little I always looked up. Quite literally because small people live in a world filled with largeness. The usual suspects were up there: the sun, trees, and TVs mounted high onto walls. Soon, blue, white, and yellow skies were replaced with The Goldens adorned with their silky straight back cornrows, Christina Milian…

Whispers

I spent the last few days writing the most destructive, negative piece of work I think has ever come into my conscience. As soon as I proofread it for the 56th time, fussed over a few commas, and consulted with the last appointed editor, my spirit told me to scrap it. If I’m honest, I…

Red

I am struggling with the extent to which I should explain my absence. I am aware that right now, I am typing into the abyss. There is no absence to expound upon. My ego is not large enough to believe I was missed. I am not Beyoncé. I do not have a mass following that…