When I was white, it wasn’t on purpose. It wasn’t intentional. It started because I was a square peg coveting circles. It started because I stuck out everywhere, even when I didn’t want the attention. Even when race and gender didn’t play a role. I just didn’t seem to belong anywhere. About seven years ago … Continue reading Black On Both Sides
My mother used to make our clothes when we were younger. In fifth grade my favorite was a black and green checkered pattern two-piece. The top fit like a suit jacket with box shoulders and mid-length sleeves. The bottoms were shorts that swam past my knees. Whenever I’d wear it, I’d get permission to wear … Continue reading Save Tonight.
I’ve always been entitled and spoiled, but I haven’t always admitted it. Too many people close to me told me I was special and capable of great things. I carried it with me. I used it as a pedestal. I used it as a crutch. I used it to stunt relationships, to leave jobs, and … Continue reading Day 7, Week 33: You Are The Last Dragon
When I moved to Chicago I was scared. I only brought a few essentials: books and shoes, anger-coated confidence. I was a stranger in a strange land, so I proceeded with caution. I harbored no expectations and packed very little fear. I meant to make a living not a life, but time is partial to entrapment. … Continue reading You Have to Build It
Everyone called her Mother. It didn't particularly matter how you were affiliated. She was my great-grandmother on my father's side. Tall and slender, and aptly named Maud (although I didn't learn that until years after her passing). She had a nickname for everyone. Mine was Sittin' Hen. Even as a child I resented it because … Continue reading Day 7, Week 29: What Are You Willing To Give Up?
My niece changed my life, but she doesn't know it (partly because she's six, but also because I've never told her). Before she was born, I had a picture in my head of who I was and what I wanted. Her life exposed me, made me aware of my bias and my privilege. She made … Continue reading To Live, Joyfully
When I was younger, I understood that black women were supposed to be angry. Since stereotypes frustrate me, I became especially motivated to a) understand anger and not to b) embody the stereotype with my actions or my words. Understanding anger is easy. All you have to do is underline the cause and disentangle the … Continue reading The Upside of Anger (…continued)