When I was younger, my mom would always tell me to write when I felt confused or hurt or angry. She would say that once I could start putting everything inside of me into some language that made sense to me, that in the creation, I would start to understand myself more. I often think… Continue reading Creating Myself to Freedom
If I believed that this world gave trigger warnings to black folk, I might ask for one before each time they show me you, Tamir. The way the ground comes out from under me, and my throat tightens. I sit around thinking about the lethality of existence and hope to God that there are playgrounds in… Continue reading Imagining Freedom.