Linear time and progress is one of the most harmful lies of white supremacy. Some things permanently alter you. Sometimes the world does stop. For me in 2016 when my life crashed and veered from a singular event, I expected that my relationship with it would be one that the farther I got from it,… Continue reading Healing in the Middle
Last night I tossed and turned, the air filled with a nightmare mix of air fresheners and bullets. This afternoon when I hit 'end' on my last call for the day, my body instantly doubled over, racked with uncontrollable tears, as I curled into a ball, holding myself and shaking. Daunte. Another name I should… Continue reading “We Go Out for Sweets & Come Back”
About a year and a half ago, before I even had a year under my belt living in the Bay, I went to a conference held by the National Association for Adventurous Black Women. The keynote speaker that day spoke on a message that I still return to and meditate on, and it recently came… Continue reading Revisiting.
A white man called me 'nigger' in the BART station yesterday. He was standing alone on the platform. He watched me as I came down the escalators, hatred shining in his eyes as I drew closer. He glared at me and then he hurled the word out of his twisted mouth, as if he were spitting… Continue reading A White Man Called Me “Nigger” in the BART Station Yesterday
For far too long we have been seduced into walking a path that did not lead us to ourselves. For far too long we have said yes when we wanted to say no. And for far too long we have said no when we desperately wanted to say yes. . . . When we don't… Continue reading The Trust We Owe Ourselves
While reading Terry Tempest Williams I came across this line: “Women piece together their lives from the scraps left over for them.” Young girls are too often socialized to think of their highest calling in life is to give freely of themselves to others. While there is nothing inherently wrong with living a life of… Continue reading A Deliberate Life of Healing
The staples of my desk at work consists of red chili pepper flakes, salt, a glass name plate, and a black and white photograph of James Baldwin. I am sure others wonder why I have a photograph of James Baldwin on my desk, when they have family photos and old cards, because I can see their quizzical… Continue reading On the Broken Nights, Generating Healing
This was the first time that I did not begin a new journey with time spent reflecting in the Town Where Time Does Not Reside. I boarded my flight in London and came straight to this new beginning in Philadelphia, the weight of time zones and memories jarring the journey. There was a moment on… Continue reading Choice Revisited: A Black Woman Reflects on Alice Walker and Returning Home