I do the kind of work where I am often called to hold space for others while I am still processing the terrors of the moment. It's never easy, but it's necessary. And even though I believe I've often done some of my strongest and deepest community work like this, I am often left depleted,… Continue reading Terror.
From age 4 to 18 I lived in the type of sleepy towns you read about in books, where people don't always lock their doors, unless of course you're us - the only non-white family around for many years. In that case your world is surrounded by Confederate flags in a state that was part… Continue reading Saying Goodbye to A Town Where Time Does Not Reside, Part 1
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
Odelia Younge 