I saw a spider once. I was 14, absently pushing the lawnmower forward across my front yard, and then I froze. A web hung only inches from my face, suspended between the spiked branches of a fir tree. And there it was--the spider. The size of a glass bead, it watched me with a dozen … Continue reading storm progression
I wrote these words two months ago, but the events of the past weeks in regards to Philando Castile and Charleena Lyles drew me to revisit them today and finally post this... I take a seat at the diversity training the way I usually do: leaned forward and legs crossed. I nod at a few … Continue reading fragile
What are you? Human--unless aliens a la Star Trek secretly inhabit my body (sometimes I do wonder...). I also happen to be, as you see, brown of skin with curls that I am currently avoiding the impulse to drag my fingers through. I am also a loquacious nerd with an affinity for Thai curry, but somehow … Continue reading being ethnic: part I
“A man devoid of hope and conscious of being so has ceased to belong to the future.” Albert Camus Last night I committed an act of resistance: I allowed myself to feel. When the hashtags announcing the death of another person of color cease as a trend and become a weekly inevitability, numbness feels like … Continue reading the sisyphus prayer
Jordan Edwards is dead. When I lift my fingers to type, they drum down on the keys with the weight of this--the names of the people Racism has stolen from my communities. They are not just headlines that will pass away; they are not just bodies behind bars. Yet I live in a country where … Continue reading to write and riot: one year later
Would a white doctor be dragged through the aisle of an airplane for not leaving his seat? I ask this question not only because it's timely, but because I've asked this question for a hundred different scenarios: Would a white woman be scolded in this situation, her feelings called paranoid? Would a white man's motives … Continue reading getting out: part II
I've never been strapped to a chair in preparation for lobotomy, but when I saw the horror in David Kaluuya's eyes as his character's desperate situation dawned on him, I discovered that the pounding of my heart in sync with his was not new...it was familiar. I didn't know what to expect when I sat … Continue reading getting out: part I
