My Mother’s Daughter

My mother was a screamer, a hitter, and a destroyer of things. She taught me the power of language when she wielded her words like weapons that could slice you to the bone and pierce the deepest parts of your soul. The boom of her voice was enough to terrify us, the sharpness of her... Continue Reading →

We Are Failing Black Boys

I keep seeing this argument being made that black boys are being "coddled" and that this is why many of them grow up to struggle as men. What confuses me most about this argument is that it's most often used in conversations about black men who have criminal records, histories of violence, low education and... Continue Reading →

Love Letters to My Firstborn (vol. 1)

May 25th, 2018: Today was long, and draining, and defeating. Each day, my daughter grows older and smarter and more fiercely independent. I've raised her to own her body, to speak her mind, and to question everything. I love that she does these things. I hate that she does these things. I try to avoid... Continue Reading →

A Word About Bodily Autonomy

It doesn't start with penetration. It starts with "where's your smile?" It starts with ogling, with catcalling, With being followed down the street by men demanding attention. It starts with "fuck you bitch" when I don't respond. It starts with unwelcome advances and unwanted touching, And being met with anger when I ask you to... Continue Reading →

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