Last month, a Black woman held my hand for 2 hours. I held hers back. Though our hands cramped and tingled, we didn’t let go. We adjusted when necessary, giving…
First, I want you to imagine the voice(s) that told you you were unworthy of love as a child. Remember how stick-slippery it felt, the drummed echo underneath this voice…
Thinking about my mama and the ways that she has built her life for and around Black children. This is how she and my grandmother and so many of us…
Sometimes beasts enter into you all solemn, smelling like your mamas chicken. Sometimes they give you their names early and you mistake this willingness for nervous excitement instead of warning.…
o calmly wild;
there’s pure ecstasy in the way You see (through) me
the way You rip me apart in the name of edification
how do You find purity in my despair?
“to be born
is to have ravished
with tepid consent.
Pay your debt
with your life.”