In my 41 years on this earth, there have only been two times that I was truly afraid of dying. The first was in 1999 when I learned of the death of James Byrd Jr. in Jasper, Texas. The second time was in 2017 when my friend Anh died in a plane crash. These moments are significant for me – Byrd’s horrible murder told me how much America hates the Black man. Anh’s death hit me hard because this was someone who was going after her goals and taken from…
Going to see a shrink? That’s something white folks do,” I’d hear as a kid. “They got the money for that kinda shit. We can’t afford to lay on no couch and tell somebody why we sad or why my dad didn’t play with me enough.”
When I saw The Met, I remember just looking at it for a couple of minutes. Staring at its elegance, opulence, and beauty, I was at awe.
I am seeing on Facebook and other social media platforms the sharing of the migrant father and daughter, laying in a pool of water reportedly dead. This photo getting a lot of attention, and whenever I see something like this, I have to ask myself, “Why are we sharing dead bodies of Black and Brown folks? I wrote a piece called “Stop Sharing Black Pain” in which I talked about the repeated trauma and mental terror that Black people receive when videos of Black men and women being killed by…
Eating the proper foods, drinking plenty of water, and taking the correct vitamins are incredibly important to survival. These take on greater importance when children are involved. Having access to healthy foods is a very important component to developing minds and bodies. Grocery stores that sell vegetables and fruits are necessary to aid kids and teenagers as they grow up
Thinking of the death of Nigel Shelby, the 15 year old Black kid who committed suicide due to being bullied for being Gay, I used to think that kids needed to be tough. I thought that we “babied” young people and that being bullied was a right of passage. I cannot tell you how wrong I was. In the age of social media, we often don’t understand how bulling has taken a more sinister turn. Instead of whispers in the hallway, cracking jokes, and notes passed around about people, there…
I was talking with a young man yesterday about the importance of travel. In the midst of loud music and sips (or in my case, gulps and stutters) of our drinks, I advised him to leave the country, see different sites. I remember a conversation like this years ago; an older man who I looked to for guidance had implored me to see the world. I liked this guy; he was always in a good mood and loved people. He had a sense of gravitas that I always admired and…
Growing up, I would hear stories from my male friends about how their baby sitters would kiss them or touch them in inappropriate ways. My friends would talk about making out with a “play aunt” or having sex with a family friend. It was not looked upon as a bad thing; in fact, it was something they bragged about. This was a rite of passage to many of us.
Some black folks would say, “Leave that ghetto shit at home. Talk like you got some sense!” I wanted to go far, get a nice job, and make money, so I would switch it on and off when I needed to. I felt like I was doing what I needed to do in order to become accepted in the world.
When I was younger, I would do and say things out of anger. I’d get mad and yell. I would regret the things I said and after some time, I would apologize. My Mother would accept my apology, but as I continued to do those things, she would get tired of my routine. One day after throwing a tantrum and apologizing after, she said, “You know, you keep saying you are sorry, and at some point it doesn’t mean anything.” I thought about that. I wanted my word and actions…
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