31 Days of Liminality


I am #AtatianaJackson. I am #SandraBland.  In making my peace with present-day matters of race, gender, and power in America; in finding a way through my disappointment, frustration, and fear, I had to embrace that as a woman of African descent in modern American,  my life has very little value.

Sit with that.

Friends reach out to me, offering virtual wellness checks,  like the neighbor who worried about Atatiana. A wellness check. I’ll never trust that again.

A Wellness Check

I am overstimulated to the point of exhaustion. I am weary. Spent. I thought I’d had enough worrying about my husband, son, brother, nephews, cousins, etc., all the men I love desperately, bravely living while Black in America where it seems we are constantly reminded we do not belong, we are not worthy, we do not have a valid stake.

It is my son’s plan to become an ex-pat after completing his degree. He believes that he’s not safe in his mother country, and he’s not wrong.

Sit with that for a moment.

I am reminded that just 5 years ago, I was actually having conversations with people I love about‪ #‎IfIDieinPoliceCustody as a real thing. At the time, I counseled my son, #IfIDieinPoliceCustody, know this

I did not commit suicide, don’t let anyone touch my body, and please, look after your father.

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