Despite my treatment (and the millions of those like me) by this country, even as my voice (and at times my body) trembles, I rise, asserting my rights. I display the flag upside down. I am in EXTREME DISTRESS.
I never stop when I should. I have never believed that the rules of self and soul care applied to me, even as I excoriate those I loved, "Do Better." I steadfastly refuse to take my own advice.
A repost from a while ago. Often, it's experiencing your own words through someone else's lens that makes them fresh again.
Requiem; Here and Gone I've said often, my grandmother lives in me. In many ways, I am more like my mother than my Granny, but Lucille lives in me. I Love Fiercely It was always clear to us that we were sheltered. We were bathed in the glow of her pride, the warmth of her …
I don't trust your drive-by prayers
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.
Don’t tell me not to be angry. I’m not accusing anyone of anything, so don’t, as my mama says, “get your butt up on your shoulders.” If it’s not your shame, don’t take it on.
Yesterday on Facebook, I drew my line in the sand. It was a long time coming, and I'm not sorry. Taps the mic, "is this thing on?" PSA: I am a grown woman of African descent, born and raised in America. As a direct result of our current national leadership, and the freedom it grants …
Every morning, without fail, I rise, grab my phone, and read from the Bible. Photo by Mateus Souza on Pexels.com Why? In acknowledging my tech and social media addictions, ( I'm being honest, how about you?) I seek God before shenanigans; I have all day for those. Having endured many seasons of storm and want, …
The sad reality about America the Beautiful is that we are divided. Until we address the pain American racism continues to cause, to ignore it, particularly in the wake of such carnage, and in a church no less is, as Jon Stewart so beautifully put it, is to ignore "the nexus of a just gaping racial wound that will not heal, yet we pretend doesn’t exist."