Dear Mr. Cohen: I’m writing you to discuss your latest column, “Racism vs. Reality” dated July 15, 2013 and to parse a point of logic with you—your considerably flawed logic concerning racial profiling. The gist of your column is that it’s unfair not to expect white people to be afraid of black men because they […]
Today is the day after Father’s Day, and this is the first year that I thought I would get past it without having an emotional meltdown. I’m married to a nice guy, and I gave up meat, a diet change that opened my spirituality in ways I never thought possible, and I decided that this […]
Once, I was really pathetic. And I was single. And I thought the two were connected. I admit it. I focused a lot on my pain back in the day, and I attracted not-very-nice men who were looking for a pathetic woman, because a pathetic woman is a weak woman who will put up with […]
I’m a radical Black feminist and proud of it, but I don’t call myself an activist. I write and once in a while I get paid for it, but that’s about it. You’re not going to see me marching in the streets or getting arrested, mainly because I was a victim of abuse in my […]
Dear Readers: Those people who have followed this blog know that any time I write about anything, I do it with passion. But passion takes a lot of energy. This year has been emotionally taxing, with the death of one of my good friends and that death occurring only a year and a half after […]
White slave ship captains used theology to justify the Middle Passage. Now Black Christian homophobia does exactly the same thing and blesses a new kind of slave ship.
Before I introduce my new guest blogger, I’d like to give a roundabout introduction to her, if I may. So please be patient. I was talking to my good friend Crystal Wilkinson this morning about one of our favorite writers, Toni Morrison, and her novel, Sula. I used to think Sula was an annoying, incomprehensible […]
I think the championing of the hoodie as a symbol of racial profiling is misguided.
Seventeen, not even marked by a real mustache. If you look at the picture, he’s still slight. Maybe he was destined to grow tall with big bones, a man’s hearty flesh clinging to his frame, but in this picture he hasn’t gotten that far. I remember a boy I once loved at that age. His kneecaps […]
Lucille Clifton is my absolute favorite poet in the world.