For the last few days, I’ve been reading about Miley Cyrus’s VMA—ahem—performance, which included her attempt at the African/American dance called “twerking,” and which apparently convinced a lot of people that it was okay for women (of any race) without rhythm to try anything that involved booty-shaking. There were a lot of parents upset that […]
First, this blog post is not to curry favor with conservative, extremely right-wing white folks who don’t like African Americans, but who suddenly are pretending to take interest in “black community issues” so they can practice their Strange White Supremacist Hoodoo Rituals in public, instead of the privacy of their own homes. I’m talking to […]
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 think the championing of the hoodie as a symbol of racial profiling is misguided.
Years ago, in graduate school, I was one of only three African Americans in my Master of Fine Arts creative writing program. That was in the fall; in the spring, one of us dropped out. And then there were two. I remember sitting in my graduate poetry workshops surrounded by folks who didn’t look like […]
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 […]
It’s not that I need to see heroes or doctors or lawyers or Tuskegee Airmen as opposed to drug dealers or absent fathers or crack addicted sex-workers–or maids.
Today is the birthday of W.E.B. DuBois!