black is the color of my skin, grief is the color of my soul

growing up in racist, segregated kansas city, i was always aware of my blackness. mine was a childhood riddled with the absolute best expressions of black love juxtaposed with the absolute worst expressions of black hate. at 36, i’m growing weary of the american dream because for people who look like me it’s more of …

if we burn you burn with us

another day, another death, another funeral, another march, another protest, another militarized attack/response, another news cycle calling black people thugs and criminals, another shouting match on social media, another call for peace, another demand to forget and move on, another day in the life of a black american. i am depleted. my blackness is not a …

the unholy matrimony of race and religion

i am not an academic or great scholar. i studied communication theory in grad school at a christian university, but no one will accuse me of being an authority on exegising jesus, translating greek and hebrew into something mere mortals can understand, or drawing elaborate parallels between the divine and humanity. i’m not here for that. but …

this is an “outside your comfort” zone, flex all you want

life has a funny way of happening when you aren’t paying attention. the older you get, the faster time seems to move. if you aren’t careful, you’ll miss life while you’re waiting for things to happen. about a decade ago, i used to make a list of all the things i really wanted to happen …

warning: cloak may cause invisibility

writing is my therapy. over these last few months, with mounting racial tensions, outright displays of hatred, and low-key disbelief that my america has too many throwback moments to yesteryear, i find myself writing daily. multiple times a day. i have to get it out. because if i keep all this pain, anger, and rage …