Thousand Oaks, California I flew from coast to coast when I was nine years old. My father found work in August and in September, he shepherded our family from Silver Spring, Maryland to Thousand Oaks, California. I still…
Read More
Grandmothers Some little girls, with plaits and blemishes, cook rice and jerk chicken as the heat crawls down their spine in the shack. They wipe tears of beach water and vulnerability from their walls of sacrifice. They eat dinner, wishing…
More
It was cold on the way to Grandma’s house. Mom had plucked Tye and Jordan from their beds at some still-nighttime hour of the…
More
“They’re making fun of my Arabic,” whispers my cousin as he squeezes next to me. I roll my eyes, unwilling to move over. My…
More
“Curse this damned place. I don’t want anything to do with here.” Holson, my best childhood friend, slammed the door and headed off on…
More
Si·en·na /sēˈenə/ noun a kind of ferruginous earth used as a pigment in painting, normally yellowish-brown in color (raw sienna) or deep reddish-brown when roasted (burnt sienna). …
More
For seven days straight, I’d dreamed of snapping green beans at my Nana’s feet, on the floor in the dining room, up against the wall with a metal…
More
The girl you ask to dinner will never show you her true face. Her deep, caramelized skin is carefully concealed beneath layers of formality and…
More
My daughter is black. Skin like turned earth. Eyes the color of midnight. A black freckle on the underside of her wrist matches mine and…
More
Thousand Oaks, California I flew from coast to coast when I was nine years old. My father found work in August and in September, he…
More
I was twenty-four years old when I learned about the Central Park Case. Browsing the documentary section on Amazon Prime, I happened upon a description…
More