“Then [Noah] sent out a raven, which kept going to and fro until the waters had dried up from the earth.” Genesis 8:7 As a child, I wanted to change my name. This desire was not particularly novel; children sometimes want to feel more unique,
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Hair like strong twine, sweet like the harvest of a California grape vine, to stop the spread of your smile is the worst crime, voice melodic like summer wind chimes, spirit divine, little Black girl I love you all time. My mother, sister, aunty, grandmother take hold of my thick, coarse head of black wool and divide my crown into
Hair like strong twine, sweet like the harvest of a California grape vine, to stop the spread of your smile is the worst crime,
“My name is Tavonne Carson. I’m six years old.” If she hadn’t said my name, I wouldn’t have believed the little girl calling from
The girl you ask to dinner will never show you her true face. Her deep, caramelized skin is carefully concealed beneath layers of formality
My story will be faithful to reality, or at least to my personal recollection of reality, which is the same thing. The events took
I guess I’ve been an art historian, informally I’d say I’ve always “geeked out over art,” since my teens in San Francisco. I didn’t
“Good lord, girl. You swelling!” The girl looked down at her belly, then beyond it down to her shoes, at this she was secretly satisfied. She was not pregnant and in punishment for her tardiness, her body had begun to form pockets of fat on her lower back, and a rounding belly that no amount of cardio had the power
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Jocelyn found it hard to focus on the date, although it had
Sydnee glanced at her phone and saw a text from her mother,
“Again! And sit up straight! You’re slouching.” Naledi repositioned herself on the
Shattering glass echoes in my ears, snapping my head up from my
Melam partially unzipped the full body control unit and took a deep breath. It was crafted from lightweight fabric, yet designed to fit snuggly
Mama always said the Devil is a lie. I remember thinking that before it happened. But Mama was wrong. The Devil isn’t some jealous
“3 A.M./Stare at the ceilin’, murder the feelin’/Spider crawl in the corner—Brown Recluse./So appropriate” I rap, far too passionately. Honestly, there is no excuse
Cast aside the bloody hands of the self-righteous for they brittle and collapse amongst the bones of saints. The tree leaves blew just
The fireflies hovered in front of me, their green bodies emitting a radio buzz with their wings. Crickets hummed and perched themselves in trees
It’s late afternoon as we climb into my father’s gray Mercedes. As we stay stationary in the garage, I lean my fro against the pane and stare out of it and above into the cobwebs collecting in the far corner; a bee
“Good lord, girl. You swelling!” The girl looked down at her belly, then beyond it down to her shoes, at this she was secretly satisfied. She was not pregnant and in punishment for her tardiness, her body had begun to form pockets
When I arrive, the first part of the journey is to walk past the avid chain smoking of the other residents. Each person dealing with their own thing, each person somebody’s someone. My someone lives on the second floor. The first resident
Dear God, It’s your Ugandan daughter, with the 4C hair. As you know, I was born in Mengo Hospital between day and night. My mother grumbled often that I was a literal pain in her gut. I was yellow like custard as
Jocelyn found it hard to focus on the date, although it had been the only thing occupying her mind until she got the text from her daughter. And just like that, she was split in half. Part of her brain trying to
Sydnee glanced at her phone and saw a text from her mother, Marilyn. Sometimes she wished she had never taught her mother how to use her smartphone. She reluctantly unlocked her phone and read the disjointed message. Sydnee. Come get from church.
I typed the letter on a regular morning. But obviously, it was a courageous morning. I typed the letter in the dark because I had just woken up from a restless night. And restless nights have been typical for me. I live
“Again! And sit up straight! You’re slouching.” Naledi repositioned herself on the stool in front of the piano. Her legs, dangling, were starting to go numb. As best as she could, she straightened her back, placed her fingers in position on the
