It’s a typical spring morning – a slight chill, cloud cover, and the threat of rain. I can hear through my open window the calm before the storm. The birds are quiet this morning. Drivers making their way…
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The Traveling Refugee. She watched her ancestors burn and hang. In the land of the free. In the land of the brave. They have known many graves. Unwilling to be 6 ft. under. She travels 6,000 miles abroad. I was…
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Let me start by giving my parents the grace they deserve. My mother was only sixteen when she had me, and the only thing I know about my parents’ relationship is that they loved each other, and I was wanted.…
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My grandma’s house was always full. The hinges on the front door were almost invisible. In the heart of Cleveland, Ohio, not a side town along the way,…
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The Traveling Refugee. She watched her ancestors burn and hang. In the land of the free. In the land of the brave. They have known many graves. Unwilling…
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“If y’all weren’t so difficult, maybe it’ll be easier to get a man.” “Y‘all? Difficult?” I repeat the triggering words as if they can…
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The day Chiamaka disappeared, her father left the house in precisely three pieces. The first piece left at sunset, when the world, consumed by…
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No roads led here, this place like a scar of an old wound. No signs marked its location, no post hung with its name.…
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SOUP: It is barely dawn, and the village of Layou is swallowed up in sleep and sea breeze. Tessa lays on her living room couch…
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Jesse arrives home an hour late. The humidity grips him as he climbs the four floors to his apartment. He remembers when he could take…
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A typical Sunday morning as a millennial five-year-old Black girl may have gone like this: She awakens. She needs to go to the bathroom, but…
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“It’s been too damn long,” Jericho said, gazing at me from across the table, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. His dark…
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The day Chiamaka disappeared, her father left the house in precisely three pieces. The first piece left at sunset, when the world, consumed by endless…
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My mother’s eyes are bulging, glassy and wild, almost spinning in their sockets with fear. Her cracked lips are pulled back from her teeth, which…
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As Bill Withers plays in the background about grandma’s hands, I look down at my own. I have my grandmother’s hands. They are small with…
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I am going to tell you the sad pathetic truth about me. I am a foster child and nobody loves me. I made up stories…
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