“I love your hair. You did it yourself?” “Aww, thank you. I wish. I can’t…
Tamara turned her car into the horseshoe driveway in front of her younger sister Cameron’s…
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Virginia Woolf once said: Writing is like sex. First you do it for love, then…
Tisha Kroemer had never felt real fear until that moment. The moment she watched her…
At the produce markets that populated Church Avenue, if someone cut in line or pushed her while trying to squeeze past, my mother would hurl the harshest obscenity that came to mind,…
SHORT STORIES
“Do you know the story about what happened that day? The one that makes Momma cry every time Papa tells it?” I knew the story. It haunted my childhood. Papa only told…
She went to see if he was dead. But when she got down to Olive Branch and saw Beanie in his hospital bed, his breathing was calm. He groaned, moved his head…
I’ve been dreaming. In my dreams, my sisters sit in circle formation, our legs crossed after a long day of picking okra. We laugh and cry with one another. We share secrets…
“I’ll be damned if anybody beat me again, tellin me I’m ugly and worthless. What’s family? I don’t need you or your bullshit. That’s what I told them when I left. I…
The leaves on the two maple trees in the yard beamed a spectacular fiery red as the blue bottles that hung from them shimmered under the late afternoon sun. It was an…
The Solomon family car is small and green and was bought from a used lot seventeen years ago. It is not equipped for long drives. So the Solomons walked, or biked, or…
NARRATIVE ESSAYS
Every Friday night I come home from work, change my clothes and I flop down on the couch. In my head, I have other plans. Maybe clean the house. Maybe sit at…
The alarm pings and the piercing sound reverberates through the walls. My eyes blur to make out that it’s 6:00 am. I slam on the snooze button, praying for just five more…
My journey to motherhood has at once been a step forward into uncharted territory and a step back into an almost forgotten vulnerability. I am Black, Queer, Woman. My journey to the…
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 another just to the left of her…
They built a church on the land where my body was broken. Parishioners come every Sunday morning believing it to be holy ground. Yet I know this to be the ground where…
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 snap viciously. She is warning an invisible…
