“My name is Tavonne Carson. I’m six years old.” If she hadn’t said my name,
The girl you ask to dinner will never show you her true face. Her deep,
I guess I’ve been an art historian, informally I’d say I’ve always “geeked out over
I hear my student say that word and I’m not surprised. I knew this student
It’s late afternoon as we climb into my father’s gray Mercedes. As we stay stationary
Dear God, It’s your Ugandan daughter, with the 4C hair. As you know, I was
As Bill Withers plays in the background about grandma’s hands, I look down at my
Trina, I need you to stay inside for recess today. You are a little Black
It’s a typical spring morning – a slight chill, cloud cover, and the threat of
As a kid, I remember the subject of race coming up twice in our family.
I need to remind myself that Mama is human, that she is not endless love,
I was ten years old when I first witnessed domestic violence. It was a hot
“If I didn’t define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people’s fantasies
“Have you considered writing a book about your life?” It is likely someone has asked
“African-American girls always score higher than their white peers when it comes to self-esteem,” one
