What did it mean for a black woman to be an artist in our grandmothers’ time? In our great-grandmothers’ day? It is a question with an answer cruel enough to
I took the longest strides of my life during my first winter in America. Race-walking in between classes as my
“They’re making fun of my Arabic,” whispers my cousin as he squeezes next to me. I roll my eyes, unwilling
My story will be faithful to reality, or at least to my personal recollection of
Once, a former co-worker of mine stopped me in the middle of working, calling my
“Every human being is intended to have a character of his own; to be what
My mother was born with one kidney when most of us are born with two.
Following closely behind church and Grandmama’s House, the third most important cultural center/gathering place in
The e-mail message was as jarring as the sound of an alarm clock on Saturday
Part I: Just For Me I look forward to the tri-annual ritual. My mother prepares
It is 2014. You are a Nigerian living in the United States. You are the
I. Places that I am terrified of returning to: Shitty $49-a-night motels with dingy sheets
At the produce markets that populated Church Avenue, if someone cut in line or pushed
“Then [Noah] sent out a raven, which kept going to and fro until the waters
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
“Good lord, girl. You swelling!” The girl looked down at her belly, then beyond it
