She was an exquisite kind of fine. The kind of beautiful that makes you look and never break your stare. You wouldn’t care who was watching. But it wasn’t her features that grabbed my attention as I stared at her across the overfilled train. It was the small gold hamsa that hung daintily from her wrist. It initiated our conversation. And me asking...
I don’t know why I agreed to meet her in this place. The uneasy corner of Getting Over Her For Good and Trying To Make This Shit Work Again. She conned me into coming when she told me she needed to talk. Just as friends. She needed to vent. And I was the first person to come to her mind. Not her girlfriends....
I was not searching for you when I put on my black maxi, fitted around my waist, gold collar around the neckline. I simply adored how it glittered in the sunlight. I loved how the detailing glowed perfectly against my melanin kissed skin. I was not thinking about you when I put on my favorite diamond ear rings and pulled my hair into...
This post has been a long time coming. Not because I'm a romantic and I want to know why love in the Black community is sometimes scarce at best. But because it is ingrained in us that we shouldn't settle down, we should sow our wild oats as long as we can, don't let anyone "play you", and never let anyone see...
"We Black men have a hard enough time in our own struggle for justice, and already have enough enemies as it is, to make the drastic mistake of attacking each other and adding more weight to an already unbearable load." - Malcolm X "Blacks ought to help themselves more and stop crying about what they don't get. It's true they don't get much,...
Dear November. I can see you from where I am. Young. Eager. Ready to challenge a system designed to make you work your ass off for an unachievable dream. Like pedaling a bike as hard and as fast as you can and realizing that you’re turning the wheels that will make someone else move forward. But still work hard November. But there is...
Let’s take a trip down memory lane. Remember my tiny studio apartment? Cobalt blue walls with hand painted vines reaching toward the ceiling. You laid me flat out on the firmness of my cheaply made Walmart futon and covered my eyes with the Blackness of my silk scarf. Remember running ice over my bare skin? Then syrup? Then your warm pink tongue? How...
