Anniversaries You Don’t Celebrate January 10, 2017
Quit staring at me, lady. These tears are for Bowie.
It’s January 10th. I woke up this morning much the way I did exactly a year ago, unaware of what the day holds. Only, this time round, I didn’t collapse in tears.
I couldn’t tell you what I did a week ago, or even two days ago. But I remember – painfully – exactly what happened a year ago, where I was, what I was wearing, where I was headed for the day, all of it. And much like one year ago, the eyes blur from salt water and my skin shrinks against me, as though my body is trying to hug itself out of mourning.
Today deserves no cake, no fanfare, no smile. Today is a day the music doesn’t die, but rises like a phoenix given life by all it’s followers.
Today we mourn the loss of David…
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Dual-Identity, Double Conscience
As an Afro-American man in this nation called the United States, it is a known fact that at the professional level one must possess a dual-identity. I don’t know too much about everyone else, but for me in these trying times maintaining such a thing is driving me to the brink of insanity. Professional black man by day, abolitionist writer/speaker by night, there is a severe conflict within myself. All of the micro-aggressions suffered at work. All of the near-blatant racist ideas uttered by my colleagues. How am I supposed to soak up, the notion for example, that a guy that I had Christmas dinner with would plow through a set of protesters with his 2010 Mustang?
This is how racism works: you can have friends, people who hold you dear even, have outright racist ideologies towards your skin tone. You can have girlfriends, boyfriends and…
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Academia, Love Me Back October 28, 2016
My name is Tiffany Martínez. As a McNair Fellow and student scholar, I’ve presented at national conferences in San Francisco, San Diego, and Miami. I have crafted a critical reflection piece that w…
Source: Academia, Love Me Back
Poetry 101 Rehab – Whisper August 24, 2016
The whisper glides along streets, Erodes long worn cobbles as it passes. Through spokes of a rusting wheel To the school and into classes. The whisper begs attention, A susurrous lingering in the a…
Source: Poetry 101 Rehab – Whisper
The Rangers lost to Minnesota last night, and I’m almost embarrassed to tell you I know that. I’m in my office, watching the game, and then all hell breaks loose in our city. It was another shooting in America. It was in our city this time and police officers were being killed, but it was a couple of blocks away and the Rangers were being shut out. This is what I have become. This is what too many of us have been for a long time now.
MERCurial Sleep on Twitter: “Want to go for a walk or a drive… but naw… it’s late and I might fit the description” July 7, 2016
Read the Full Transcript of Jesse Williams’ Powerful Speech on Race at the BET Awards | TIME July 2, 2016
‘Just because we’re magic doesn’t mean we’re not real’