Month: March 2018
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During my junior year of college, I joined a few Black/African organizations on campus; one of the orgs that I joined was the university’s chapter of the NAACP. At the conclusion of our first meeting, we practiced one of the club’s traditions: the students form a large circle, hold hands, and chant the following Assata…
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“Do not ever erase those identifiers that are held in you…it was given to you at birth and it is yours to own.” —Uzoamaka Aduba I have a European first name and a Nigerian middle and last name. For most of my adolescence I dreaded telling people my middle name It’s not even that my…
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I was walking out of Walmart after some grocery shopping. As I was putting groceries in the trunk, I saw a man walk up to the front of my car. He was a middle-aged Black man. He walked with a cane in one hand, and held a small towel in the other.
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[This story is adapted from an essay I wrote back in August 2016. It was written a month after the shootings of Alton Sterling, Philando Castile, and five police officers in Dallas. This narrative is about a real conversation with a friend. For discretionary purposes, I won’t use her real name.]
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So after long debates with myself, I’ve decided to start this blog. First things first: I love writing. Like other creative outlets I love, like video and music production, writing has allowed me to creatively express myself, vent my emotions, and translate my thoughts, oftentimes with more clarity than when I’m simply speaking aloud. Secondly,…
Black Spasmodic 