Mourning the loss of a country i didn’t know I loved

Mourning the loss of a country i didn’t know I loved

I have never considered myself very patriotic. There have been times when I have been profoundly moved by the privilege of being an American citizen, but more often than not, I have been unable to overlook our country’s propensity for violence and racism, systems that we have (so far) been unable to banish to history. Even so, I know being American makes me luckier than some; I am granted rights and privileges that people in many parts of the world…

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If you love me but voted for Trump here’s something you should know

If you love me but voted for Trump here’s something you should know

If you love me but voted for Trump, here’s something you should know: When I was a little girl, this is what I knew about myself: my brown skin was a life sentence; an inescapable confinement that guaranteed I would always be an outsider, inferior to the white people with whom I shared my world. My brown skin was shameful, something to be hidden. My parents’ union, I was told, was disgusting and ungodly, which meant I was that way,…

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She’s with her

She’s with her

My daughter loves Hillary Clinton. I would like to be able to profess the same, but I cannot. Without question, Clinton has my vote because I believe she is beyond qualified and capable, and frankly, envisioning her presidency does not fill me with the same sense of terror as envisioning a Trump presidency. Although I am not opposed to voting third party, I find the current round of third party candidates underwhelming, at best. That said, I do feel there…

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What Kind of Racist are You?

What Kind of Racist are You?

Last week it was Terence Crutcher and Keith Scott. I don’t have to tell you what because you already know. If you’re trying to keep track of the number of black individuals who have fallen victim to their skin color in recent years, that brings the total to…hmm…I’m pretty bad with numbers so let’s just say it’s around too fucking many. This time, the news left me feeling even more defeated and hopeless, and perhaps that’s what led me to…

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A Certain Kind of Guilt

A Certain Kind of Guilt

There is a certain kind of guilt I have. I’m not always aware it’s there, but I am reminded of it often. Too often. It surfaces when I am helping my daughter comb through her light brown curls, and in the background, I hear someone on the radio talking about a black child who was killed by police. The guilt comes on strong when I stare into my daughter’s grey-green eyes as I tuck her into bed, only to return…

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