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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Starting school & Starting over

Starting school & Starting over

Shortly before my marriage ended, Simi decided she would like to go to public school. She has only homeschooled, and although that hasn’t always been perfect, it is something that has worked well for us, and definitely suited her introverted and overly-independent personality. Today, I dropped her off at school for the first time. I am grateful that it was her decision to go to school because, of course, the divorce happened, meaning she was going to end up there whether…

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Writing: My Small Act

Writing: My Small Act

Dallas broke me. I wanted to write about it when it happened. I tried to write about it, but each time I sat at my keyboard, I froze. Dallas is the city where I was born, the city where I spent my weekends as a teenager, and the city I returned to a few years after my mom died because I felt confused and lost and needed to be somewhere that felt like home. I thought it would be easy…

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For Alton Sterling & Philando Castile

For Alton Sterling & Philando Castile

“And there seemed to be no way whatever to remove this cloud that stood between them and the sun, between them and love and life and power, between them and whatever it was they wanted.” -James Baldwin Today I woke up confused. In my foggy, sleepy state, I turned on NPR, as I do every morning, and I heard about cops killing a black man under (to put it mildly) questionable circumstances. But this was the same news I woke…

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Orlando

Orlando

I’m not intentionally staying silent, it’s just that I don’t have the words. I don’t have the words for the guilt I feel over allowing myself to become desensitized to this kind of news, and how when I first heard it was 20 people I thought, “My God, that’s terrible,” before going about my normal routine. I don’t have the words to express how foolish and embarrassed I feel that for some reason when the number became 49, that made me cry,…

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