I’m curious about love. Like, how does it show up for the little brown girl from Kentucky who lives inside this worldly urban renaissance woman I liken myself to be nowadays? Is it just a mirage? A fictional oasis that I desire to drink from but doesn’t really exist on the plane in which I… Continue reading An Experimental Contemplation: God’s Black Love?
I wanted to judge her. I won’t lie about that. She spent 25K on a prom send-off. Who does that? The story is here but the abbreviated version is this: A mother in North Philadelphia went all out for her son’s prom send-off. She held what amounted to an elaborate, over the top, block party… Continue reading Of Camels and Judgment
A late night conversation about consent.
The NBA Finals are in full swing, and after the Golden State Warriors dominated the first two games of the series, many are wondering if the Cleveland Cavaliers can mount a comeback. Fans on both sides are taking shots at the other. Cavs diehards bemoan Steph Curry’s reliance on the three-point shot, while Warriors fanatics… Continue reading When Black Players Were Basketball Slaves: Has the NBA Really Changed?
“Prince was just too nasty for me. I grew up in the church,” she said. My first inclination was to defend the musical icon I loved so much. “Well, you know he wrote 1,000s of songs—over 40 albums, and only a relatively small portion of those could be considered ’nasty.’” “Well, all the ones I ever heard… Continue reading Beauty in the Contradictions: The Spiritual Evolution of Prince
Yep. That’s the truth. After a few days mulling it over, I’ve figured out that what I “get” the most from Beyonce’s latest offering, a visual album titled #Lemonade released on HBO/Tidal this past weekend, has absolutely nothing to do with the content of the work. Yes, I think it’s a brilliant, creative, and transparent… Continue reading What I Learned from #Lemonade – (Hint: It Ain’t Got Nothing to Do with Bey, Jay, or Becky with the good hair)
I can see them in my mind’s eye even now. White cotton and polyester dresses neatly pressed. Thick, white orthopedic nursing shoes. Pristine, white gloves and hats. They were the elders. The mothers of my very Black, very Southern, very Baptist church. When they spoke, you listened. Even if you were 14 and “smelling yourself”… Continue reading The Sons and Daughters of America: Why Trump Should Be No Surprise, But Neither Should Chicago