United States
I had relatively high hopes at the start of this school year. My daughter's small private school, which we loved, had given us the option of going virtual in light of the pandemic while still offering face-to-face learning to those who needed it. That probably should have been my first clue.
I spent many hand-wringing hours trying to figure out how to tell my daughter that Chadwick Boseman, the actor who played our beloved superhero Black Panther in the Marvel movies, had recently passed away from cancer. We'd just gotten her off a Cameron Boyce bender (Cameron was a Disney Channel star who passed away from an epileptic seizure last year).
It felt like someone was standing over my shoulder. The presence was palpable, so much so that I physically kept turning around even though I knew I'd find no one standing there. When I turned back to my laptop to finish the personal essay I'd been working on for about two months, the sinking feeling that someone was watching and judging me returned.
"It's a girl!" In hindsight, the look on the ultrasound technician's face when her announcement was met with silence makes sense. I'm sure the contortions on mine were strange to see as I tried to find the proper emotion. "Um, are you all happy about that?" she asked.
When a white colleague reached out to Tiffany Younger, a Research Fellow at Cornell Medical College, asking what nowadays has become a common refrain from white folks who somehow find allyship confusing-"How can I support you during this time?"-Younger responded in a way I'm sure the colleague never expected.
The laughter that poured out of us that day was sudden and staccato, much like the torrential storm that threatened to pummel my plants if we didn't close the entry to the plastic greenhouse that already sat precariously in our small backyard. "Look at me, Mommy!"
"Thanks a lot for ruining my holiday," a woman's voice said. Her words were as overcast as the clouds I watched rush across the sky above me. That day in December 2014, I was one of 150 people splayed across the concrete in Philadelphia's City Hall courtyard.
Growing food and herbs for both nutrition and medicine will help serve our physical and mental health while possibly releasing us from a capitalist system. I screamed louder than I meant to but I couldn't contain my excitement. "There's an empty lot for sale in West Philly, Babe!"
When I walked into the room, undressed, and laid down on the table, I expected the session to go as usual. I'd chat with my acupuncturist about where I hurt-in my body and my mind-and she'd talk me through some of it while applying essential oils to particular points on my body.
They often leave their shifts to the sounds of applause. People line up in lobbies and on streets across the United States to cheer for them-to show gratitude for their service. At 7 p.m in Brooklyn, people across the borough open their windows and doors and clap for first responders.
On the first day of a new semester, I often have students introduce themselves via a simple icebreaker. I ask them to state their name, major, and an adjective that best describes their personality and begins with the first letter of their first name.
In an effort to help our family grieve the loss of our beloved Vickie Lee Jones, a preacher told us that it was God's will that a white man named Gregory Alan Bush shot her to death in the parking lot of a Kroger grocery store outside of Louisville, Ky.
I suppose I should have known it was coming. It took less than a day. My heart was already broken into a million little pieces after learning that my cousin, Vickie Lee Jones, had been murdered by Gregory Alan Bush in the parking lot of the Kroger store in my hometown of Louisville, KY.
I must admit that when I was introduced to Headspace's Pain Management meditation pack, I was beyond skeptical. Not because I'm unfamiliar with meditation; I consider myself well-versed in most of the tools available to make the practice more accessible.
"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 ...
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.
I grew up with African American literature. My parents hustled and jived to the poetry of Amiri Baraka and Nikki Giovanni, and my grandparents were captivated by the astuteness of James Baldwin, Zora Neale Hurston, Richard Wright and Langston Hughes. I absorbed all of it.