America is Lucky to Have Black People, Not the Other Way Around

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Amanda Gorman is the living aspiration and future manifestation of every Black girl who has ever dreamed, whether or not that dream is to be a poet.

I didn’t watch Amanda’s performance on inauguration day. I in fact did not watch any of the performances. Wednesday was filled with an overwhelming sense of finality…or maybe pause would be the more accurate word. I was amongst the many people who were happier about the end of Trump/Pence than the beginning of Bidden/Harris. An Instagram post floating around Wednesday read, “It’s OK if you’re feeling optimistic today. It’s also OK if you’re…


A persuasive letter to my Modern Literary Masterpieces professor on why I deserve an A, for everyone who endured this year

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When in the midst of sorrow

you can’t see up when looking down

A brighter day tomorrow will bring

You hear the voice of reason

telling you this cant never be done

No matter how hard reality seems

Just hold on to your dreams

(Sounds of Blackness, 1991)

Certain songs possess a sort of magic that allows them to say in a few minutes, what entire nations have been aching to hear vocalized so tenderly and perfectly, for moths, or years, or centuries. This song has that magic. If a gifted writer came into possession of every diary in the…


I want to cry, but I’m too angry

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Well, well, well, here we go again. Right were we found ourselves four years ago. In 2016 the country waited to discover what our collective fate would be. We waited, to find out something we already new, deep down in each of our hearts, but refused to admit to ourselves. Must of us, anyway. That teh United States of America is just as racist today as it was 10, 20, or even 30 years ago. That white fear will always outweigh Black lives, and that sensationalism, lights, cameras, and a show, appeal to a large segment of the American population…


Written after Joe Biden and Kamala Harris are announced president and vice president elect

Maybe it was all a dream, the before.
Half swollen, half realized, half remembered.
But I’m still shaking.

I...I still know the feeling.
And the proof of it is everywhere.


I haven’t been writing lately, and it’s fine

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Words are like water in a well, sometimes they run dry. That is what I tell myself when I fall into a writing slump. Or when I unconsciously avoid writing because there are so many other things to worry about, or becasue I’m afraid I forgot how to write a simile or realistic dialog. Writing is not easy for me, mostly because I am a perfectionist. Perfection drains the joy out of everything, it turns play into work, exploration into study, and passion into diligent, structured discipline. It’s not that those things are bad or anything, they are just as…


Exploring how the ways we deal with ugliness inside and out are one and the same.

Photo by Pierre Châtel-Innocenti on Unsplash

The ugliness which lives inside of people physically manifests itself. As sickness and pain and fatigue, yes, but also outside of the body. When I moved into an apartment after being homeless for half a year, just before the corona virus hit the United States, I quickly discovered that there was a bed bug problem. I would find tiny brownish red dots in my closet, on the floor, in my bed. Once, I woke up, the sun barely risen in the sky, and saw a small red bed bug resting on my pillow, inflamed with my blood. By this time…


It’s time for schools to start telling our kids the truth.

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The American education system lies to children. About the things this country has done and still does. The United States, and the West at large, has controlled the human story for hundreds of years. It’s not hard at all to shift the narrative when you’ve colonized well over half the world.

I’m concerned. Because I know what kids learn in school. I know what they dont learn. Especially in under-privileged schools and schools in very conservative States, that enjoy teaching a watered down and racist reinvention of actual history. They teach that Martin Luther King loved peace, and that apparently…


That are already crimes here, by the way.

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Before we are born,

mothers beg God, to let us

live past twenty five.


And how whiteness tries to destroy them.

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Speaking is a powerful, controversial activity, and words are controversial, powerful things. This can almost certainly be proven just by logging on to social media for more than five minutes, or turning on a news channel for more than five seconds. As the world evolves, the internet gets bigger, and political and social climates continue to change for better or worse; one thing remains the same. Human beings talk, about themselves. This is not a bad thing. Talking about personal things that control personal realities doesn’t make a person conceited or full of themselves. It is necessary. The problems arise…


How childhood traumatized my metaphorical ovaries

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My father had “Episodes.”

When I was a kid, he screamed at the top of his lungs for hours at a time. He’d usually start early in the morning, and sometimes wouldn’t stop until midnight or later. I started referring to these outbursts as “episodes” a few years ago. And they were quite frequent episodes. After a watching my father consistently, anyone can predict when they’ll come on.

My father has always been an angry man. A violently angry man, to those who know him the best. To everyone else he was perfectly kind, intelligent, respectable. He was never any of those things to…

Sunah Nash

Words are the most powerful things I have encountered. That is why I ‘m a writer. My name even means “the ‘right’ way.”

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