Tag Archives : blackness

why i wouldn’t be me without “mama’s gun.”


It’s difficult for me to admit this now, but I desperately wanted to be one of those shea butter queens I make fun of now. I imagined myself with a huge afro before I had even cut the perm out of my hair, was two years early on the coconut oil craze, and used to take scraps from my uncle’s…

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in our terribleness.


  I wrote a fifteen page poem as a final paper for class. Multiverse Musu wrote the same paper and is equally as proud of it, only it’s nestled between the thirty-seven other poems she wrote when she decided to give up on academic writing for good. Thoughts of the multiverse have been saving me lately.

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so we can wake up and rise.


Tonight, my mother pulled a bag full of overripe bananas out of the fridge, prepping to make akara for tomorrow’s dinner. My stepdad curls his lips and my mother simply responds “when you grow up without money, you learn to work with what you got.” Earlier in the grocery store, watching my mom navigate the crowded aisles and calmly place…

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A Note on Fear, An Admission on Compromise, and a Side Eye at the Obama Scale


On March 4th, 1933, Governor Franklin Delano Roosevelt was to officially be inaugurated as the 32nd President of the United States. For the most part, Presidential inaugurations fail to strike me as particularly remarkable (white guys giving speeches, it’s lit), but these were, without a shadow of a doubt, quite remarkable times. FDR was to give a speech to not…

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Grad School: A Manifesto


  A few days ago, my Intro to Graduate Studies professor asked us to write a manifesto, a degree of our intentions as readers and writers in graduate school. My manifesto was tame, lame, beautifully written but missing so many elements of what I truly wanted to get off my chest. This is a re-write of my manifesto, a piece…

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a summary.


this post was inspired by solange’s 30th birthday instagram post.  at two years old, i stopped breathing and was rushed to the er. at four, my lungs learned how to function. i stuck a lego piece in my ear and got sent back to the er. at five, i wore a poofy pink dress for my party and took one…

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For The Imperfect Black Girls.


Recently I’ve been on this kick. This downward spiral, self-loathing, pick myself up again with Maya Angelou quotes and basil on my windowsill kick. This lack of water, skin breakout, healing myself and killing my wallet with skincare products kick. This telling everyone I know “yo this has been the hardest year of my life” kick. This PTSD and depression…

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Ascend.


  A Very Brief Love Letter. Prince Rogers Nelson, As a child, I was supposed to hate you and everything you represented. The gender fluidity, the provoking sexuality, the antithesis of everything I was taught to be. My family clung to Michael and rejected you, so naturally, I was drawn. You had the glitter, the extravagance, everything I wanted to be…

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Love.


No one ever sat me down and told me what healthy, wholesome love looked like. My concept of love has always been based on knowing what it ain’t: my parents. Love isn’t disconnected cable and alarm clocks when you don’t get your way. Love isn’t sequestered dreams and revenge plots, pettiness and microaggressions. Love is not hurting me. When I…

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Confess.


I confess that I have a penchant for denial and a knack for self-sabotage. I blame my mother. Let me explain. My mother has always classified herself as paranoid, to which I have co-signed the title. Outside of any psychological diagnosis (because we’re Sierra Leonean and don’t do that shit, right?) I always could feel the tension my mother had…

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