Me, Too

It’s a Monday afternoon, in the exact middle of October, when the virtual world is suddenly filled with two words, as cold and searing as a Samurai blade– Me, too. Have always counted it among my greatest fortunes to have never been raped, taken aback, each time such thoughts enter me– by the idea that a woman should be thankful to have been spared having … Continue reading Me, Too

Our Truth

Don’t believe them, when they tell you that I saved your life the day we met in Montego Bay, and everything in the world turned upside down, and stayed that way– until we turned it right side up, having won that vicious battle to prove to one and all that we were meant to be a family. Don’t believe them, when they tell you that … Continue reading Our Truth

The Yearning of the Artist

They say real artists create because they must, because the act itself of creation is the very air we breathe. The artist cannot exist without something to create, they say. And it is true that most won’t deny the correlation between creation and contentment, between a finished work and peace of mind. But no number of written pages, or used up clay, or paint laden … Continue reading The Yearning of the Artist

Proper English

People always be telling me to speak proper English. Yo, yasss! That shit get me tight! I ain’t about to talk like some white boy– Good evening, sir. Pardon me. Bullshit. I ain’t gotta sound like that to be smart. I can talk any way I want. That’s right, son! Don’t let the white man tell you what to do. It’s interesting, I say, that … Continue reading Proper English