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Broken

Though it took me a while to catch onto the pattern, in the few days running up to the election many things in my life began to go out, break, fall apart. My back, for starters, after a few days of hauling boxes. My phone, which turned off mid-email and refused to come back on. The doorknob to our porch read more >>

Black in Minneapolis

1) We followed the young hostess through the mostly empty restaurant to the back table—furthest from the door, only a few feet from the waiter station—and stalled there. Shame plastered all over her face as she set down the menus. Was she seating us there because of our skin color? Was she told to do this by her manager? We read more >>

Selma

I was at Selma with a friend, only a few minutes in; we’d just watched King accept the Nobel Peace Prize, and now four school girls were walking down the steps of a church, deep inside their lives, cradled inside the building, walking and talking and laughing, and my friend leaned over and whispered, “You know what’s going to happen, read more >>

Stalking

Stalking

Avery comes home from school with the assignment to read a chapter out of Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. It’s his eighth grade English teacher’s favorite book. I have a copy on my shelf, so Avery and I sit down in our screened in porch and begin reading the chapter back and forth. Avery swings in the hammock chair. read more >>

What Happens When?

What Happens When?

    This, my white friends, is privilege. Even in our most activist moments, we don a cause like a fashionable hat, briefly, until we exhaust our emotional reserves; then, when it suits us, we retreat to the comfort of our white, cushy cloud of isolation, so to recover from our (ahem) heartache. But the real victims never have such read more >>