Back in 2012, I wrote a Dear John letter to the brothers. My relationships with the Johns in my life were (and will always be I suppose) evolving, transitioning, ending. I'm a stubborn one, but my ideas and opinions evolve, transition, end too. So it is with the Dear John letter. I realized the change [...]
"A good girl: bright, perhaps a bit of an introvert, perhaps not romantically pursued or interested in the pursuit for these reasons. Of course, these traits are likely not all she is, but when she is told that her brownness negates her goodness, she must determine how to be herself—all of herself—anyway. Tropism is the biological phenomenon that describes how she does it. In tropism, external agents determine the direction of an organism’s growth. For better or worse, it is often external agents that show a good girl of color how to grow into herself; they determine what she will look like and how she will act."
2017 has been life affirming. I haven't taken y'all on the cardiomyopathy carousel much this year because technically it's all rather new; a little up and down like the carousel horsies; a little boring as incremental change can be; and more than anything for all my say-it-anyway-you-can banner waving, ummm, I'd rather not. Besides, I am so, so Here. And other people that were in my brand of canoe don't always get to say that. So, about being Here. That good girl project has been doing big things this year!
What is white space that is not a canvas; offering agency and every possibility to whomever confronts it? It’s quiet and patient; generous; never pompous and clearly not greedy. It lets you shine against it.
The aim of this lit magazine is to empower women, but it also aims to be completely inclusive in regards to applicants/contributors. We love you. We’re not here to tell you to stay strong, because you’re already doing exactly that.
I see y'all whose do list is longer than your don'ts maybe feeling guilty; maybe feeling sentimental amnesia. I see you all. And every time I look in a mirror I see my mama whether I like it or not. (I do for the record--cheeks, doe eyes, and all).
Talking to myself--especially when it becomes a lot of talk all of a sudden, always tells me there is something I'm trying to work out of my brain and especially out of my body. It's interesting that I haven't been able to run lately, one of my choice ways of working stuff out of my mind and body.
Women I know wear Special so heavy their backs break under it; discard it in you and there you are feeling like you’re some kind of Robinhood to the rescue knowing full well you are water seeking its own level.
Remember those posts: I am a miracle (that's my story and I'm sticking to it). and Didn't Yesterday say you couldn't yet you did? Mrs. Burke read them and thought they were worth sharing. So I'll be sharing them. On November 16th at 6 on the radio (in my Donna Summer voice). Tune in!
...common roles illustrate how Black women, and their sexuality, have often been synonymous with deviance. And reclaiming, repackaging, and/or discarding the roles has given women agency; a control denied the Good Girl who is essentially invisible. She needs that.