It's like fighting every day to find a part of yourself without losing the parts you barely have
What It’s Like Being an African Girl (Living in America)
Sloan(e)
I was distracted in daydreams about being named Sloan(e) and if I were, would I spell it Sloan or Sloane?
A Wetback Job
At Le Petit Café on Court Street, I sat across from Nina with a smile on my face and a clenched stomach. We chatted over lattes about the boys and the holidays, just as we always had. What I had to say to her shouldn’t have been explosive, but it was. In spite of the... Continue Reading →
The Reluctant Return to College
I assisted with kids in Special Education, or what we called 12-to-1 classes, after the required ratio of students to teachers. The kids were a motley crew of dysfunction. They were middle-school-aged juvenile delinquents, learning disabled, violent, from foster homes, and no one seemed to give a damn whether they succeeded or failed.
There Is a Loud Silence in New York Today: A Monologue
I am in awe he won the damn election.
This, Too, Is New York: Letter from the Founder
The writers we will be publishing in The Grate have fought to tell their stories. They have done it because they know, as all writers before them have known, that stories have power.