Two years. It’s been two years since I have felt the freedom to create in my own name. Don’t get me wrong: I have written. My words adorn the pages of other people’s Big Houses. My own words, though, have been curled up in trauma and silence.
Read MoreSince 1619, in America, the "wrong" place always has been ANYwhere--a college tour or a Starbucks or a Waffle House--with people who feel more entitled to exist in and profit from a certain space.
Even at a Waffle House or University of Colorado, aware of the hashtags, deaths, and the fear, some people (oh, white women, I am warily, wearily looking at you) really just don't give a damn. They feel entitled enough to call the police rather than have a face-to-face conversation.
This ain't living. This is America.
Read MoreCampbell Robertson observes a Black Exodus in his New York Times piece: there are black protestants in predominantly white congregations who can no longer abide with congregants who are deaf to our unrelenting grief and trauma, deaf to this country's foundation of systemic oppression and racism, and deaf to our warnings that they are aligning themselves with these systems rather than with God.
We're leaving.
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