Roots & Hope
Soulful Reflections on Faith, Healing, and Young Adulting
Category: black
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Geography ain’t innocent. In the U.S. alone, white colonizers stole and spit on land, partly through mapping, naming, occupying, and defining borders with no regard for Indigenous communities. They committed genocide and displacement while also stealing my ancestors from Africa for centuries of bondage. Within the context of geography, I have long hoped to understand…
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To whom can the title, educator, call home? How is it defined and fully embodied? Questions like these underlie my life’s hope of honoring legacies and possibilities for Black, intergenerational wisdom and healing. In mid-October, a graduate school fellowship brought me back to New Orleans, Louisiana. My first time going was in July 2019. That…
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God, when I die, will I be able to fly above the clouds? Will I be able to time travel and see myself being born and celebrated? God, what was the top Hip Hop or R&B song on my true birth day? Can that be the soundtrack of my voyage? When I die, will I…
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1. You will learn that it is beautiful and okay to need support. If none of us ever supported each other, how would we survive? What gifts and stories would we rob people of showing? What aches and fears would we unnecessarily continue to suffer through? How fulfilling was it when you have offered time…
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I wish I learned how to swim I wish I learned how to dance I wish I learned that I could enjoy something without being good at it I wish I learned how to color outside of the lines I wish I learned how to fight I wish I learned that adults were still kids…
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Sometimes,love means stayingwhere you are rootedand learningto be unashamedof the soilinside your gardeneven thoughit is still litteredwith the historyof broken glassandbroken peoplebroken bywhite supremacy,so brokenthat thoughthey looked like you,they still triedto break your mirror,Black girl. You should havealwaysseen yourself asbeautiful.You should havealwaysbeen protected.You should haveneverhad to healbefore your time. But you, Philly sis,grewinto somethingfar morethan…
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I miss breathing inside Detroit coffee shops, warm and Black-owned, unworried ’bout cops being called on us, for our being is not a crime. * I miss Detroit Sip on McNichols: affirming words topping tables like cloth, beverages named after neighborhoods like sons and daughters. I miss sharing silence there, making pages and verses with…
