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A Black History Month Ode to The Chocolate Baby of My Dreams

In this piece, I think through the socialization of my favorite Black baby into her full Blackness. While the gifts I give her and the lessons I try to expose her to may result in a hyper-awareness of her racialization, I hope that it also comes with a confidence of steel so that she can walk in her glory despite whatever this society may throw at her.

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I don’t date black women

I drove to his house from the city. We planned to go to dinner… to ‘catch up,’ we said. Nothing too serious. Nothing formal. I entered his address into my GPS and set out on my two hour drive. I had been thinking about him since I met him. There

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Whose Black History Month is it anyway?

It’s Black History Month! And though I shouldn’t necessarily be thrilled by the fact that I’m «allowed» to celebrate my culture for about 28 days of the year, I can’t help but revel in it. I mean, I can unabashedly share information about how people who look like me have

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30-Minute Delay

It’s 3:34pm on Sunday, June 4, and I’m sitting at the train station directly under Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. I have 2 hours before my flight back to Madrid and I’m being detained by armed guards who aren’t letting anyone pass. How did I get here you ask?  

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