23 and me  Here’s an idea: a little bit of my spit will determine what language I could be speaking, what food I should be eating, what box I will be ticking. I have:Borders pre-coded into my skin, I have passportstattooed into the marrow of my bones, I have ancestral whispers twisted into the drumbeat of my heart, stories and smells and soundspassed down in skin cells, from warriorswhose bodie...

In my world, bodies are falling to the ground every day.  Whether they be the ravaged remains left by the virus or the silenced victims of police brutality. And here I stand. A seventeen year old girl feeling so utterly small as her world burns and quivers, coughs and shakes around her.  You see, when the coronavirus circulated the planet and infected our bodies and our lifestyles, we were terr...

A Vigil.To my people. My family.  On the streets, lies another black man. Murdered out of hate. On the streets, lies another black man. Murdered out of fear. On the streets, lies another black man.  Murdered out of anger.  We remember every single life: every black man, every black woman, every black child, who were murdered at the hands of the police.  We remember every single life: every blac...