I was stuck. I couldn’t see beyond the gridlock, but since I had my three girls with me, I tried my best to remain cool. In tow: Skye, my 11-year-old, Sage, my 8-year-old, and Siena, my 1-year-old baby.
Other than Siena, who was knocked out from the lull of the drive, we were becoming impatient with the traffic and silently brewing. Then Sage asked the question she’s been probing me about for months – “Mom, what would happen if Donald Trump won?” Read more
I remember the first time we met three years ago. I trekked through the rain to the chic and cozy restaurant in Philly where we agreed to meet. At the time, we were both bringing awareness to the complicated issue of colorism—you with your book (1) Drop: Shifting the Lens on Race and me with my children’s book Same Difference.
It was inevitable that we discussed a collaboration, and I was excited about the possibility. As we sat across from each other, I realized that we represented opposite ends of the same spectrum. I’m what some call “high yellow” and you are dark brown. Read more
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But words will never hurt me.
Most of us remember that classic rhyme from childhood. Well, even as a kid, I knew that was some BS. We recited those lines so other people would think their words had no affect on us, but most of the time the opposite was true.
And it still is. Case in point—being a 39-year-old pregnant woman, otherwise known as #mycurrentsituation.
I’m expecting my third child in weeks, and this pregnancy has been different in many ways. Perhaps, what has made it most memorable though are other people’s comments.
I’m not going to lie. I’m happy most professional sports have ended — at least the ones my husband watches.
A few weeks ago, the NBA finals brought back a particularly bad memory that turned our entire household upside down. Let me take you back to the 2014 NBA championships.
Gerald was shouting at the TV as he had been every night since the playoffs began.
That night I was rushing out for a meeting with an artists’ group. “Bye, y’all!” I yelled, running out the front door. I knew the girls were in good hands because Dad Can Handle It!
I was back home by 8:30, the perfect time to give both of my girls kisses before bed. But as soon as I came in, I knew something was wrong.
Summer is finally here, which means more family time, hot days, and dips in the pool. Yesterday, as I went to grab my bathing suit to take a quick swim, I had a flashback from two years ago, recalling one of my most memorable summertime moments.