You told me I was less than you. Enemy of the people. You robbed my sun, dimmed my stars, took away my moon. Left me adrift; I knew not how to sail to the future. You told me I was less than you. Brown skin shimmering in the light, dark eyes searching. I read a …
When is the last time I cried over the death of a public figure or a politician? I can’t remember, really. Perhaps it was when Indira Gandhi was assassinated. I was young then and mourned the woman I had idolized in childhood. Beyond politics, she served as a role model for Indian girls of my generation.
Last night, I cried when I heard the news that John Lewis had lost his battle with pancreatic cancer. I grieved the death of a tireless fighter for freedom and justice. Continue readingThe word ‘hero’ is overused but it’s truly fitting for John Lewis
In 2013, when I was a CNN Digital reporter, I spoke by phone with Suzan Harjo, a Cheyenne and Hodulgee Muscogee writer and activist whose lifelong mission has been to fight for Native American rights. Part of her work was to remove the use of native people as mascots for sporting teams. The Washington Redskins, she told me, was the worst offender of them all.
She couldn’t even bring herself to saying the name. The R-word, she said, was the same as the N-word.
Fans of the Washington football team have defended its name as an honorific; that somehow, the word, redskins, pays tribute to the native people of America. But the Native Americans I know say the term is offensive and the Merriam-Webster dictionary advises the word “should be avoided.” Harjo told me nothing could be more derogatory than the R word.
“The Washington team — it’s the king of the mountain,” she said. “When this one goes, others will.” Continue readingIt’s about time we retire the ‘R word’
My pandemic isolation began on March 12. At first, I welcomed the days spent alone at home. And though I felt stressed about having to suddenly pivot and shift my classes online, I relished not having to rush out of the house every morning. But as the days turned to weeks and then months, a strange sort of loneliness set in and I found it dangerously easy to slip into a morose mood.
Determined not to spiral downward, I began posting about the things that made me smile in this strange and trying time when the news seemed to get worse by the day. COVID-19 had killed more than 100,000 Americans. Millions were unemployed. Countless businesses shuttered, maybe forever. And then America exploded over police brutality against people of color. The Black Lives Matter movement that had been born years ago was again at the forefront of our collective consciousness. Continue readingThe stories I will live by
I did not cover the story in August when a black teenager was killed by a white officer in Ferguson, Missouri. Nor did I have any idea that I would be thick in the middle of things one day. But here I am, amid a deep freeze in Missouri, waiting with everyone else for a grand …
There it was, posted on a light pole outside my house — a flier that made my heart skip a few beats. “The KKK Wants you. The Loyal White Knights Neighborhood Watch.” I’ve seen several of these fliers around in Atlanta intown neighborhoods. Two others were posted in front of homes I know are owned …
I met Maya Angelou in 1983. I worked for the Center for Participant Education at Florida State University and we had invited Angelou to speak on campus. I went with my friend Graciela Cuervo to fetch her at the Tallahassee airport, shook her hand and said: “Maya, I am so happy to finally meet you.” She was …
Continue reading “'I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise, I rise, I rise'”
On the Fourth of July, I ask you: Should African-Americans celebrate this day? They were slaves when the Declaration of Independence was crafted. Should Native Americans celebrate this day? The white man obliterated them from their lands. Or perhaps the right question to ask is: How should people of color celebrate American independence? The answer …
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