How to hold grief in a black body when that very black body is often what causes you grief (A VERY LONG ESSAY. I WROTE TODAY ABOUT LIVING IN A NEW AREA SORRY IN ADVANCE HAHA)
feel free to read or scroll on by- just wanted to put my thoughts into the world.
I moved into a new apartment community to start my 3rd year of dental school. It is pretty nice and stretches my budget thin. I am renting this nice studio under the Thomas M. …
Like many Christian orgasms, mine was hesitant and dredged in uncertainty.
Well, dredged wasn’t the best term for this. I didn’t batter up my shame and fry it piping hot. The air did feel heavy, though, as I stared at his clock and tried to count milliseconds.
How many times had ‘A’ came? I think we were both pretty into it, but it was honestly too dark and we were both too tipsy and god, nobody could have prepared me for just how much it would hurt. …
My parents are committed to the quest of perfection even though they probably don’t know it. They’d never say that they want their children to be perfect, even though they show us.
“We love you guys no matter what,” they’d told us growing up, with their thick accents punctuating the words “love” and “what.” “You guys make us proud,” they say now, not remembering the conditions for this pride that they had established since youth.
In 1995, they traded old-world traditions of Ghana for the shiny new fabric of America. They’d had three beautiful brown-skinned daughters, evenly spaced 2 years…
“‘A How-To Guide to Having Dark Skin and Trying (But Failing) to Love it’ is a research essay written for Dr. Henderson’s ‘Writing 1’ class in Fall of 2014.
This piece delves into the dichotomous sorts of identities that black women (both in America and abroad) are forced to reconcile as they begin to understand that this overwhelmingly white-commanded, overwhelmingly male-domineered world is not necessarily working in their favor.
This piece won Washington University’s 2014 Freshman Writing Prize and was originally published in Washington University in St. Louis’s Ampersand Journal in 2015.
— — — — — — — —…
In the digital, I am beautiful.
I am 500 right swipes in 18 days.
I am a question of “is this algorithm working right?” and “oh — it is working right?” and “oh.”
I am a question of, “how can I be swipable and approachable and 691-matches-in-7-months beautiful
when I am a statement of unapproachable and invisible
and radio-silence in real life?”
If you’re confused, I used to be, too. I write this knowing that many of us experience the disconnect between swipes and reality. …
I think about being attractive a lot.
I don’t do so because I am vain (although, don’t get it twisted — I am vain. By popular standards and the Christian Ethic I somewhat affirm, having 693 selfies stored in the ‘Favorites’ album of my iPhone is a little much).
I think I do it mostly because it is entirely too difficult to grasp the language for appearance, and aesthetic, for what it’s like to be the ugly sister, or the hot friend, or the “7-but-could-be-cuter-with-a-good-face-wash,” or all 3 standards at once, in different spaces, through different measures.
I think about…
I’m wary of saying words or doing “think piece” if I have nothing to add to the overall discourse but vainglorious intellectualisms. Though self-congratulatory I may be, looking smart and well-read for the internet is not why I’m here.
I want to explain myself. I’ve chosen to get political.
As a Ghanaian-American student attending a predominately white institution in St. …