I have come to believe over and over again that what is most important to me must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of having it bruised or misunderstood – Audre Lorde
When I left home on August 21, 2019 to pursue my MFA at Chapman University, I had no idea what I was stepping into. I was sad walking away from my family at the airport, hearing my mother cry as I tugged on my suitcases and turned my back from the life I’ve known andContinue reading “So Long, Chapman”
In Bhanu Kapil’s book, The Vertical Interrogation of Strangers, there’s a Twelve Questions poem that I knew I wanted to find answers to the moment I read it. I love a great exercise of interrogation and of course, the hope that in some small ways, I discover some truth, come across a changed thought or simply better understandContinue reading “12 Questions Series: Where did you come from”
In Bhanu Kapil’s book, The Vertical Interrogation of Strangers, there’s a Twelve Questions poem that I knew I wanted to find answers to the moment I read it. I love a great exercise of interrogation and of course, the hope that in some small ways, I discover some truth, come across a changed thought orContinue reading “12 Questions Series: Who are you and whom do you love?”
The memoir begins with a curiosity and attentiveness of seven-year-old Nadia that isn’t startling, isn’t unexpected of a child but is indeed, a meaningful (albeit costly) tool that proves effective as the writer navigates a life marked by changes, motion, violence and a kind of absence that drags its weight through the years – steadyContinue reading “Book Review: The Heavy Work of Reckoning in Nadia Owusu’s ‘Aftershocks’”
Baby girl, Look at you at twenty-five: thankful, loved, working, resting, eating cake and also tired all the time, with little money, crying a lot for no reason, easily overwhelmed, drained by small talks and losing your breath after a 7-minute home workout. How unstable your life and the desires of your heart, and yet,Continue reading “Twenty-five”
I’m sitting here in a poorly lit, empty kitchen and have no idea what it is I want to write. I just know something’s got to come free, come a little loose and it may make it easier to breathe or not at all, and it may make it easier to look forward to theContinue reading “November”
Tryphena Yeboah