I want to write about tierra, which means soil or earth to my people, maybe dirt, or land, which, in turn, means something very precise and precious. By writing, I tell the world I am a brown man. Where I am from. What I am. Not boxes to mark
Every year it was the same. The then Milwaukee Sentinel printed the pictures of all their summer interns who worked at the paper. The pictures were divided into two categories: Interns Minority Interns Each year, my picture, with the worst
Several years ago during my first semester in graduate school, some of my classmates and I went out to a local watering hole after a rather tedious writing workshop. Which, by the way, was nothing new. I found my graduate writing workshops
Disclaimer One: The intended audience for this talk is mainly white writers, so I use the dreaded royal ‘We’. I understand none of the We in this room are a monolith, but pronouns save time—and time is short. Disclaimer Two: While
There has never been a consensus or even a plurality agreement among writers who identify as Black about the aesthetics of our creative work. Or, whether there is such a thing as black writing. Or what makes the African American literary canon
Recent Posts
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Land: Tierra
August 31, 2016 - 5:50 pm
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The Burden of Diversity
August 17, 2016 - 6:42 pm
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Writing Woke
June 21, 2016 - 9:33 pm
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An Open Letter to White Allies in the Literary...
June 9, 2016 - 1:45 am
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Where Writers of African Ancestry in America Find...
May 25, 2016 - 9:28 pm
