In light of the horrific death of seven year old Jakelin Caal Maquin, I explore the humanity struggling to remain within the remembrance of her life reflecting on a family member with the same name, descending from similar circumstances.
Poem written over three days.
I did not vote in the 2016 election.
I am not a bad person.
I am voting in tomorrow’s election.
I am not a good person.
Continue reading “Vote and Shut Up”
There isn’t a moment now in my life where I am not reminded of the air, the December sun cutting the humidity in two as you walk through it. Or the rapid fire vernacular that bounces through your eardrum, creating compositions that correlate with the blaring salsa or trap music-a sign of the generational preferences. Young and old, female, male, gender-trancesending, flora and fauna-I see all of it in everything I do now. Continue reading “Puerto Rico Episode IV: A New Hope”
When I was five, I found out I was black.
When I was six, I found out that black sometimes takes a back seat to life.
When I was seven, I found out those roots run deep.
The summer of 1996 ended my grade jumping saga. I had also moved across town to Arlington to continue my 2nd grade at a new school with new people and new challenges. That will be addressed in the next blog. Continue reading “v: mixed/understood pt. 3: the summer with grandma”
When I was five years old, I discovered I was black. I also found out Santa Claus was, too.
When I was six years old, I found out that black sometimes takes a back seat to life.
Continue reading “iv. mixed/understood pt. 2: k to 3rd real quick”