Motherhood is not small work. It shapes the very fabric of our lives: homes, neighborhoods, memories, and sometimes entire generations are built from a mother’s presence, or marked by the absence of it. The first safe place anyone ever knew — or ever longed for. There is no small version of that kind of love. No ceiling, no end. No fault or grace. Thinking about mothers, grandmothers, and mother figures today, and all the ways they carry people through life in seen and unseen

The last three posts I've written have been about building something sustainable: → You Need a Board → Moving Papers → Clarity Requires Loss This week, I'm sharing a piece I wrote for The Penny Foundation about what it looks like to build infrastructure, not just for yourself, but for an entire community. My friend Trelani talks often about collective imagining. I've been thinking a lot about that lately, and about what becomes possible when communities—across every divide—be

"See yourself as high as you possibly can see yourself... Be delusional... Then you push past that even a little bit and define it, and then number two is like believe it." — J. Cole This guidance isn't new. Oprah says it. Kobe said it. The Bible, Buddha, and Lao Tzu, too. But dreaming can be a difficult task when life is moving at the speed of light. The moment you slow down, the voices flood in: the shouldas, couldas, wouldas. They drown you and make dreaming feel like a p

What Are You Actually Doing? Someone I know spent almost two years going to every event in town. They were well-liked. People recognized them. They had a broad network and could get a coffee or lunch meeting with almost anyone. By most visible measures, they were doing it right. Then they pulled back. They became more selective. They got specific about the kind of work they actually wanted, and they stopped going to rooms that had nothing to do with it. Within a year, thin

They say it takes a village to raise a child. But what does it take for one to prosper? To build a life that is abundant, purposeful, and true? My friend Carlos told me about a conversation he had with one of his mentors, an older woman from the Deep South with an accent to match. A firecracker who helped set him on his current path. She said: You need a board. He paused. What? A board. Blink. A Board of Directors. Like nonprofits and corporations. People who help navigate bi

Antwan Eady is a children's book author and a former Culturist Union visitor turned friend. His work reminds you what it feels like to be small and full of wonder 💫 A few years ago, he sent me a message: Read the poem "If" by Rudyard Kipling when you have a chance. I think it'll resonate with you. The screenshot I took of the poem popped up in my photo memories as I was drafting this week's post. I thought: maybe it'll resonate with you, too. The world can be a wild wild pl

I skipped last week. Sometimes the pause is part of the practice. Beautifully curated Eid gifts from Trelani <3 For the past month, I’ve been waking before dawn to the quiet of the house, before the day begins asking anything of me. I kiss my hands, coax myself out of bed, stretch a little—maybe yoga. I go downstairs and make breakfast. Then I set the table, light a candle, turn off the lights, and pray before I eat. When Trelani asked me to participate, we talked through ou

I coaxed myself awake with kisses to my arm this morning. The way you wake a child who has fallen asleep in the back seat of the car. Gently. As if someone were wrapped around me. Lips brushing my arm, making sure I know just how much I am wanted. Warm kisses on cool skin. Welcoming myself back into the world. Deliberately. Lips to the soft folds near my wrist. My palms. My fingers. Before the sun. After a season of quiet, I come back to myself. Lips first. Then words. And s

I have always loved dancing. Most often in the mirror. Watching myself. Imagining an audience. Adjusting to different beats. Exhilarated by freedom. Pregnant, I danced with Langston inside me. Hips wide. Arms cradling my belly. He and I, swaying low, full-figure eighths. Then he came. And I carried him. Too big for my arms, I brought him to my hip and kept dancing. Ever the adventurer, he squirmed for freedom. So I put him on top of my feet. Held his hands. It was easy at fir

(Slowly by Olivia Dean) The bus stop turned me around a few times, but we found the Rio Melcocho group: Drea, Juan David, their friend Andrea, a cluster of expats: Amber and her wife, Monique and her ten-year-old daughter, Mich'ellé, and Alex. Please don't be with us. Please don't be with us. God, please… "Hey! There you are," Drea says, hugging me, then Langston. I hug the ones I know and introduce Langston and myself to those I don't, leaving him last. I inhale. "Are you wi

This week has been a lot: house shopping, bees 🐝, fasting season, AG Gaston Conference, Langston's 16th birthday, and now he has the flu. I'll post tomorrow. Thanks for the extension. 🥂

P.S. Monday is my son's 16th birthday. This is an excerpt from my memoir of one routine night I remember most clearly. Happy birthday, Langston. Boog would unlace my boots before we got off work, and I'd slide my swollen feet into fuzzy pink slippers. The whole section, including the higher-ranked sergeants obligated to enforce the regulation, laughed at the spectacle. I could have found more appropriate shoes. One female sergeant whispered as much weeks earlier. But I could

I closed my coffee shop on February 16, 2023. It was my son's thirteenth birthday. Langston was transitioning from boyhood into manhood, and so was I. The day before we closed, a friend texted me. She had been helping me figure out what to say to the vendors I couldn't pay. She was one of those vendors. "It's concerning how when you have a need, that need will supersede all else. You do what you feel you have to do, moment by moment. We all do. But a lot of the decisions you

This is week five of me showing up here. Which feels both small and significant, given that the world is—once again—in unprecedented times. Though if I'm honest, I'm not sure when we haven't been. I grew up with dial-up internet and landlines. Watched it become high-speed and then obsolete. Got a cell phone in middle school. Became a cyborg by high school. I lived through 9/11. 2008. COVID. Racial reckoning. I watched Obama get elected. Then Trump. Entire industries collapsed

Thank God I'm wearing stockings. I haven't had a pedicure since I had both big toenails removed last June. Pedicures landed me in that predicament, and a touchy, half-grown bed keeps me from going back. But I'm liking what I see standing in front of the warehouse mirror at Unclaimed Baggage in Scottsboro, Alabama. The 6-inch, spiked, all-black, open-toed stiletto Louboutins give my body a real glow-up. The leather smells new, barely worn. My booty is sitting high, and my thig

Friday Night, 10 PM - The Couch Some friends are on the Daniel Fast. Some are doing Dry January. Others went vegan for the month. Me? I spent the first two weeks on an "eat what's already in your fridge" fast. This week, I'm modifying the Daniel Fast, hoping it'll help curb this sugar kick I've been on since Christmas. ...and as an elder millennial, I need as much fiber as possible. Start researching recipes on TikTok. Looking for three meals Langston and I will both eat. Chi

Here's a rough excerpt from the memoir I've been writing. It's my misogi project that inspired my first big-ass calendar habit of writing daily. Still working on it, but I wanted to share where I am in the process. The idea is to create a historical reference and guidepost for those who come along in my bloodline. When I ask my elders about this one or that, the oral history is gapped. Our family history—my great-grandmother in her 20s and 30s—is unknown. Beyond that, everyth

Happy New Year, my loves. "We all owe death a life." — Salman Rushdie, Midnight's Children My mama told me to slow down my whole life. Washing dishes too fast and missing a spot. Forgetting a homework assignment. Saying the first thing that came to mind. I thought it horrible advice! I needed to get to the grand destination quick, fast, and in a hurry, clutching a whispered fear that if I slowed down, I'd miss what life had to offer. I paid tuition for that lesson. While the