Slide backgroundTo Write

is to realize!

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Revisit

again and again

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Reimagine...

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and Remember.

Journals

How many of us, throughout our lives, or on occasion have kept a personal diary, a journal, or a chronicle of sorts. Perhaps, our professional status necessitates a living record of what we think, say, do or did. Certainly historians can and will tell our tale, even if only anecdotally. Friends and family might do a better job. Surely, societal and private filters change perceptions. That said, biographical data does not replace a first-hand accounting.

Walk with us as we open our doors. Turn the keys. How did each of us come to be? Who are we and why?

  • Read our stories.
  • Share your own.
  • It is never too late to learn from our past, to better understand the present, and to build the finest of futures.
2016-11-29T17:39:12-05:00

The Soapbox: When Black Children Aren’t Welcome In White Spaces

Many a Black child has that moment when they learn that certain White spaces are off limits to them. That not only are such spaces unwelcoming, but they can possibly be dangerous. The Black teenagers who attempted to attend a pool party on the White side [...]

2016-11-29T17:39:13-05:00

I Will Not Be That Black Person You Need Me To Be

We are in the midst of another cycle of oppression boiling over into the streets. In Baltimore, protests have erupted over the death of Freddie Gray who died a week after being arrested by police and suffering a broken spine. Protesters took to the streets [...]

2016-11-29T17:39:13-05:00

When Talking About Race Upsets Your White Mother

My mom has the cheery demeanor, moral sensibilities and lingo of a Leave It To Beaver episode. “Don’t be such a sourpuss,” she scolds. “Have you ever smoked a doobie?” she inquires. “Oh, that is just terrific!” she exclaims. My mom is what I’d like [...]

2016-11-29T17:39:13-05:00

My Name is Carrie, and I Medicate My Son

My 10-year-old son has autism. And we give him anti-anxiety medicine every day. If someone had told me fifteen years ago — back when I was a smart, chic, kind of fit twenty-something newlywed — that my new husband Joe and I would one day give our child a [...]

2016-11-29T17:39:13-05:00

My Friend Died in a Police Van. That Could Have Been Me – if I were Black

My friend Hanuman was cremated two weeks ago, his ashes now sit in a wooden box on his parent’s alter. The cause of his death is still being investigated, but we know he died shackled to a bench in the back of a prison van. [...]