As I rest on the curb on the shady side of a gas station, a young Black man in khaki shorts, a pink polo, and tortoise shell glasses approaches. His elbows are locked with his hands in pockets. “Hey there, sir. Where you coming from?” he asks. “Los Angeles,” I say. His face tells me that wasn’t the answer he was expecting. He careens to … Continue reading Countdown Story #7: Friendship, AR
Thoreau writes in his essay, Walking, “I wish to speak a moment a word for nature.” I too wish to speak a moment, but not for nature, even if my topic is often mistaken for something natural. I want to recognize that embarking on a 7-month, non-work-related journey is a full-on exploitation of my individual privilege. This understanding makes my innate desire for travel and … Continue reading My Privilege to Walk
We ended our day of inaugural protest back at Busboys and Poets, 5th and K, and braved the line winding around the block. Crowds came for the fantastic food, but also to hear poets Eve Ensler, Kimberle Crenshaw (and more) perform works of resistance. Their website called it a “pep rally” for the next day’s Women’s March. From outside we could see the corner stage … Continue reading What Matters
I don’t know where to start. I don’t know how to arrange what’s in my mind. On Thursday, September 2, 2016, the 20 year old Stanford student who raped a woman while she was passed-out drunk got out of prison after serving three months for his crime. Three months. During summer break, no less. This young man spent an insulting 90-days behind bars after brutally imposing … Continue reading Unpacking My Bags
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