I wanna be a book but I was born a person, so I'll settle for an internet poet instead.
There are so many important things here. I'm trying to breathe them all in at once, to be a little bit a part of everything, so I'm sorry if I'm not entirely anything. But I'm trying. I'm no trailblazer. But I hope one day, the time comes for me to fight for what I believe in, and I take it.
I tag my posts with as many trigger warnings as I know. I'm only human and I might miss a few, so if I do, please please please let me know and I'll make a mental note. Thank you.
"I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions."
- Augusten Burroughs
My writing is split into categories below. If you want to read them uncategorized, they're all available under the writing tag. Enjoy!
- Ferguson’s massive cover-up: How police departments are protecting Darren Wilson
- STL grand jury weighs charges in Ferguson shooting
- Some Ferguson protesters shift focus to city’s historic district
- 11 things you should know about the murder of Mike Brown
- 5000 show up to Ferguson job fair
- When all the angels are white.
- Can black children be “angels”? The history behind the NY Times insult to Mike Brown.
- Moving beyond anger in Ferguson: A health journalists perspective
- Michael Brown Sr. to Darren Wilson: “Turn yourself in right now”
- How companies are profiting from police crackdowns
- Letter from The Criminal Justice Graduate Student Association of Eastern Kentucky Universtiy
- Teaching #Ferguson resources
- ArchCity Defenders: Municipal Courts White Paper
mm. i’m not a very happy person as much as i am a very hopeful person. you gotta let yourself feel it all. the brief moments of happiness. the long blues. the white fuzz of uncertainty. experience all of it, but always with this final clear coat of hopefulness to soften every tiny and magnificent emotion.
seriously though, imagine if commercials for “men’s” razors staunchly, fearfully avoided ever showing a beard or stubble or any trace of facial hair whatsoever, as if made in a bizarre and inexplicable alternate universe in which the thing their product exists to groom doesn’t exist
just dudes grinnin’ coyly as they mime running razors over their baby-bottom smooth jawlines, eyes glazed over, not knowing what it is they do, or why, knowing merely that they must
Suddenly her mom’s silence matched Jackie’s own. “Oh, my God,” she murmured in disbelief. “Are you gay?”
"Yeah," Jackie forced herself to say.
After what felt like an eternity, her mom finally responded. “I don’t know what we could have done for God to have given us a fag as a child,” she said before hanging up.
She got a call from her older brother. “He said, ‘Mom and Dad don’t want to talk to you, but I’m supposed to tell you what’s going to happen,’” Jackie recalls. “And he’s like, ‘All your cards are going to be shut off, and Mom and Dad want you to take the car and drop it off at this specific location. Your phone’s going to last for this much longer. They don’t want you coming to the house, and you’re not to contact them. You’re not going to get any money from them. Nothing. And if you don’t return the car, they’re going to report it stolen.’ And I’m just bawling. I hung up on him because I couldn’t handle it.” Her brother was so firm, so matter-of-fact, it was as if they already weren’t family.