we were erased and still we loved we were shamed and still we loved we were expelled and still we loved we were laughed at and still we loved we were hunted and still we loved we were sacrificed and still we loved we were marketed and still we loved we were legislated and still we loved we were...

I'm on my way to a job where I am the only black person in my office. I work with people who either don’t know or don’t care about Alton Sterling or Philando Castile. They are going to ask me “How are you this morning?” and the simple truth is that I can’t be honest. I can’t say that...

Spirit of Life and Love, I come before you black and brown and red and yellow and alabaster, I come longing for the simpler days that truly never were our lot. And I am an American. Hear these voices, as in the complexity of our days, I am Humanist and Christian, Muslim and Jew, Pagan and Atheist...

Today, and forever, I grieve the loss of life. I grieve for the people who died in [name of most recent shooting]. I grieve for their families, friends, and co-workers. I grieve for those who were there and feel both lucky and guilty that they survived while others died. We have witnessed another...

I am sad. I am mad. I am afraid. These small words keep repeating in my head and heart. We give voice to our grief because of the lives stolen in Orlando: gay and lesbian and trans lives. Latino and Latina lives. Beloved, cherished lives. We give voice to our prayers for lasting comfort for their...

Sister Goose swam in the pond, happy as could be. Now and then, she ducked her head down to nibble a little bit here, and nibble a little bit there. She took no more than her fill of those succulent underwater plants, for she knew that the pond belonged to everyone....

Don’t speak to me of “healing” racism, or “wounded souls” or the “painful hurt” until you are willing to feel the scars on my great-great-grandmother Laury’s back. Don’t speak to me of “values” or “justice” or “righting wrongs” until you are able to feel the heartache...

You’ve seen it. Two black men pass each other on the street. They nod. Subtle, sometimes imperceptible, but there is acknowledgement. “Do you know him?” “No . . . (yes) . . . no.” I learned this from my father and my grandfather and my other grandfather and my uncles and my great uncle and...

I want to say to all those who would close the door, who would be guided by fear instead of hope, who would clutch in scarcity rather than live in generosity, who would say “No, you can’t come here”— I want to say: How dare you. For the Lord your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, . .

In eighth grade, we were assigned a project: to make a poster about some part of our ancestry. I made mine about the story of the 1930 migration, from Germany to the United States, of my great-grandmother, her husband, and their three children. My great-grandmother, Emma Johanna Jacoba Kranenburg...

We hear it said we are witnessing a “clash of civilizations.” We hear it from presidential candidates, from right-wing talk radio pundits, from white supremacist, nationalist and terrorist organizations. They say we live in the midst of a “clash of civilizations.” This is the first great lie...