“my grand mother. willa mae wilson. conduit. conductor. leader of my underground railroad. under ground because black women of a certain era and age are presumed to not know thing, to know no things, to know nothing at all when in truth, they know the universe and the soul and the flesh and the heart and the mind better than any geographer. in fact. great geography is black geography and better geography is blaqueer geography and black mother geography is perhaps the most studied and exceptional and precise of them all, not because gender but because experience of reaching beyond self to pull out, push out, love out and foster life…is a journey not all can make, handle, desire, sustain, contain. she is not just a mother, but a grand mother, because after 6 births and several nieces and nephews and cousins raised, she reared and brother and sisters at times and always my cousins…because her grandeur was a gift she couldn’t help but give because black mother geographers know a little something about the great beyond, what lies there and what it takes to arrive at this place called wholeness, peace and…beyond survival…a thriving and a bliss and a space of contentment and reconstitution.”

Consent is much more complicated than any of us wish to acknowledge. It is often non-verbal, as is its revocation; despite our clamoring for affirmative consent or so-called enthusiastic consent.…

I am still waiting on my grandmama to come back to life For earth to spin and give breath For the ground to say it was wrong For things to…

With Valentine’s Day quickly approaching, I thought I would take a moment to share five quick notes on things you may encounter while in love, that ain’t got shit to…

PSA: somebody need to teach our African family “the nod.” On many occasions, while strolling through the streets of Kansas City, New York, Boston, Miami, Austin, DC and Oakland–to name…

Last month, a Black woman held my hand for 2 hours. I held hers back. Though our hands cramped and tingled, we didn’t let go. We adjusted when necessary, giving…

First, I want you to imagine the voice(s) that told you you were unworthy of love as a child. Remember how stick-slippery it felt, the drummed echo underneath this voice…

These are the times I remember: My ex telling me that the reason he cheated is because I was still like a dead fish during sex. He didn’t ask why…

Thinking about my mama and the ways that she has built her life for and around Black children. This is how she and my grandmother and so many of us…

Sometimes beasts enter into you all solemn, smelling like your mamas chicken. Sometimes they give you their names early and you mistake this willingness for nervous excitement instead of warning.…

Nana was one of my favorite storytellers. The one that stays with me most is her traveling the backroads of Greenwood, Louisiana, with siblings in tow. Before they could continue…

Earlier this summer I participated in the Queer Body Love Series, hosted, created and moderated by Elizabeth Cooper. This series featured myriad queer thinkers, organizers, creators and community leaders and…

How old were you the first time you were told that “fast” girls were always in men’s faces? I was four. Sitting in the backyard of the house I grew…

Pops called me last week and told me he got a job with the union. Said he hasn’t been able to get back to me because he’s been working late.…

Years ago, a girl from our block was kidnapped on her way home from a popular after school program. She was my cousin’s best friend. Had never been out past…