B+

I sat and rhythmically squeezed a smiling, yellow rubber-ball and watched my blood, as dark as shiraz, inflate the flat canvas of a plastic bag.
I was at the Kilasch hospital in Godrej, India on a field trip to study sustainable practices in a small village. We were given a tour of the hospital which was designed with sustainability in mind. When we arrived at the lobotomy lab, our tour guide, Pranav, told us that the hospital was dangerously low on blood donations.

Where I’ve been on you.

Wiping away the tears on the eyelashes, on the lips, on the hands,  on the cheeks, I can see where I’ve been inside of you. I’ve been on your lips, I’ve parted them to sip the taste that’s tabled on your tongue. I’ve been inside your hands, You’ve held me as if you have latches etched onto your palms I’ve been on your cheek, I’ve been an enduring smile, after being a fleeting thought I’ve started to come out of hiding from inside now.  I am seeping from your pores. From the the question, “Should you love me now?” and the…

Opening Remarks at the Urban League Diversity Summit

Below you can find my opening remarks for the Urban League Diversity Summit.  I didn’t change much and I only had about 2 minutes.  I was addressing the question “How are traditional and charter schools creating models of excellence that achieves Dr. King’s dream of a quality education for our children?” I made a few last minute changes, but I lost the original copy that has the last minute scribblings that I used at the event.           Martin Luther King Jr. says education has a two-fold function in society.  Dr. King says education should equip us with the power…

Catharsis has no room here

I’ve been thinking about you. You’ve been here or there, in my unconscious. Unbeknownst to me, I’ve been writing about you. Mending pathos with pros. The alchemy is shameful. I am – I was – a good lover. But, I never embraced novelty too well. My banality feels out of place – on your ears – on your heart. Brooding in a room in which room to brew is scarce. This is why I am mute. This is why the gab is drowning in stale air. Catharsis has no room on your sheets. It’s smothered by your pillow; buried in…

Who has empathy for the victim?

“Should you go to school today?” Not too many 15 year olds are asked whether or not they should go to school at 6:00am on a Tuesday morning.  When my mother asked me that Tuesday, there was a level of uncertainty within the question that I never heard before.  But, with fire and smoke seeping from one of the world’s tallest buildings on CNN, going out in public, even to get an education, seemed like a risky affair.  However the choice was made, I found myself huddled with my peers during a school wide community meeting.  Administration confirmed what many…

Breasts and the Female Body: Form or Function?

Is there a specimen more probed, suckled, ogled, and scrutinized as much as the female body?  Just this morning I saw news clippings of what Barbie would look like if she had the body of the “average” woman.  The full-figured Barbie was plastically engineered to usurp the body image exemplified by the skinny Barbie. So, how does a woman choose which Barbie to idolize? With all the anatomical prototypes and societal suggestions, how is it possible for a woman to establish security in her own body image? What about the women whose figure is slightly heavier than the new Barbie…

A Kiss Here, A Kiss There

A Kiss here, A Kiss There. My lips are like that, you know. They can fall in love too easily, After the first peck, On the first cheek, This is why they’re guarded heavily. It’s what I’ve been hiding. It’s what I didn’t say. These pursed lips, clenched together, Were providing shelter from the fray. I have not spoken in kiss for some time, Which is why I have been mute. A kiss here, a kiss there is needed. If it wouldn’t be to embarrassing for you: I’d like to kiss your walk, your shower, When you put wine to…

What would the dead want from us?

What would the dead want from us? My dead friend would want me to push back against the sorrow.  My dead friend would want me to compete. Courtney Graham, one of the more athletic, faster, and cavalier friends of mine seemed to be attracted to the dangerous.  Throughout our friendship, the difference in our flight or fight response would provide many avenues for us to explore our more precarious sides.  This often lead to bouts of whimsical competition (more often than not, instigated by Courtney). Once, we asked my older sister to tie us to a neighbor’s tree just to…