10 Years After Joining Facebook: a Journey in Photo + Essay

Are you on Facebook (anymore?) I still am. I joined Facebook in late 2005. It has now been nearly 10 years exactly since I joined the social networking service. Wow. I don’t think when I joined FB that I anticipated being on it a decade later. I don’t think any of us foresaw this. I remember vividly when it expanded to yo mama and yo cousins, too, prompting us graduating college students to delete incriminating photos. Ah, how times have changed and stayed the same all at once.

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The 21 Best Hip-Hop Love Songs EVER

Last Friday I was picking Bean up from daycare and a song came on that made me sit in the driveway until it was over. That song was Common’s “Come Close” featuring Mary J. Blige. When I tell you this was one of my favorite music videos and hip-songs back in the day?! I bout Mary J. CRIED sanging in that car! How magnificent is it that hip-hop, an art form created within (some of) our lifetimes, has provided so many songs we fall in love to? It got me thinking…what are the best hip-hop love songs?

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Black Africa hand Blackness

Black Like Me…But Not Like Me: Fumbling Toward a Non-Americentric View of Blackness

In fumbling toward a non-Americentric view of Blackness, I have learned how very little I know about what it means to be Black in this world. That is a start. I call it fumbling because it’s halting and clumsy. I am not proud of it. My education about the Diaspora is tardy in a way other Black global citizens have never had the luxury of being. My ignorance is no excuse, but a point from which I hope to distance myself. The first cure to Americentrism is to step outside my yard, mute the loudness of America, and listen. To realize that being Black in Africa, or in Europe, or in the Caribbean, or in South America…is not the same as my Blackness.

And that it’s still just as valid.

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door to where you want to live

(#Tell Me Tuesdays) Check In: Where Do You Live, Where Would You Move?

Every year, some federal or industry agency finds it amusing to release statistics about the cost of living in various major US cities. The data largely stays the same: it’s expensive up Norf and it’s cheaper down Souf. Still, I read every single report. I do not know why. Well, I kinda do. I’m still shopping for a new city to live in. So a recent report about median housing prices and salaries in 25 cities caught my eye. When I look at cost of living data, it’s more than just to laugh at people paying $2,000/month rent to live in freezing temperatures.

I’m considering becoming one of those people. (shudder).

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messy laundry pile tired mother writer

Confessions of a Messy, Tired Writer and Mother

Proverb: Verily, I say unto you: It is far easier for a hand to scroll Twitter than it is to clean a messy house. Sometimes I feel as if the world I have created is closing in on me and I can no longer find my space in it. This is a different kind of claustrophobia than the one driving me to the precipice of my mattress. Motherhood’s slow erasure of boundaries makes me stare at socks as if solving for x. I was never good at equations. But I stare. Maybe the sock will pick itself and its compatriots up. Maybe there will not be laundry. Maybe the mountain of papers and books and mismatched hair barrettes on my dresser will crumble into tidiness before I hit the staircase.

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Celebrate the Diversity of Black Beauty on Social Media With #BlackOutDay

All over social media today, using the hashtag #BlackOutDay, Black folk are loving on each other with selfies, Black History memorabilia, family photos, cosplay pics, and just other shots of Blackness being beautiful as usual. The Internet can be such an unforgiving place. I kinda love it when we Kumbaya to exalt the best things about each other rather than our worst attributes. It is refreshingly all love.

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“Being White is Tough”: Why Poor White People Think Racism is Mythology

I am tired of having the “national conversation/debate about race.” As a student of African-American history and literature, it is readily apparent to me that Black people across the Diaspora have been talking about race for centuries. It’s not a conversation but a monologue at this point. I don’t need to say another single word about racism, really, when James Baldwin slayed so magnificently. Yet, here we are “conversating” on race again because White people have never stopped needing it.

Sigh.

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