She may be the greatest athlete of all time (fight me), but Serena Williams recently admitted that despite daughter Alexis Olympia being the center of her universe, she’s not always confident that she’s the greatest mom.
It should be good news when you learn that the episode that brought you to the emergency room at Shadyside Hospital, which is where you drove the day after you felt like you were dying, was neither a heart attack nor a stroke. You’d suspected that what happened to you might have been one of those things, and the…
My son is only 2 years old—he’s loving and outgoing. He runs to strangers with open arms, saying “Hug” in his cute little voice. He laughs heartily and shares his toys regardless of the other child’s color. But most importantly, he’s free.
When I declared 2017 “the Year of the Glow Up,” I needed a win. 2016 was my first year without my mother, and it was painful, to say the least. In her death, my greatest fear had been realized, and adjusting to that “new normal” wasn’t easy. My mother was my center; I’d lost my center and was a complete mess.
I constantly wonder: what happens to a black girl who is too anxious to ever feel like magic? Can she still fly? Can she still be fly, with wings that tremble?
The new World Trade Center in all its grotesque, sanitized and bleached whiteness still makes me a bit sick. I remember the towers before the planes hit; I remember the smoke and grief that wafted into Brooklyn after they fell.
A few months ago, I reconnected with a dear friend whom I hadn’t seen in quite some time. We met up for brunch, laughed about prior fights, squashed beefs and updated each other on our personal lives in between bites of truffle fries. In between convos about the escapades that happened during our distance, I mentioned…
Editor’s Note: Trigger warning, this post talks about the subject of suicide, and was written before the death of Linkin Park’s Chester Bennington.
The last few weeks had been good; the fog that spent the last year following me had risen back into the clouds, and the unsteadiness of anxiety seemed less promise and more memory. I was lulled into a comfort. Good news had begun to flood my life, and instead of questioning my worthiness or turning the news upside…
Literally anything can give me anxiety, from a car that takes a second too long to turn over, the gym at its busiest hour, a doorbell ringing, the refrigerator light—anything. Today’s source of anxiety is a text message my friend and big brother, Roger, sent last night: