The mountains are special, people have learnt. So now people visit them accompanied with dynamite

Dust swirls into the air. The crowd gathers nearby—safely out of the way of stamping hooves . . .

I have a goal in life—to build the Black community here in America.

The children call it "Reverend Father" because the flock of white feathers at its neck seems like the collar on a priest's black cloak. 

It is our job to be allies and fight alongside Black Americans for equality. 

The scariest aspect of the Bay Area's disparity is just how little acknowledgement it receives. 

We often forget how Black communities and Asian communities have stood up for each other. 

I long for the day when lockdown ends and I can safely visit Evie again. 

"For many of us, this is not a new moment in time," says the young Māori activist. 

I knew Chinatown best on Saturdays, 

the November kind

Jeepney Smoke seeps through the iron rail

to keep him bloodshot. He burrows in the neck

As a Haenyeo, a Korean sea-woman, her day was just beginning, even before the sun rose in the bitter oceanic cold to ready herself to dive for her day's catch.

The embassy called and approved our request to leave the country. So we packed our clothes and a couple of other essentials, leaving the rest behind.

I wasn't alive in '93, when cryptosporidium poured

through the water like liquid lava

At first they stand, orphaned, like a line of birds, 

first on one foot, then the other, in unison.

My words can be a sense of comfort, a feeling of being understood, a thought, an awakening. 

My words can be a sense of comfort, a feeling of being understood, a thought, an awakening. 

Shirk your sense of responsibility. 

Leave your guilt at the door of progress. 

When I arrive home, there are men outside our cottage. But these are not my dada's friends. 

I believe in justice, 

in our voices, in theirs

Of all the swimmer summer and the dust, sun, rain, you are what sticks out. 

As we turn into ghost towns and ghost stories,

I memorize the steps, the corners, the edges.

you have learned there is both good and bad about where you live.

you have learned the stubbornest people on the planet are Southern. 

The night comes with a special kind of softness,

where the music swells. 

Thirty-two nights without seeing a start

Bright, shining, good luck, good luck for me.

These are the scents I will take with me when I leave this house.

My teacher, Ms. Waterson, wore glasses, and I kept an earnest gaze on them as I spoke . . .

the first missile tears through the skin;

skinning the embers of a quenched country

i have come back

to the village i swore i would never see again

When Uchechi’s voice crackles with laughter and her almond brown eyes crease . . .

There's a sort of spell that falls over the dinner table as we wait for the athan to sound.

“Black people don’t eat sushi.” He said it while I was in the middle of filling a bowl with grits . .

I believe in

People Places,

A Place for every Person to