Dream Hampton:

Yesterday I got a call from my sister Cheeraz Gormon in St. Louis who was standing with poet Elizabeth Vega. They wanted me to know that a few women had created, on lawns, in the streets, healing stations, a place where the youth could come and scream and cry and be held and heard in love. Mighty work.

Happy birthday star…..you gave us something to sing about on the schoolyard, and stay giving us life as we laugh and learn, lead and follow.

Amaryllis for Brown Boi Project

Using the photos of smoke created by the devastating Israeli missile strikes, Palestinian artists Tawfik Gebreel, Bushra Shanan, and Belal Khaled, have sketched powerful images based on the silhouette of the smoke.

Diana Ross giving me life, 1975

Diana Ross giving me life, 1975

(via browngirlinorange)


Renisha McBride

Hopefully, you have been following the trial of Theodore Wafer, a Michigan man, who killed 19 year old Renisha McBride last fall when she came to his door in the early morning hours after a car accident begging for help. He shot and killed her through a locked door, because he claims he felt afraid. Local residents in Detroit, marched and rallied on Renisha’s behalf and ensured her killer was brought to trial. But there has been no national outrage of the sort we saw last year with Trayvon Martin and Jordan Davis. Wafer’s attorney has attempted to prove that Renisha was “up to no good,” citing alcohol and drug use.  It simply remains unclear to me how drinking, smoking, and then needing help, constitute a crime worthy of being shot in the head and left to die on a random man’s  porch. Renisha’s life meant something, and she deserved so much better than to be shot down on a cold Michigan morning, because she found herself in need of something we all will need eventually: help.

Between Gaza, Boko Haram, mass deportations, and the indiscriminate killing of Black folks by police, these are scary times in which we are living. We hope you are all taking care of yourselves, being gentle with yourselves and each other, seeking out and giving your energy to the things that matter.

In the immortal words of Tupac, Keep Ya Head Up.

Now, I want to share with you this poem, that I received after I did a recent appearance on HuffPost Live with Marc Lamont Hill to discuss Renisha’s trial.

Renisha McBride

by Sheree Renée Thomas 

“We don’t see black women as women, so they don’t get the traditional protections of femininity…”—Dr. Brittney Cooper, aka Professor Crunk

They say Medusa

was once so beautiful

a goddess envied her

drove her from

her sisters’ side

and stole her grace

Was it her dark skin, the color

of sun-ripened flesh?

Was it her locs

that writhed and swung free

with their own breath?

Banished from her throne

to lie beneath another’s heel

time ravaged her birthright

so that her very name

intoned fear

a fear that echoed

through the ages

Medusa, Renisha

What kind of fear

flings open

a closed, locked door

and blasts the head off

a lone black woman?

What kind of fear


in the witching hours

before dawn?

What kind of fear

pulls one from sleep

and blinds both eyes

to the humanity

that lives within

all skin?

What kind of fear

finds it reasonable

and honest to leap

from lending a hand

to triggering the finger

that kills?

and still

Medusa belongs nowhere

Is there a space where she belongs?

Is there a corner of a dark cave

she is free to cling to?

Where may she find

empathy, peace?


one of triple moons

the goddess of renewal

and strength

She is bereft of her sisters

and we her sisters

mourn her loss


Community Art Garden in the Lower East Side of New York called Le Petit Versailles

“There is, for me, no difference between writing a good poem and moving into sunlight against the body of a woman I love.”
— Audre Lorde   (via magnoliasroom)

(via daughterofzami)