One of the biggest problems that Black Latinos encounter is addressing racism. Here in Colombia, this denial allows racism to happen publicly and on social media more often without much response.
Read Moreif anyone asks,
yes. i’m plenty tired and mostly defeated.
carrying on feels difficult.
i am inside the body of a burned out Black woman
who no longer wishes to love.
Read MoreI recently heard Black men were planning to boycott Black Panther 2 if Shuri dons the Black Panther mantle. They even started a hashtag movement, #RecastTChalla, and a petition.
I wish I were surprised or disappointed, but I’m not.
Read MoreI am a bald, heavyset Black woman in a world where none of those attributes are valued. I've dealt with alopecia for several years, primarily by hiding it. Today, I feel liberated from the shame of baldness. But, like many bald and Black marginalized genders, I experience challenges to my self-image, beauty, and overall sense of self. It has everything to do with society.
Read MoreEveryday,
it seems to be a vicious cycle of
Acculturation classrooms,
Assimilation lessons,
And conformity schoolwork.
We don't dare walk around your building In our cultural clothings or
Bother with home cooked lunches to avoid Your sensitive noses.
Read More27 de junio de 1970, San Francisco, California, 30 personas.
30 de junio de 1979, Berlín, Alemania, 450 personas.
28 de junio de 1982 Bogotá, Colombia, 32 personas.
“¡Salgamos!”: Salgamos a las calles, salgamos del armario, salgamos a abogar por nuestros derechos y salgamos a recordar las demasiadas víctimas que ha dejado la homofobia.
Read MoreJune 27, 1970, San Francisco, California, 30 persons.
June 30, 1979, Berlin, Germany, 450 persons.
June 28, 1982, Bogotá, Colombia, 32 persons.
"Come out! Come out to the streets, come out of the closet, come out to advocate for our rights, and to commemorate the victims of homophobia."
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The band instructor displayed instruments that were placed on tables in each corner of the room.
I knew I was destined to play the drums before I walked into class. Apparently, so did every other black kid, and it wasn’t a coincidence. Two influences had recently occurred. The first was the release of Drumline, and the second was a catchy Neptunes-produced song called “Grindin.” Students repurposed desktops and lunch tables, using them as drums to recreate the beat. That afternoon after tryouts, I showed my mother the cost sheet. Her eyebrows cascaded over her eyelids as she traced the total with her finger. “Sorry, T. What about the choir?” she bargained.
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