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To crack the shell, I did what I always do — held one egg steady in my left hand and struck it with the second egg in my right. But the one that cracked wasn’t always the one doing the striking. Sometimes the egg I held still was the one that gave way. Other times, the one swinging in was the one that split. And I stood at my counter in the quiet of the morning, staring at the un-cracked egg in my palm, thinking: which one was supposed to break?

I was born in 1967 in Aurora, Illinois — the daughter of two Black parents who had migrated north during the Civil Righ...

I was very good at being good. Good daughter. Good wife. Good sister. Good mother. Good leader. Good meant calm under pressur...

I grew up in a house that cracked but never collapsed — an alcoholic veteran father, a fiery nurse mother, arguments that shook the walls, and laughter that stitched us back together. I learned early how to read moods. How to anticipate tension. How to stabilize instability. I became the emotional engineer of whatever room I walked into.

There is a generation of women walking around with controlled hypertension and uncontrolled resentment. We laugh about it. We norma...

Love does not end when the body does. It changes ecosystems. It becomes climate. It becomes memory. It becomes breath in the places...

There are moments in life when no explanation will satisfy the ache in your chest. When the questions keep circling, but the answers ne...

There is a place beneath the surface of every garden where decay becomes nourishment. Where what once lived returns to the earth and qu...

There is a particular kind of grief that comes not only from losing someone, but from losing the future you imagined with them. It is t...

They say her heart gave out. I say it gave in. Those two phrases carry different universes inside them. Giving out implies collapse...