#52essays: Another One Bites the Dust!

I’ve been around the block a few times in my 25 years of dating that I know to leave well enough alone based on a few quick evaluations. So remember the story the other day: the man who is making mad money, drives gas for a living, and has only read one book? Well, there…

#52 Essays: What Are The Odds?

To the other Black woman in the room with my diagnosis. To shedding the “strong Black woman” image for 20 minutes to be real with each other. To everyone in the daily fight to live or (if desired) die with dignity. To surviving. To dying. To us who walk that fine line everyday. To those who truly get it and support us. #mentalhealth #invisibledisabilities

The Impromptu/Accidental Essay

When someone dies a public death the interpretation is left to too many people. There is no control over what happens. Last night Ghana lost a very talented and very young (in age and career) artist to a car accident. I woke up to news of her death all over FB with people asking others…

#52essays: One’s Life Path

Why do I share this encounter? Because it made me sad. Sure education doesn’t help you climb out of poverty immediately, and looking at me, folks would say I am silly for getting all these degrees, but the critical writing and thinking skills can.

#52essays: 700,800 minutes

That was about 700,800 minutes ago. Rent is my favorite musical of all time and this particular song: “525600 minutes…how do you measure a year?” rings true for me tonight more than ever as I write my fourth essay of the year. I’ve written several variations of #4thessay but somehow this one feels right to outdoor.

How do I measure 700, 800 minutes?

#52essays: Pondering Singledom

What is it that makes people unable to or unwilling to part from a coupledom if only for one night? I think to myself this morning. Maybe that’s why I’m still single and for the most part I’m happiest living alone to come and go as I please without seeking another’s permission to spend a night with a bff or my sister.

#52essays: Where It’s At

When you are sitting in your car and contemplating whether you have the ovaries to show up at a Food Pantry, you know things are really bad. Why do I need ovaries, you ask? Because for some of us, pride stands in the way of hunger. And worse yet, I am a chef. I don’t…