Attempting to describe growing up in Detroit is [sometimes] a tricky thing. There is a pressure from growing outside interest in Detroit, to either delve into a poverty porn-esque description of how difficult it was to be a quirky [magical] black girl in Detroit; or to slide to the other extreme, and focus in on […]Continue Reading... 6 Comments.
Today, my adult-self is mourning the loss of a woman who made contributions to young black people in Detroit that cannot begin to be fully understood. But today, my little brown-girl self is also celebrating what she taught me about allowing your dreams to be as big as possible. I was so lucky to grow up with women like Mrs. Blackwell in my life. Women who taught me everything I needed to know about the pride that comes with being a black woman, and the adventures that were to be had as my life moved forward.Continue Reading... 2 Comments.
Last week I went home to Detroit to attend the funeral of a loved one. While it was tough to go back for the second home-going service of the summer, I was also grateful to have the opportunity to spend some time with my family. Whenever I’m in the city, my mom is always excited […]Continue Reading... 1 Comment.