On Art

As much as I love words and communicating, I have to admit, there’s more to life. Why can’t things just be? Why can’t you just do something because it’s fun or it just feels good? You don’t have to explain anything to anyone if it doesn’t concern them. In the popular wisdom of the day:…Read more On Art

Decent People to the End

Despite how problematic this story can be in our fraught media landscape seething with outrage and boiling with identity politics, it is the most urgent story. I am compelled repeatedly tell it—fresher, bolder, louder, its scope ambitiously greater than my tiny individual life.

Decent People

Despite how problematic this story can be in our fraught media landscape seething with outrage and boiling with identity politics, it is the most urgent story. I am compelled repeatedly tell it—fresher, bolder, louder, its scope ambitiously greater than my tiny individual life.

Origins

I recognized the shape of the island immediately, a rugged, horn-like protrusion emerging from sea. Lush vegetation nourished by rich volcanic soil made it a green brighter than the turquoise shallows caressing its beaches. The sky, the soothing pale blue of daylight, was clear enough to see broad plateaus and dark canyons beneath the shifting…Read more Origins

The Face of the Future

“You are the face of the future.” An acquaintance once said this to me when we first met. He uttered it emphatically, as if it was a wondrous revelation. It felt like an enormous compliment. “Thank you, so are you!” I replied. Of all the statements about my multiracial “mixed” features, indeed of all the…Read more The Face of the Future

Being Myself

Doubt is part of every word I say. Before the glances congeal into a gaze, I am already formed. A partial. A remnant. Existing to be discarded. How many estimates Must I encounter To meet the one I cannot fall short of?   I fail, I fail, I will fail you Always In your judgement…Read more Being Myself

An Unburdened Childhood

We stepped inside the public bus and hurriedly inserted our reduced-fare youth tickets into the clunky scanner beside the sullen driver. As the vehicle began to pick up speed, we ambled down the rows searching for vacant seats, they were usually in the back. The bus was full of tired commuters heading to work that…Read more An Unburdened Childhood