I moved to Brooklyn Heights when I was 17. I was enrolled for the summer introduction course for the New York Conservatory for the Dramatic Arts until I started classes in the fall. This was the plan since I was ten years old. Showing up, suitcase in hand and a dream in my heart. The… Continue reading Anomaly
Recently a local theater whitewashed the role of a black slave in Arthur Miller's, "The Crucible." There was protest from myself and other members in the community. The local newspaper thought it was an important discussion to begin and asked for interviews, and wrote up an article. On the online article there is a comment… Continue reading Skin. Part 3
A little background. A local community theater group, (Olean Theatre Workshop), recently did an almost all female production of Arthur Miller's, The Crucible. In The Crucible, for those who may not be familiar, is a character named Tituba who is a black slave and calls for black actress to play the role. Olean Theatre Workshop casted… Continue reading Whitesplained
"You're not even that dark. Look at this." he demonstrated by pulling my sleeve off to expose my shoulder. "This - this is practically white." A few things came to my mind in this moment. First of all - how fucked up this was. I understood he was trying to flirt, and this was what… Continue reading Skin. A Sequel.
I understand that I now have the reputation of being a bitter, angry person who just writes about people she doesn't like. I'm old enough to know that what others think shouldn't bother me. But I'm still human. Like I wrote when I began this journey - this is my story, within my limited perspective.… Continue reading Letter From an Angry Black Woman.
I really don't like Dunkin Doughnuts. I remember thinking just that when he walked through the door late. He picked the location. I don't like businesses that have cutesy names, particularly with alliteration. For me there was little difference between Dunkin Doughnuts and Chuck E. Cheese. We had been seeing each other for a solid… Continue reading Coffee – Hold the Cream.
The color of my skin never before occurred to me until I wanted to be the pink Power Ranger at recess and was told I had to be the yellow ranger because the pink ranger was white. This confused me because although my ethnicity has always been somewhat ambiguous , I did not have the… Continue reading Discolored Recollections