My protest started by recoloring the Confederate flag black, red and green -- the colors of black nationalism. This was my way of arresting my own anxiety and fear of black erasure, both personal and collective.
Newsome's action was a reminder to abandon the comfort and relative safety of insipid discontent. If we want more, we have to demand more.
I just can't vibe with one aspect of my existence being uplifted while another piece is reminded of its inhumanity every single day. I can't focus on something like marriage, or living boldly and proudly, when I need to focus on keeping myself and those like me alive.
When you think of all the "black people who are so offended and just like to complain," picture my face. Picture the face of your black friends. Think of the hurt in my heart and the tears I cry when I feel like I can do everything right but still be seen as "inferior" because of my skin color.
So I pose this question: Why is a flag that represents the army that fought and lost (thankfully) to protect slavery flown and honored by state governments in America? There's no good reason. And that is why it's time to take down the flag.
In situations like these, it's always an individual act, somebody's loose screw, and never an examination of the institutions that created him and so many other racist policies and practices.
With millions witnessing an abundance of publicized killings of unarmed black men by police, along with several racially charged shootings claiming headlines across the country -- the national discourse around racism has expanded to incorporate the need for stronger gun control laws.
I don't know how it feels to be a person of color in America. I imagine, sometimes, it can be very difficult and very scary. I'd like to hear more about that.
In the aftermath of the racist murders of nine African Americans in a venerable church in Charleston, South Carolina, Americans are beginning to talk more openly about the issues of race and race relations in our nation. But a common denominator of much of this discussion is the absence of factual historical information about American slavery.
Both political parties seized the opportunity to talk about how the love and generosity of the American people will conquer hate and intolerance. But still, neither party is talking about race in any real way. For both parties, playing ostrich to race and guns has solved nothing.
This is an opportunity for fraternities to not only reclaim some past glory but also, and more importantly, a chance to reinvigorate its membership and play an impactful role in advancing African American civil rights.
Right now there is a young black leader in our neighborhood that embodies their spirit -- let's encourage that before it's too late.
No one is more vested in seeking justice than the courageous family members of those nine innocent victims who were slaughtered in a place that was their sanctuary. Anyone who thinks that forgiving Dylann Roof is an act of weakness has no clue what forgiveness is all about, nor what kind of inner strength it takes to do such a thing.
We can't change the past, but we can certainly change how we commemorate it and that will influence the future. For those reasons, I'd say that removing the Jefferson Davis statue from one of America's great public universities is something worth doing.
I've noticed on my social network feeds that many of my white sisters and brothers reply #AllLivesMatter. Yes, yes they do. But do my white sisters and brothers realize that in this very moment these microaggressions are like another death by a thousand Facebook posts?
Once black issues stop being black issues, once Latino issues stop being Latino issues -- when they're just issues -- that's we have something. I preach to everyone, go outside your demographic and join their struggle. Even if it's not at your front door. Show them you're there.
In April 2015, the New York Times wrote that there are 1.5 million men missing in the Black community because of mass incarceration. My father is one of them.
This most recent tragedy is not an isolated violation, but an exclamation mark in a long string of violations.
Black music is the core of American music and the foundation of all popular music. But does it get enough recognition or acknowledgement -- more than just a month of appreciation and reflection?