That plant in a park in Rhode Island delivered the promise that there might be something familiar in this place where everything was new.
What is lost in a story that chooses to make Brandy a princess and Whitney Houston a fairy godmother despite their Blackness, not because of it?
Can Black writing be seen as more than a product of our death and pain?
Without anywhere to talk about sex or process it, ‘Twilight’ offered an alternative space to unravel my own private desire.
I’ve found an unavoidable kinship with the Ducks. It could be, at least in my estimation, a quintessentially black American story.
She is the page on which the story is written. Her body is a crime scene, and the victim of the crime, and the perpetrator of a crime, all at once.
Living with mental illness is a constant cycle of wellness and illness, and each recovery is impermanent.
I think now, what is life if not a rather ridiculous, fumbling, histrionic, financially ruinous, unwieldy thing?
The self-regard that came with watching Bergman films helped me feel rich in something, for the first time since arriving in America.
Underneath the shiny veneer of Bollywood, there’s something affirming about seeing people caught in the maelstrom of politics and war making choices—to flee or stay or fight.
Our fathers may never know us the way we wish they would. And if we learned that ignorance is bliss, it’s because we learned it from them.
When Americans consume media that privileges white survival, what does it mean for which disasters earn our attention, our money, our likes, our grief?
Wong Kar-wai’s films showed me how to navigate that liminal space between tenderness and loneliness, connection and alienation, East and West.
If we’re going to spend so much time with suicide in pop culture, I do believe we are owed an honest reckoning with what ideation is, as well as depictions that are truthful rather than dangerous.