You can’t place my face, can you? I mean, the skin tone kind of provides some insight, but my place of origin? A muddy lake of confusion and diasporic mystery. My junior year of high school, someone remarked that I had “Cherokee” eyes (wtf). When I was fourteen, someone complained that “Black people are so…
Dear Aubrey, May I call you Aubrey? In the “Child’s Play” music video, Tyra Banks notes how the girl you’re allegedly cheating with calls you Aubrey, and nobody else but Tyra and your own momma call you that. Curious. But I understand you, maybe, in ways that Tyra or your side chick do, so I…
by Carlin L. Zia The clay behind the potting shed in my grandparents’ backyard would be soft and red in April. While our grandmother tended about in her cloth gloves and faded sunhat, my brother and I would salt the slugs we plucked from the compost urns, or dig furrows in the clay. Sometimes we…
The day Congress voted to repeal parts of Obamacare, Mama and I had decided to prepare a dish from Abuela’s cookbook: Torrejas de camarón con salsa de pipán. Mama had to pull out the recipe book to look at the ingredients and instructions. She didn’t know this one by heart. “How’s Dad been?” I asked…
by Dominic Schnabel Last names are hard, mine no exception. Schnabel. I have heard it butchered in every which way possible. Extra emphasis on the “a”, “bell” instead of “bull,” even adding in a few “p’s” and “k’s” for extra enunciation. Those familiar with the name’s German origin must think that I bleed beer and…