I don’t usually talk to taxi drivers. The man whose taxi I got in this morning surprised me with a conversation I would never forget. It’s not a superiority thing or anything of that nature, but growing up in an immigrant family in the US, if you couldn’t do something that you could’ve done on…
My father rises before the sun. My mother rises before them both. He stumbles into the bathroom, and she marches into the kitchen. A large bowl of oatmeal and black coffee greet him at the kitchen table. He asks for brown sugar. She refuses. Sugar levels were too high last week. Peach skin flakes fall…
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…
by Marina Tinone “The Colored Doll” I presented these dolls to them and… [t]he conclusion which I was forced to reach was that these children [in Clarendon County], like other human beings who are subjected to an obviously inferior status in the society in which they live, have been definitely harmed in the development of…
by Nicole Chávez (Staff Writer) STOP: WAKEFIELD – 241ST STREET MEDIAN HOUSEHOLD INCOME: $38,261 On a dull, fall afternoon at the northern edge of the Bronx, a subway car screeches to a stop at an empty platform. I sigh in content at the familiar scene. The subway stop is a mere ten-minute walk away from…