Could you please turn down — and I use this term very loosely — “your” music?
“Baby’s first lecture?”
“Hmm, white supremacy seems too obvious an answer.”
“Drink Pepsi. And have a nicer day.”
“How’s your husband?”
“Pink is for girls!”
“It’s not about race.”
“You keep using a weird combination of words. ‘Post’ and ‘racial’ implies that race is no longer an issue.”
“Do you have one that says fascism?”
Welp. It was fun while it lasted.
How about a new president-elect? How about a whole new world on another planet entirely?
Imagine sitting your half-Black, half-Mexican child down to explain why you expect an old white guy to break into your house once a year.
This is my box full of insecurities. I’m letting as many of them go as possible before 2017 because, well, you know.
Convince the privilege they’re oppressed? Check!
But Dickens, what IS co-parenting?
The Afro. The Extensions. The Chemical
That’s it! That’s the year 2016!
“What’s the hardest thing about your job as a 911 dispatcher?”
When all the right words aren’t the right word for you, which word do you choose?
“How do I explain anything not heterosexual to my definitely heterosexual children?”