Oh Wattpad, my Wattpad

In 8th grade, almost everyone had “knack” for writing. Also, almost everyone had a Wattpad account. Back then, I truly believed I was destined to become the next Hemingway and as a result I started writing about four different books all at once. Then it became five. Then six. All of which I spent 99% of the time creating detailed profiles for the characters and the other 1% editing the same overall summary. So while I had a fleshed out Chloe Peterson, who was scarred by a traumatic childhood and could never trust again, none of my stories ever went past the Short Prologue page. 

But here I am. Five years later. Another prologue. 

BUT. I think this story might go somewhere. It is not New York Times Bestseller list worthy. It is not a secret masterpiece that future historians will break their backs for, even centuries after my tragic but glamorous death. But it is the start of my pedge to dedication. I will finish this book. No matter how many tears I may shed or days of sleep I may lose. No matter the challenges the heavens dare set in my path, not even Netflix will stop this young girl. 

Anyway, here’s the link to my Wattpad story: Treacherous Minds. 1 like = 1 prayer.

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I Have Not Actively Worked. I Have Sat Quietly.

Teri Carter's Library

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In times like this, white people are quick to throw their hands up and dissociate themselves from racism and the person accused of the racist act. But how many of them can say they have actively worked to challenge the racism in the people around them? How many folks have sat quietly as Uncle Jimbo tells the story of the time he put that one nigger in his place at work?       ~~ Jamilah Lemieux, Ebony Magazine

Within minutes of seeing it, I send a message to his mother, my cousin. Have you seen your son’s new tattoo?

There is a flag. There is a noose. There are the words Southern Justice scrolled across.

 I’ve seen it, she says. But he just turned 18. He’s an adult. What am I supposed to do? I want to scream, You are supposed to act like his fucking mother! and You’re…

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