T oday is my birthday. The sun is shining, the trees are waving through my windows, surrounded by the sounds of the wind from the oceans just a few miles away. It is the first bright day all week and I'm claiming it for myself. I was doing a lot of thinking about life. That seems the thing we do on the day before or day of our birthday. My late father once told me he had more years behind him than in front of him. He was in his mid-60s at the time. I'm not there yet, of saying that, but who knows? So I am deciding that of the years I have in front of me, I'm making some intentions about life. When you are an older Black woman, an educated, cis-het Black woman working in spaces that wants to erase your brilliance for the sake of an empty "woke" and "real pain", you sometimes stop and wonder what in the world happened. I found myself questioning the work I'd been doing for the past four years and if any of it mattered, after all I was no longer tha...
life, really, and a latte by Tayé Foster Bradshaw