The author discusses Black feminist breathing, academia as access point, and writing three books that came from the same decision.
“The blood of the thing is the truth of the thing.”
Years ago, desperate to find a babysitter in a short period of time, I joined two local parents’ groups on the web and remained subscribed to them long after my situation had been resolved.
When you don’t have the words / what will you use to speak (to truth)? Whiteness is structured like a language
Reminding us of what should never have been forgotten
Rickie Vasquez is wondering if all you ever have to offer him are crumbs.
“What do you do when you’re born—without your consent—and you find out later that your life was at the cost of someone else’s? That’s how high the stakes can be.”
“I don’t want the kind of career where everything is sensible and safe; I’d rather suffer through the anxiety of wondering where I’m going next than suffer the boredom of dancing in the same safe square.”
Radical feminist films from the legendary choreographer, artist, and dancer
She sitting across from me on the train and people are shooting crazy looks at her cause she shoulda got off four stops ago with the rest of the white people. They prolly wondering if she missed her stop. I know she ain’t, but no one’s asking.
“The reward is getting through the tough stuff. And that’s what’s perplexing about the art thing. When I was going to school there were kids that could draw their asses off. There were kids that were better draftsman than me, for certain. But no one was more determined than me.”
“I don’t make films for the audience, I make them for the subjects, and I try to position those subjects and the camera so that there’s a element of generosity between the two.”
Early film, nineteenth-century science fiction, and experimental musical languages serve a young artist’s explorations of race and our political present.
From the Pentecostal churches of his youth to ’80s underground Goth punk and queer clubs to museums around the world, an iconic performance artist tells his story.
Raoul Peck’s I Am Not Your Negro testifies that James Baldwin’s embattled America is still our own.
Douglas Kearney’s buck studies recasts worn out notions of black masculinity.
Friendship and the lies we tell ourselves in Zadie Smith’s Swing Time.