Gentlebeings, I started this newsletter, as many activists/theologians/creatives have before me, out of a deep ache. A deep knowing that everything wasn't quite right. I am old enough to remember (sigh) the fervor of the 2020 anti-racism resurgence. I witnessed the black squares of solidarity on Instagram (which nobody asked for), anti-racist book sales skyrocket, guilt-ridden donations to Black and BIPOC individuals/organizations, and performative activism in abundance. It troubled me because I knew that the backlash and apathy would eventually come. We are in those days now. Non-profits...

Gentlebeings, My apologies on the delay in this column for the month of September. I have to be honest about the violence that a Black person must undergo in order to write a column of this nature in a country that is actively going against people of color, those who have disabilities, queer peoples...anyone marked others. Every single time I sat down to write, a mourning rage filled my being to the point that writing seemed disingenuous. I want to be helpful rather than hurtful when I write. So I sat. And I sat. And I heard the words of a friend that beckoned me to "find where the light...

Gentlebeings, Last month, my mission in this newsletter was to cultivate a kernel of hope. I wrote in a wave of mounting exhaustion and confusion that I perceived in so many colleagues, movement workers, ministers, etc. Today, I continue that cultivation. Knowing that words alone aren't enough. But they are something. I hope to share some pain and some balm in this issue. I start with a grounding framework by Lucille Clifton that I love: "won't you celebrate with mewhat i have shaped intoa kind of life? i had no model.born in babylonboth nonwhite and womanwhat did i see to be except myself?i...

Gentlebeings, I start this newsletter confessing a lethargy and numbness that is uncharacteristic for myself. I find myself at a crossroads for this newsletter as I survey the politics and praxis of this nation. I am subjected to laughter, rage, and news of genocide(s) every single day that I enter the space called The Internet. I join the intuition of those like my colleague M, who has been reflective of how to write and create in this hour. Who feels the need for a shift. I don't want to be noise. I don't want to stoke hatred. I don't want to be unhelpful. How can I possibly with...

Gentlebeings, I wonder if each generation that has lived on this earth felt like there was too much going on. So much life and death and beauty and chaos that it was hard to catch a break for respite. I wonder this because what I see in this world feels at sometimes new and at other times ancient. The need to categorize unto diminishing. The oneupmanship that I experience in rooms that weren't meant for this Black disabled body. And the sheer force of beauty that comes when I look at the birds outside of my window. Has it always been this way?  I've been sitting with the work of the Black...

Greetings dear ones, In the last issue of this newsletter I sat with the stories of bodies. The lies. The unrighteousness in the policies and norms that are created...That thread of body stories hasn't quite left me yet and I want to return to it as I think about the stories that have been written about who we are, what we are...what we deserve. As a theoethicist that thinks deeply about ethical practices, my mind is set on the stories of disabled bodies. The wisdoms that are tucked away in the practices and communities that we as disabled people nurture. The ways that these wisdoms are...