There is a house in a nice neighborhood in good school district in a chocolate city devoid of soul. The blackhand-side kinda soul, I mean. Apparently, there is no room for such things in Atlanta, where old aunties’ houses are now fried, dyed and fully gentrified by that new “new” Atlanta that wants its homes and schools and stores and neighborhoods lily. Damn our money. Damn our education. Damn our picture-perfect, picket fence-ready family. Go on, git. Our kind is not wanted here. There is no rope. There is no tree. But it feels like a lynching nonetheless. Trying to keep that strongface, y’all. For the sake of my babies. For the sake of my sanity. But really, I’m feeling like a room without a roof. But not in a Pharrell “’cause I’m happy” kinda way. We just want a nice, safe place to lay our heads. A good school for the girlpies. Some grass to play on and a grocery store stocked with healthy food. Does Black skin really negate these things? In 2014, no less? Makes me wanna holler, throw up both my hands. And put a clip in mama’s gun. Why can’t we ever just… be?
Mom. NY Times bestselling author. Pop culture ninja. Unapologetic lover of shoes, bacon and babies. Nice with the verbs. Founder of the top black parenting website, MyBrownBaby.