To Blackness
As it happens, I have never tired of blackness—its Marcus Garvey, Raisin in the Sun, Tuskeegee airmen. Its Strivers Row and liver lips, its Dred Scott, Freedman’s Bureau, Scott Joplin. Some say black is swarthy, gloomy, evil, fiendish, but we all spring from the tribes— Ashanti, Bobo, Fulani, Wolof—their cowrie shells and krobo beads sewn […]