“Ellen H. Swallow Richards (1842-1911)”
“Jocelyn Bell Burnell (b. 1943)”
(poetry)
Category: Race/riot/rebellion/revolution
With each video, I knew Pete was getting closer to his death. I never believed he would make it out alive.
(nonfiction)
little teeth of pinion, / gears of language / spinning in your mouth
(poetry)
Every day their breath brushes back and forth / like wind erosion over the etched inscriptions / that say our veterans are our heroes.
(poetry)
we gently break their beacons from our ankles / caress the skin where now the signals stop.
(poetry)
On our / walk the hound and I / noted something fecund.
(poetry)
Our government only practices against a sunset bleeding into the cradle of tactile landing.
(Poetry)
Merely archaeological, the images of strewn masks take on a symbolic meaning for America’s ambivalence towards public health.
(The Loop)
I pledge allegiance to no man, / let alone some fucking flag
(poetry)
Eyes reflect the distortions / of a whitewashed mind.
(poetry)
Whilst searching through an unfamiliar room, / the guest against the bedstead sets abloom. / A blemished bruise that raise on his shank pain’s gloom.
(poetry)
Lexie Pitter is a newfound activist, bringing police brutality protests to Chicago’s North Side, where residents perceive police as benign protectors, as opposed to threats to the innocent. An interview by Avani Kalra.
Hunter said she aims to “visually discuss law and society in slavery and racism through physical spaces.”
(The Loop)
America ignored dogs
splinters floods tears / the people who’ve had citizenship for / over a hundred years.
(poetry)
dark people mark a place as dangerous or destitute, the word / jawn marks a place people gloss over on their way to DC
(poetry)
Keep it secret, keep it safe:
(poetry)
Easier to say, there / are too many poets and there aren’t enough rebels.
(poetry)
“What have they been feeding you in here?” I ask.
“A bunch of bullshit!”
(nonfiction)
“Whether V’s and June’s story is your or my family story,” writes Chelsea Biondodillo, “it is still our story and it should rattle and anger even as it hollows out a soft spot in the heart for these fierce and sorrowful unsung stories.”
(review)
Michael McColly writes: “Farber states what is obvious for anyone who’s spent any time or been affected by America’s massive prison industrial complex: ‘Sometimes, we need to stare at the drear reaches of our national soul to understand who we are and who we wish to be.’”
(review)
As children under Nixon and teens under Reagan, first-wave Generation Xers like myself have spent our lives watching the rout of the political left from power. Progressive reforms from the New Deal and Great Society were dismantled piecemeal to enrich a profiteering few.
(nonfiction)
I want something in return for telling you my story. I want you to remember me. I want you to say that I was a capable man.
(fiction)
Actually, don’t bother measuring. The audience won’t know how to taste for the right textures and flavors anyway. It only matters to them that it’s an authentic recipe. The only recipe that your abuela—your last known living relative and the only brown person responsible for teaching you culture—gave you.
(fiction)
There were some things going on that passengers wanted to believe nobody noticed. There were couples swapping partners, both with and without the knowledge and consent of the people they’d arrived with. There were orgies with all kinds of drugs, especially among the senior citizens.
(fiction)
“With therapists like this, who needs parents?” reviewer Natania Rosenfeld asks.
(review)
Oak Woods Cemetery is located in the predominantly African-American neighborhood of Grand Crossing, and the Confederate Monument towers over the gravesite of the Chicagoan suffragist and anti-lynching activist Ida Bell Wells-Barnett, a former slave.
(nonfiction)
After a moment of ‘studying,’ Horsecollar said, “That’s a mighty iffy saying of Lincoln’s, but it makes a lot of sense.” He slightly nodded, but I wasn’t at all sure we understood one another.
(fiction)
“I was in the convent at the time. I knew that I was lesbian. I was twenty-six. I was in a new program that allowed us more latitude than your ordinary canonical novice has. I had heard about, probably read an article in the newspaper, about this uprising, and it’s as if it drew me – not the riot, but the act of rebelling,” Ginny Apuzzo tells Tamika Thompson.
Another Chicago Magazine 