Laughing with my fellow magical black girls

“No person is your friend who demands your silence, or denies your right to grow.”

Alice Walker

Ann Arbor Sky

For eighteen years of my life my mother’s arms were the warmest home I ever knew. A home for when I felt scared or lonely or sad. What an actual home lacked in structural support, my mother made up for in love and kindness.

Overlooking la Septa Avenida (Seventh Avenue) in zone 1 of  Quetzaltenango, Guatemala

To my fellow Central American unicorns,

“A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are built for” -John A. Shedd


Oddly enough, my most pivotal memories of us are simple conversations that meant nothing at the time, but mean everything today.


I’m not here to talk about all of the wonderful aspects of being biracial. That’s for another time. I’m not here to explain to you the entire world of a mixed kid in one essay. That’s impossible.


Before you read on, it’s pronounced like a T-S. Tsao.

My second grade teacher would always let me check out the advanced reading books, so she was pretty cool by my standards. But she could never say my name right, and that bothered me. No, not ‘chow,’ I would say. Not ‘cow,’

I had a fanboy moment a couple of weeks ago. “Steven Universe” is one of my favorite TV shows. Yeah, it is a children’s cartoon, but it also has a good storyline and complex character development in addition to its wholesome themes of friendship.