Shay 
Entering Black History Month this year, the words that come to mind are cognitive dissonance. On the surface, it appears as if Black people in the United States have come a long way. We had a Black president, our current vice president is Black—hell, she’s an HBCU grad and a member of one of the …
I was six years old. It was March 13, 1979. My father took the oath to become a Cook County, Illinois, deputy sheriff. It was a decision that, for a Black man born and raised in Arkansas under Jim Crow to a family with little in the way of material resources, promised to be the …
In a culture that worships at the altar of youth, my enthusiasm about turning 50 (a mere 72 hours from when I’m writing this) may seem strange. I mean, 50 is old, isn’t it? Or at least well along the way to “old.” And who the hell wants to be old? Despite what society tells …