You are not a label
I don’t mind labels. I actually like them. A label is just a sticker. It can be removed. It can be moved around. It can stay on indefinitely. Labels and…
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i embody the nomad life
Even if you’ve only known me for ten minutes, let alone ten years, you will understand that i live the nomadic lifestyle–vagabond, wanderluster, constant-jaunter, etc. I love being on the move; i dislike staid or static existence. New experiences, new lands, new people are what get me going in the morning–even more so than coffee—and i LOVE coffee. Over the past year and a half, i’ve been introduced and bonded with a tertiary family: the Nomadness Travel Tribe, most commonly referred to as The Tribe. We are a global collective of world travelers, of nomads, of folks with the wanderlust affliction–we do not stay still for more than…
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You are not a label
I don’t mind labels. I actually like them. A label is just a sticker. It can be removed. It can be moved around. It can stay on indefinitely. Labels and categories are only measures of identification. They make things easier to sort through, to know what might occur. A label is not a scarlet letter branded into your flesh, an Auschwitz tattoo pricked into your arm. People get riled up, proclaiming, “I hate labels!” or “Don’t put me in a category.” Bro, you’re a human being, there’s no singular definition. You’re not pigeonholed or limited to just one label for the rest of your life, sister. Only time…
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Post-Racial America? Ha!
Post-Racial America? Ha! I can’t help but scoff at the notion of this term whenever it’s uttered. We live in a post-racial America in the same vein that god exists: it makes for a cool story, bro—something soothing yet entertaining enough to tell the kids while tucking them them in; a story of hope, possible triumph, leaving them with a smile and no ill-thoughts brewing nightmares. But it’s all a fallacy, a charade, smoke & mirrors—as real as having rocks as pets. One should not be a grown adult, experienced in the world and still believe as truth faery tales, crafting organic life and companionship from inanimate objects.…
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disambiguation: black is a color; Black is culture, history, music
I’ve been sitting on this piece for quite some time. It’s witnessed two Black History Months pass by, actually. After the resurgence of racial upheaval and tensions (e.g. Trayvon Martin), racist ideologies and commentary spewed forth, tipped over by yesterday’s Gawker post regarding the outrage of the Hunger Games’ casting of Black folks for—get this—Black characters, a piece indicative of a large slice of mainstream America, its pop culture and racist attitudes, i figured it was about time i published this. Let’s put this out there from the jump: black is a color; Black is an embodiment of culture, of history, of music—a people. Black people: we are…
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Love to travel? Love me? Support Nomad•ness Travel Tribe Kickstarter
I love to travel. Being the ever curious one, a veritable sponge, i’ve had the bug since i was a child—always wanting to see the sites and distant lands i read about, whether fantasical or real, didn’t matter. As a kid i wasn’t presented with the opportunity to travel outside of the Tri-State often. Before i was 19 the farthest i traveled that i can recall was to DC. I believe i went once to North Carolina with my god mother, but i vaguely remember it, i may even be making it up. I didn’t get on my first plane until i was 23—i went to Lexington, Kentucky…
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No, Rihanna is not responsible for your child
With the recent social media mosh pit over Chris Brown and Rihanna’s rekindling, at least for music’s sake, i’ve seen the word “responsibility” thrown around all willy-nilly. It has been said that she is not upholding her responsibility to her impressionable young fans. Ummm. Wait. What!? Since when did releasing music come with the caveat that someone must now be given extraneous responsibilities? Ahh, probably when Americans began to blame others for their faulty parenting. Every human being is responsible for, in order: self, child, family. That’s it. Now, if you want to rebuttal with, you’re not a parent or else you’d know children come first, well, you’re mistaken.…
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