When Worlds Die Today the patriarch of my maternal family died. My Tío Lucho, my mother’s primo hermano. Although we knew death had come calling for him, it is equally painful that he is no longer part of the physical realm. In speaking with my Tío Lucho’s younger brother, my…

I am the author of Strength of Soul. Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents by Isabel Wilkerson Reading Caste: The Origins of our Discontents was one of the most enlightening, affirming, and motivating experiences of my life. Caste is one of the first books in which the contrast in my…

Rejecting the Poison This essay originally appeared in the December 2017 issue of Hold The Line Magazine. Not until I became a mother did I begin to question the language and ideology of racial difference. My son presents as white, with light skin, blond hair and blue green eyes. I…

Time On this exact day 11 years ago — Tuesday, November 29, 2011 — my beloved father died. His death is the most traumatic experience of my life. My father died tragically — only 2 months after a diagnosis of stage 4 pancreatic cancer, and just 2 days before his…

Belonging Belonging. It is a concept I have pondered my entire life. When you can claim two languages as your native tongues, where do you belong? When you are a citizen of more than one nation, where do you belong? When your ancestors were Eastern European, West African, Native American…

31 31 is the number of the home my family has lived in for nearly 14 years. The only home my 11-year-old son has ever known. The home my husband and I moved into before marriage, before parenthood, and before the tragic loss of my father. In October we will…

While They Were Learning “This happened while the children were learning?” My son posed this question to my husband and me as he ate his breakfast, the morning after the mass murder of children and educators in Uvalde, Texas. Rather than begin his morning talking about his upcoming day, or…

Keep An Open Mind “Keep an open mind.” These were words my father always quoted to me, and words he lived by. Although I have not heard him utter those words in over a decade, I too live by them. My father’s open mind is the reason I am here. …

Never the Same Not long after my father died, in November 2011, I was speaking with a dear friend about how everything around me had changed. Once my father was gone, everything felt different. My friend wisely said to me, “It’s like a table that once had 4 legs, and…