I love James Baldwin.
As a fellow writer and Harlem native, he is my literary muse. When I first discovered his work, I felt as if he snatched the words off the tip of my tongue and splattered them on the page. He revealed me to myself, reaffirming my humanity in a country where blacks were offered a subpar education, fed subpar food, and left to rot in subpar housing.
Baldwin was and, perhaps, still remains America’s black revolutionary voice.
Continue reading What James Baldwin Taught Me About Racist Trolls
Stumbled across this today…
English 6-Period 5
January 30, 2007
What do you want to be when you grow up?
Ball in hand, one second on the clock; the athlete frantically prepares his course of action. As he drives down the middle of the court, the fate of the game is in his hands. He thrusts the powerful mass onto its target with brilliant caution and skill, hoping that his desperate attempt will prevail.
Power, not only, lays in mind of the craftsmen, however, it similarly lays in the tool of his craft. As the ball is to the player, so is the pen to the writer. As an aspiring journalist, the pen is the tool of my craft.
Nearly 6 years later, and I couldn’t have said it better myself…
Photo by frankjuarez/CC BY 2.0