Month: June 2017

Chicago
June 22, 2017

Chicago

A stinking swamp burned up, ploughed out, put on display. Flames gave way to Burnham’s right-angled concrete streets. Mangled skeletons found in the bowels of a castle, masked by white marble. The garble of its politicians deemed this city windy. And while White folks appropriated …

Poetry
-
by Emily
Martha
June 14, 2017

Martha

Whenever I catch the scent of freshly cut peppermint leaves and kibba spices or feel the inside of a malted milk ball sizzle and melt on my tongue or pass grape leaves on the side of the road that wouldn’t be missed by anyone if …

Story
-
by Emily
Brown-ish
June 6, 2017

Brown-ish

Since I was a child,
people have wanted
to know what exotic
fish swims in my
gene pool and makes
my hair wild.

I was 14 when
I learned to tame
dried out wires
and crunched up frizz
with a comb.

My mother had
no way to teach
or to know
how to make
quarrelsome curls
comply.

Never with a brush.
Never when dry.

 When people ask why
my skin contains
notes of olive
and ambiguity,
they seek origins
of the community
that made me
brown
ish.

Half of my people
come from Cedars,
from ground lamb,
garlic and the eager
ambition to succeed.

Has it been a misdeed
to omit the narrative
that makes me white
ish

In order to please
those who want to
know what I am?

 To respond simply
with Lebanese
seems to appease
curiosity and
put ease
to animosity,
fear that accompanies
the unknown.


Tomorrow, I will go
to the little village
on the mountain,
knowing neither
the language nor
the history,
and meet the people
whose culture
I have claimed.
Story
-
by Emily