Whenever an author lays claim to what it means to be Black, a site of disruption is created, wherein a Black audience member is expected to identify with or see as “truth” a representation of himself that cannot be.
We value a musician's completed compositions, technical virtuosity, or the ability of a performer to express emotion. But what about the value of listening?
My face and my head pulse, and so does the radio. I’m losing track of time, but I can tell that we’re close to the beach when the police officer stops us—the ceaseless strip of road has gone satisfyingly gritty with sand.
A look at pandemic's effect on canning, the practice of collecting cans and bottles throughout New York City and returning them to redemption centers for money.
As racist statues topple, what will replace them? The students of Professor Patricia Kim’s Spring 2020 Interdisciplinary Seminar, "Women and Public Art" imagined the next generation of monuments for their final projects.
A song that captures the essence of my teenage years, a song of longing, confusion, and boredom, of that crazy desperation where it feels like your chest will explode because you like someone so much, then waking up the next morning and realizing you never cared about them.