“It is ludicrous for the society to believe that these temporary measures can long contain the tempers of an oppressed people. And when the dynamite does go off, pious pronouncements of patience should not go forth. Blame should not be placed on ‘outside agitators’ or on ‘Communist influence’ or on advocates of Black Power. That dynamite was placed there by white racism and it was ignited by white racist indifference and unwillingness to act justly.”

Kwame Ture & Charles V. Hamilton, Black Power: The Politics of Liberation

In The Devil You Know: A Manifesto for Black Power, Charles Blow challenges…


I still remember the day I discovered Hyattsville. A rainy evening in May many years ago, I navigated unfamiliar streets only to find this unique space, a mix of buildings and soil, that promised to be everything I wanted in the DC area. We were looking for a house and unbeknownst to me, I found home.

Closing day was a week before Christmas in December 2009. The rain from May was now fresh snow and a minor, though substantial, prelude to Snowmaggedon in 2010. We were young and so were our children and filled with the joy of being first-time…


Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Todd Heisler/The New York Times

I must admit that I am often skeptical of public figures who are bestowed a status — auntie, uncle, cookout invitee — that grants them membership into our cultural community absent birthright. There is such great, irrevocable reverence and presumed responsibility that comes along with that status that I still cannot quite wrap my head around the ease with which it seems those titles and invitations are given. What my brain and my heart can comprehend, though, is the treasure of one’s lifework. This is how I feel about Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg.

This generation knew her as Notorious RBG…


Plus: 35 Policy Recommendations to Protect Black Futures

Growing up in Memphis, I never felt a need to either hide or display my blackness. Everyone around me was Black and you stood out by being smart and ambitious. I did not lack role models or positive examples and although I was smart, I wasn’t extraordinary; I was doing what was expected of me. One can imagine, then, how that shifts when you suddenly enter an environment where being Black was rare and it was your responsibility to show that it was — also — special.

In these environments, a so-called “elite” prep school in New Hampshire and a…


Kenneth and Jasmine Worles. Memphis, 2020. Photograph by Jamie Harmon (www.quarantinememphis.com)

After 28 days I think I have settled into a routine.

I wake up, walk downstairs, move my laptop from the sofa to the countertop, start a pot of coffee, and apply eye drops to prepare myself for a long day in front of a screen. On weekends I let the sun in and play music that on any other day would complicate a day full of conference calls. I check in with my aging parents who in most cases text me first. I Facetime and Houseparty with my girlfriends in the comfort of a headscarf or charcoal mask and…


(Or: On Nov. 6th, White Supremacy or Nah?)

Source unknown.

I’ve struggled with how to say what I’ve been feeling the past few days and at every mention of “love and light” I find myself singing a bastardized version of Solange’s Cranes in the Sky:

I can’t love it away…

Away, away, away, away, away, away…

Away, away, away, away, away, away!

Honestly, the song in its original, perfect form would suffice.

I know what you expect me to say…something inspiring, something hopeful, something that reminds you that in “times such as these” we should all “cling to each other,” lean on “what we value,” and show through our actions…


My dad at the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial on September 14, 2016. It was the third time in life I’ve ever seen my dad cry.

On days like today, the 50th anniversary of the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in Memphis, TN, or any day acknowledging a pivotal moment in history for that matter, we all remember the person for what we have come to learn and appreciate about them.

Today, we’ll all “be” Dr. King. We’ll share his powerful words. We’ll reflect on the lessons we believe his work taught us. We’ll become activists for a day. The cynic in me wants to complete this by saying:

Then tomorrow we’ll back to business as usual…forgetting the very lessons we profess to have…


Mom and me, circa 1983.

That’s my mama and me. (I loved that bear, by the way.)

I was about two or three years old and my mother was about my age now — 36 or 37. My mom is a college graduate who made her career as a social worker. She and my dad were married for close to 17 years before they divorced and, together, they raised my brother who is nine years my senior and me. Around the time they divorced, though, my mother had a nervous breakdown. I didn’t know what it was at that time. All I knew was that…

Candace Bacchus Hollingsworth

National Co-Chair of Our Black Party and Former Mayor of Hyattsville, MD. Memphis Made & Raised. Ellis + Zora’s Mama. Black, not POC. TEXT ME: 410–210–4616

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