To a Lady I Call Mama Maya…

Dearest Dr. Marguerite Ann “Maya” Johnson Angelou,

I hope you don’t mind that I lovingly refer to you as Mama Maya. I’ve never met you in person, but I feel as though we know each other. We know each other, because we’ve both experienced and shared (to varying degrees) the bittersweet complexities of life as a Black woman in America. When you wrote, you knew someone like me would read it. As you lived your life, you knew that someone like me was watching. Either way, I could not only relate, but I could learn from you. In your words, in your journey, I have seen both a mirror and a compass, and I have learned in many ways how to navigate. You were, and will forever be, a north star.


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Let’s Trade Russell Simmons!

Hey, I have an idea! Let’s round up Russell Simmons’ self-hating ass along with other willingly ignorant people and put them in a time machine! Yeah, that’s it! Let’s drop them off in the worst, most treacherous year of the slave trade, onto the worst, hottest, more oppressive plantation one could find and see how much their views and actions would change! 😀


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