We met in the second row of Bible study, both of us scribbling in notebooks instead of listening to Pastor Ray’s sermon about the loaves and fishes. Jordan was Catholic. I was Baptist. We debated saints, sang hymns differently, and…
You’d think the truth was easier to come by in a small town. Everything’s slower, everyone knows each other, and the gossip flows faster than traffic. But truth isn’t always about what’s said—it’s about what’s silenced. I didn’t grow up…
I write today with the weight of sorrow heavy on my heart. America—the country I loved, the country I believed in, the country that shaped me—has died. I was born in 1950 in Detroit, Michigan, the beating heart of American industry.…
I was eleven when my father got arrested for sitting at a lunch counter. Not shouting. Not throwing anything. Just sitting. It was a Woolworth’s in Greensboro, North Carolina. He wasn’t part of the original four, but he joined the…