When They Laughed at My Stutter
I was eight years old when I first understood what it meant to be different. It was a Tuesday morning, crisp and cool like most in Butte, Montana. The frost still clung to the windows when I walked to school,…
I was eight years old when I first understood what it meant to be different. It was a Tuesday morning, crisp and cool like most in Butte, Montana. The frost still clung to the windows when I walked to school,…
I was 14 when I saw George Floyd die on my phone screen. 15 when I marched downtown. 16 when I got tear-gassed for holding a sign that read “Am I next?” Justice isn’t theoretical for my generation. It’s urgent.…