Browsing: Editorials

       We are rocking and reeling all of us, not Black folks, not just Brown folks, not just our LGBTQIA+ siblings, not just the poor, the immigrant, or the voiceless, even those who are trying to “pass” but all of us. All of us who still have a heart, a conscience, and eyes to see what is unfolding right before us.

       Under this administration of Trumpets, a return of the same ol tired, dangerous energy of dried dung that has long tried to silence us proud Black people are once again under attack. We are being criminalized in our communities, ignored in crises, damn near erased from history, and exploited on every front. And yet, many of us remain hesitant to stand together, unsure of who to follow or who to trust.

       Donald Trump calls it “big” and “beautiful.” He flashes it like ILL-gotten gain at campaign rallies, the massive, multi-billion-dollar legislation packages he brags about. Infrastructure, border security, policing, tax cuts. To Trump, these bills are monuments to his greatness. To us, Black, Brown, Indigenous, poor, queer, immigrant, these bills are reminders that this nation still sees us as expendable.

       Is this selling out the Black cause for a few dollars—or is this the kind of awakening that stirred Nat Turner from silence to sacrifice?

      The NAACP is decidedly  grounded in legacy and moral clarity: it will not invite Donald Trump to speak at its 2025 national convention. In doing so, the nation’s oldest “Badest and Boldest” civil rights organization has reminded the country and Black America that principle must always come before politics because you don’t want to Fool Around and Find Out!

    When history repeats itself, it is not by accident, it is by negligence. It is by willful ignorance dressed as patriotism, by fear disguised as policy, and by power wielded without justice. From the smoldering ashes of the 1965 Watts Rebellion to the global outcry following George Floyd’s murder in 2020, America’s refusal to confront its original sins has become its most destructive tradition. And today, as Donald Trump re-emerges as a central force in American politics, wielding rhetoric that inflames division and rewrites the past, we are watching history loop in real time—only this time, the stakes feel apocalyptic.

       As I sit beside my father’s bedside, time seems to bend. Each breath he takes feels sacred, and each moment that passes invites me to listen, not just with my ears, but with my soul. In this silence, there is sound. I hear the quiet truth: life is precious beyond measure.

       It’s graduation season. Test season. The time of year when young people are pushing hard to succeed and please those that love them. The pressure is real for them—but so are their accomplishments. And while life continues to remind us of its challenges—aging parents, our own aging bodies, and the responsibilities of adulthood—I’ve found hope and pride in the achievements of the next generation.