Growing up in a Northern suburban school system, there was so much about Black history that we were not taught. After all, it was the 1950s. We Read more...
Author: Amy Bryant
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their Read more...
I was enjoying a leisurely afternoon as I sat on a bench in front of the Gazebo, absorbing a huge patch of sunlight that shone forth amidst Read more...
NY. 1951. It was Saturday morning, and I was heading out to visit my auntie in Harlem. In the suburbs we had no subways, so I walked Read more...
Neighbors’ lawns filled with jack-o-lanterns, skeletons and spiders herald the approach of Halloween—fun, harmless mischief, a sense of community. I remember being a little girl all dressed Read more...
Don’t discuss religion or politics. That was the message we were given early on. But I’m originally a New Yorker, and my friends and I didn’t adhere Read more...
Just this past week, I spoke with two friends about the current state of the nation. Each of them welled up with tears of hopelessness. These are Read more...
Children in cages on US soil: American family values, myth or reality? How does a nation that places such high regard for the family justify tearing children Read more...
“I’m a human being . . . I am not a mascot!” The Native American woman stood before the TV cameras, angry, insulted and ready to make Read more...
It was not Black History month, but as I looked out over the crowd of faces, I was filled to overflowing with pride. Every shade of black Read more...