When I was eight, my dad—baba—gave me a mini plow.
My hero is not just one person.
I stand motionless. I do not jump. I do not move. Breathing is even questionable in this moment.
Though I’m genuinely grateful for my education shaping me into a thoughtful individual, I find myself asking a crucial question—has my ability to critique shrouded my ability to love?
I want to clearly make one point—every human life is of equal value.
What’s on my wish list for 2015?
I thank God my brain is a private place.
Recently, I encountered an epistemological rupture as I started to listen to the messages I thought no longer existed in my Blue Devil community.