Kosovar filmmaker Lendita Zeqiraj shows us a group of French women from different generations of the same family loudly confronting each other with their views on life, love, desire, race, men, and the patriarchy. The family gathering turns into chaos while the youngest one – the only boy – looks for an escape.
In 1950, Woody Guthrie moved to an apartment building in Brooklyn. His landlord: Fred Trump, father of Donald. And yes, Woody wrote a song about it.
We are in a deep spiritual crisis that can’t be relieved by politics, or philosophy.
I broke into tears before the great abbey door because the lament of the elements had overwhelmed my heart.
Walk so that everyone knows where you’ve been
and where you’re going, weathering
both trouble and affection, the gravel roads
turning into dirt.
Back then, whether or not you agreed with the white man, you didn’t question him, because that meant trouble and my family didn’t want trouble with anyone.
These authors pull no punches as they take on topics of race, gender, and justice.
It is no surprise that the whip is synonymous with New World slavery: its continual crack remained an audible threat to enslaved workers to keep at their work, reminding them … Continue reading →
That weekend was one of those that reminded us of what we love about living in the northern Shenandoah Valley—namely, events like the performance in Castleton, Virginia, some twenty-five miles … Continue reading →
In memory of Octavia E. Butler (June 22, 1947 – February 24, 2006) In the bus bay, stark half-darkness of a ship corridor, propellant smell of diesel. Clayark obliterates Greyhound—blur of fur on … Continue reading →
As decades-old sexual assault allegations increase, so does the question: why didn’t women report it sooner? Shame, fear of reprisals and the unfortunately common belief that they are responsible for … Continue reading →
. “Where are the African Gods to save us from this misery and shame?” Lyricist Abbey Lincoln and director Rodney Passé create a meditative portrait of black masculinity through images … Continue reading →
I will always be a stranger who never feels at home Eugene O’Neill . Let me begin by saying that nothing is as it seems and, in this case that … Continue reading →