“I didn’t do it because my feet itch.” That’s how my uncle Donald used to tell us he had a logical reason for doing something. The exchange usually began with my aunt Ernestine saying, “Well Donald why did you do that?” And he’d respond that he didn’t do it because his feet itched. It stuck. My cousins and I say it to each other. And I’ve even found myself in the middle of a work meeting responding that I didn’t do a thing because my feet itched. Try explaining that t[...]
A story about pregnancy, reproductive health, single motherhood, and teen pregnancy.
Winter, 1965 Seemed like there was a river of blood. But since it was just her in the bathtub in the bathroom, the source had to be her alone. Maybe for the better. In the current of red it was harder to see whether everything had passed already. Her insides felt like something had to be making its way out. Hurt more than cramps but she supposed X had just said it wouldn’t hurt much to make her less afraid about a choice she ain’t really have. She already had two mouths to feed and her y[...]
I was watching the Love and Hip Hop reunion last week and something occurred to me. Somewhere between Olivia Pope and Amina Pankey by way of Mary Jane Paul and K Michelle, Black women are having, and talking about, abortions on TV. Round about last fall, near the intersection of reality tv and Shondaland, we saw a Black woman get on a table, have an abortion and then go back to her job and life without seeming to miss a beat (Olivia Pope). We saw a Black woman reveal the abortion she had kept[...]