I miss alcohol. I’ll just tell you straight up: I miss it. No bullshit.

I remember vivid details about the morning when I first decided I didn’t want to go to church anymore. I remember that my mother attempted to wake me several times that morning when she was already fully dressed, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, wearing her nurse’s uniform that she had to wear every fourth Sunday because…

I was 13 years old the first time I shoplifted. My sister, at 15, was my lookout.

I am not ashamed of being broke.

I think I must have been 9, maybe 10 years old when it finally dawned on me that the doctrine Pastor Bivens was hollering at the assembled black folk from the pulpit of the First Baptist Church didn’t make any damn sense to me.

On the last day of fourth grade, when the final bell rang, we all came roaring out of the front door of the school as you do when you’re nine years old and it’s the last day of school. Out into the sunlight with that feel for freedom that you haven’t felt since your very first bill arrived in the mail. It was…

Every time I read about or see a news story on the opioid epidemic, I greet it with a resounding “So what?" It’s an admittedly vindictive stance that I am in no way ashamed of. When I see that whole towns are languishing under the tyranny of the needle, I couldn’t bring myself to care less and you don’t need to have…

Black people are made perpetual victims of confirmation bias.