I didn’t know just how pivotal sex therapy would be until my second session. Unpacking can be brutal. It requires that you hold a scalpel, constantly at the ready to slice yourself down the middle. Shit needs to pour out that’s clogging up the pipes, especially the sexual ones. Much…

Black Girlhood, Evolved Cross-posted on joiunspeakable.com/blog I bought my first pair of Bamboo earrings last week. I’m 32. Throughout my childhood, I’ve admired them in the glass cases of the neighborhood corner store or beauty supply. I want to talk about a time when I smelled of pink lotion and…

January 26, 2020. I’m folding clothes while cursing at the sky. My heart is broken as I think of the irreplaceable and complicated legend we just lost along with 8 other souls, 3 of whom children. All I could think was about their futures. How we and they were cut…

Never fuck with a writer. For we will quote tweet and blog post your life into infamy. It’s tough out here these days. Games are talked, some are played. There are moments you think there’s a spark, even if it’s purely physical. You ignore your leanings; the need to be…

(in this piece, I speak candidly about grief, loss, dreams, ancestral work and moving on) Have you ever felt a longing for something you’ve never had? Had pieces of your heart slipped so deeply past the surface they somehow hold you together? That’s how I’ve felt this week, only I…

From 2015–2018, I dated a man I thought was the love of my life. In many ways, he was. He fit the bill. He lovingly accepted my daughter, we made incredible plans, we dove into enlightening discussions. He really made me feel like I was his rock and would one…

2017 came equipped with copious amounts of razor blades, lemon juice and coconut oil. Here I lay out the highs and band-aids that was and at this moment still is 2017. I started a podcast. Who in 2017 didn’t start a podcast? My dogs have a joint podcast and that’s…

Your favorite writer most likely does one or all of the following: Laughs/cries when subjects hit home Sucks teeth at op/ed mainstays but crack knuckles as they prepare their flame work. Sits unbothered as the words won’t come. They know they will. And if not, today just ain’t the day. Strings together perfect Twitter…

After three years, bruised egos and the death of some situationships, I found this letter I wrote to a front line of a choir. This letter was leaked before I got to deliver it the way I wanted: with petty disregard for feelings. In conclusion, I was blackballed, Monique Lite…