All posts filed under: For Readers

Sharing new poem written by Kristin Richardson Jordan

I am a living legacy To my ancestors and family To the loss and recovery Of my own spirit To endless hope In a world of unfilled expectations I am a living legacy To my people and my god To my own integrity That sometimes waffles Inside my own humanity Never perfect I am a living legacy To all my mistakes And my parents’ parents’ parents’ And all their mistakes Translated into lessons learned And I am a living legacy To all their triumphs too To all the traumas overcome The breakdown of ceilings And the building of bridges too Yes I am a living legacy Of what all my parts and paths and pasts Compel me to do Constantly held accountable to my ancestors And what I know to be true I am also a living legacy To poetic lines scribbled on napkins saved into published works That I stumbled on in pre-teen years and began to feel less alone Lines like “still I rise” I am also a living legacy To harder lines …

Proud Of My Black Body

had to share this article… “I’m proud of my body that is subject to ridicule. I am proud of who I am, what I have been through. I am proud of my ancestors who were slaves and now I am their wildest dream….I love my black body. I’m tired of having to explain that pride in my black body is not hatred for any other race. I’m tired of worrying that I may be shot driving to work. I don’t hate police. I don’t hate White people. I don’t hate anyone. But, God, I love me. And I want that to be enough.”

Land of the Free Hypocrisy

What happens when red and white stripes They feel like cold steel prison bars Excerpt of July 4th/American Dream by Kristin Richardson Jordan America is the abusive mother I never should have had Somehow she bore those hours of labor and nursed me so as a child I managed not to die but I still have this suicidal behavior… Excerpt of Mother America by Kristin Richardson Jordan    The great American flag is wrapped and dragged with explosives Compulsive disorder, sons and daughters Barricaded blocks and borders Look at what you taught us! … It’s murder on …. backstreets, Wall Street, corporate offices, banks, employees, and bosses with homicidal thoughts But is America honest, or do we bask in sin?… It’s nasty when You set us up, then roll the dice – then bet us up You overnight the big rifles, then tell FOX to be scared of us Gang members or terrorists, et cetera, et cetera America’s reflection of me, that’s what a mirror does. Excerpt of song XXX by Kendrick Lamar   Credit goes to: Our Kristin …

Stolen Innocence

“Chapter 2 of my book A Lighter Shade of Black is titled, Stolen Innocence. Every day a child’s innocence is stolen by wicked adults seeking to satisfy their distorted pleasures. Not all are brought to justice, like they are in the book.Thus children become perpetrators, manipulative aggressors. We must make sure that laws punish those who rob children of their innocence and psycological, and psyhiciatric help is available for the proper healing of these children. Stolen Innocence should not be ignored.” – Janet E. Williams more at

The Yellow Children of Monticello by Pam Ward      

The Yellow Children of Monticello for my cousins, descendant of Sally Hemmings   Before Roosevelt Way before J.F.K. Before Clinton claimed, “I Did Not Have Sex!” on tv. Before Monica Lewinsky tripped & forgot to wash her dress. Thomas Jefferson was banging out tots like a fiend. Making a banquet out of Sally Hemmings’ body he created more kids than he could track. Jefferson kept his black children under lock & key all while singing “Oh Say Can We See.” All his pickaninnies, tall and skinny looked exactly like him and nobody blinked nobody batted a lash seeing these yellow children of Monticello springing everywhere like weeds. They heard Thomas’ cry for freedom turn into bedroom deceits. They watched their father, a boll weevil, feast on fresh drawls like a cotton gin separating seeds. And when they realized he would never, never, never, never, never, never, never, set them free they read his Declaration of Independence they waited for a harmony of coughs they watched this ‘Apostle of the Constitution” and willed bronchitis to drum …