So it’s not so much that working while naked is a thing I need to do. I’m anemic, so I get cold easily. (I am the person who, immediately after checking into a hotel room, turns the thermostat to 80, leaves and doesn’t come back until the room is sufficiently toasty.) And it doesn’t feel sanitary to sit my bare Black…
Exclusive: Photos of the Los Angeles Clippers Guarding Luka Doncic During Sunday's Overtime Thriller
Here’s some shots of Reggie Jackson contesting Luka’s game-winning step-back.
“The city is dead,” I said, aloud, to no one, while each step I took crashed the same cement I’d fallen in love with. The pizza box I lugged with me—filled, just 32 minutes earlier, with a New York City pizza slice—was empty, except for crumbs. Heh. A metaphor, for the dead city.
In October 1999, singer/songwriter/producer Donnell Jones released his second album, platinum-selling Where I Wanna Be. The first single featuring Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes was a hit—his highest-charting hit, in fact—landing inside the top 10 of Billboard’s pop charts. Interestingly, the first record I remember hearing…
You cannot read Ethan Strauss’s piece on the NBA’s rating problems without a subscription to The Athletic. Fortunately, you do not need to read it to have read it, because his 25-character tweet accurately synopsizes the 2,000 words behind the paywall.
Of the several nits I have to pick with Watchmen—a show I am still infatuated with—the most prominent (and also the pettiest) is that the murderous racists didn’t die violent and painful enough deaths.
I did something recently that I haven’t done in probably 10 years—I made two compact disc (CD) purchases. That’s right, in the year of our lord 2020, I purchased Adriana Evans 1997 self-titled debut album and De La Soul’s Five-Mic classic, 1991’s De La Soul Is Dead. I spent $21 and $25, respectively, of my hard-earned…
Conceding even the tiniest thing to a hateful and violent twerp like our president feels like a total defeat. Unfortunately, I must admit that there are (at least) three zeitgeist-related places that he has “won”—where his influence has been total and, possibly, irreversible.
Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion set the internet on fire with their song and video, “WAP,” which stands for “wet ass p***y.” Well, after probably a million formal and informal takes on the song, the staff at The Root decided to curate a playlist of Raunch-jams for your listening pleasure(s). Shouts out to Cardi and…
The second biggest lie that I allow people who’ve read my book, and who’ve heard me speak about my book, to believe is that I’m brave. “How did you find the courage,” they ask, during Q&As at independent bookstores, and through emails and (now) Zoom talks, “to be so forthcoming and vulnerable about your neuroses and…
God-level MC, hip-hop mainstay and legend, Nasir bin Olu Dara Jones—aka Nas aka Nasty Nas aka Esco aka “N-A-S are the letters that spell, Nas Nas Nas”—released a new Hit-Boy produced record, “Ultra Black,” (and announced a new album, King’s Disease) for our listening pleasure on all streaming platforms. I have 7…
As a child, the word “crazy” bounced around every black space I called home. “Crazy” was a destination and an origin. “Crazy” was at once a pejorative and wholly emblematic of our abundance. I loved the word “crazy.” I used it a lot in my oral communication with folks I loved. I used it to describe folks I despised.…
COVID-19 Made Me a One-Issue Voter: Get the Man Responsible for 165,000 American Deaths the Fuck Out
So I guess there’s no point in belaboring my premise since it’s right there, with a bullhorn, in the title, but I do want to clarify.
I can’t just watch the movie John Q.
It was 3 a.m. in Onikan, a suburb of Lagos. The street below her window was uncharacteristically quiet. In the distance, she could hear the faint thump of a bass-line and the strained, faint chorus of afrobeat. She listened for the shrieks of laughter and enjoyment coming from the building down the road. In the…
Prior to COVID, I’d have all of these speaking gigs and book events all across the country; shit was sweet.
First, oh, the stories you will tell. I awake from a four-hour surgery with an epidural and pain pump full of Fentanyl to sounds of a man dying on the gurney next to me, separated only by a threadbare curtain. Codes blare over the PA system, calling for every available physician to assist while next door, there’s the…
Every now and then you have to reach into your bag for your inner “bad bitch.” Sometimes, that’s what it takes to get the job done. This week’s playlist is chock full of jams to harness the power of that inner “bad bitch.”
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