What in the world are we going to tell ourselves about this time? What are we going to tell our kids? Is this the first time your beloved scribe has ever asked this question?

It’s amazing how fast things can change, even for those who’d like to think they saw a lot of this coming. The most terrifying thing was watching it all unfold in real time, the slow creeping erosion of not only institutional norms but norms of humanity. It’s the departure from institutional norms that first jarred me, a once third grade kid who learned all the presidents…

Live from the Reopened States and First World Countries Exposition in Atlanta, Georgia

June 21, in the Year of Our Lord Twenty Twenty

Submitted by Mr. Booker T. Washington IV., student journalist

It all started with a probe, jammed so far up my nose I saw myself born again. But the rapid testing was indeed swift, and I was given the all clear to join my colleagues in the main auditorium. I didn’t mind bowing to my friend Carnegie, as I plumped down beside him in this brave new world. As for DuBois, who sat on the other side of…

When I talk about my time in Paris, sometimes I mention a funny thing that happened one day at Parc Montsouris in the 14th, where I used to hoop every day after class. On another humid July afternoon, a bunch of nebbish park officials stormed the court and told us game over. A thunderstorm was brewing and out of caution the park was to be closed for the rest of the day.

I was incensed. For one, I had finally mastered the double rim and was looking like a young Steph. Also, I pride myself on knowing too much about…

My eyes have been fixed on Ferguson and I haven’t even turned on the television once. No, twitter has been my eyes and ears, a social media outlet that I didn’t even belong to a year ago. I tossed it aside, skeptical that people would want to read updates about what kind of cheese I would be putting on my sandwich. Little did I know journalists en route to Ferguson’s jail for simply filming would use their one and only phone call to tweet the truth.

I’ve been reading and writing my way through the past few days — message…

An essay about New York, LA & Identity

I’ve been going about this the wrong way. I moved, but never came back long enough to see how far I’ve come. In 2005 when I was 17, I left New York City for California and have only been home once or twice a year ever since. Usually my trips are short and sweet, long enough to catch up with my closest friends and family, but that’s about it. I haven’t been in the city long enough to be pissed off at it. I haven’t in the city long enough to be in awe of it either. Mostly, my…

Ade D. Adeniji

Was gluten free for a while but no longer. adeadeniji.com

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