When Brandy and I became physically identifiable as members of an older generation, we started referring to ourselves as “the Aunties.” I’m not sure why that happened, but I do recall one pivotal moment. We were walking down a sidewalk...
It seems we love describing one another by talking about the nature of our hearts. We can be open-hearted, big-hearted, kind-hearted, hard-hearted, warm-hearted, good-hearted, cold-hearted, soft-hearted, whole-hearted, tender-hearted and probably a few more!...
“I do not pretend to understand the moral universe; the arc is a long one, my eye reaches but little ways; I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by the experience of sight; I can divine it by...
Reverend Traci Blackmon (Executive Minister of Justice, UCC) tells a story about an historic, white Methodist church whose members decided to welcome people of African descent. This happened around 1850....
A very old parable, one that goes back to – oh, let’s say around 30 AD – talks about the foolish builder who built his house on sand. The rains poured down and washed his house away. “And mighty was...
On the streets of Nottingham, England, vending machines have been set up to help feed the homeless. The brainchild of a charity called Action Hunger, the system has had such positive results that New York City is planning to try...
Note: For me and for my readers, it is good to pause every so often to take a more personal, less intellectual and philosophical approach to equality. I call these “inside-out” exercises because they draw from deep inside our own...
Fifty years ago, when Martin Luther King, Jr. began to focus on the intersections between racism and poverty, he launched what he called a “Poor People’s Campaign.” Many of the marchers and protesters who had joined his work against racism...
When Hillary Clinton was interviewed for the Humans of New York project, she recalled taking the exam for law school when she was a Harvard student in the late 1960’s. She and a friend were the only females in a...
You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. From Still I Rise by Maya Angelou, 1978...