You take Kanye, I’ll take…(scholar challenge)

DR. FRANCES CRESS WELSING (March 18, 1935 – January 2, 2016)

Welsing was born Frances Luella Cress in Chicago on March 18, 1935. Her father, Henry N. Cress, was a physician, and her mother, Ida Mae Griffen, was a teacher. In 1957, she earned a B.S. degree at Antioch College and in 1962 received an M.D. at Howard University. In the 1960s, Welsing moved to Washington, D.C. and worked at many hospitals, especially children’s hospitals. While Welsing was an assistant professor at Howard University she published her first body of work, “The Cress Theory of Color-Confrontation”, in 1974. This was an introduction to her thoughts that would be developed in The Isis Papers. Twenty-two years later she released “The Isis Papers”, which is a compilation of essays she has written about global and local race relations.



Auntie (We really just got to know the meaning) By Y. Shabazz










We can’t lose another Auntie

We really just got to know the meaning

Blessed to have them to ourselves even for a moment

A smile, a hug, a gentle kiss on the forehead to remind…

They give us our grandmother in spite of the inevitable

They give us a patient shoulder and a look

…A look…

Just a look…

If you never had that look my words could never fully explain

Our words would wither in vain

Just a rambling explanation of something not to be counted,

Calculated, measured, or even seen

…Its only felt…

It’s a sensation…

Ethereal in its composition

Felt in the parts of us that soak up sweet language like

Cornbread to pot liquor

not so special looking on from the side, but oh so delicious when it gets inside

Special they are….Auntie

That word just feels good on the tongue don’t it?


…say it out loud…

Feels so good don’t it


The word smooth



deep with cool

Dancing rhythms smooth like times long gone

Cultured unique snatching young shy nephews and nieces to engage in the dance

Leaving a little love between every step

Every bop,

Every slide,

Every hop,

Like another momma with a special flavor

Special love,

Special moments.

They are our garments on cold nights and a shield when the sun burns hot


Classic flavors perfection made our souls spoiled with their presence…

Greed alone makes me struggle to let them escape into the heavens

We are indeed

Blessed to have them to ourselves even for a moment

A smile, a hug, a gentle kiss on the forehead to remind…

We can’t lose another Auntie

Because you will live forever in our hearts

And we truthfully really just got to know the meaning.


Dedicated to our angels: Minnie, Dorothy, Mary, and Rowena

The Day

The Warrior's Pen


Quietly mourn the death of yesterday
heart beating, mind racing
Sprinting towards the birth of a new day
Only to ravage it beyond contentment
Bellies full
becoming stuffed wide while never experiencing its full flavor
This is what we have become
This callous
This cold
This empty…
So empty that we witness the birth of a new day
refusing to show grace
refusing to pause…
even for a moment
To savor…

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Wandering after death (By Y. Shabazz)

Never thought I would ask myself in a quiet moment this question
The question that those on the brink only ask in desperation
They ask with fear and hesitation…
Their question only heard by the winds, their own ears, and their hearts
I wonder if those around them felt their contemplation
Or did they continue to apply pressure with ignorance
thinking their contribution to be a pain made ordinary by consistency
…as did I…
I wonder what death would be like?
will I cruise away from this world quietly on a cool breeze
will the pain of separation bring me to my knees
The stress of this world is enough to send the most powerful beings among us
to contemplate their eternal souls
hungrily seeking to satisfy the now,
while the young see themselves absolutely immortal
…as did I…
but age and wisdom clears the fog of ignorance and bliss
and the realization becomes clear
…I was not put here to stay…
And what of those that are left behind?
will they know me the way that I wished
Or will they twist and contort reality creating misguided remembrances of what was
will they wish that I had more time to experience the world
…as did I…