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to the editors of ms magazine photo of page 147

to the editors of ms magazine photo of page 148

to the editors of ms magazine photo of page 147
to the editors of ms magazine photo of page 147

to the editors of ms magazine photo of page 147

 

December #4


My friends don’t want me to be stressed out by the violence, caused by drugs, that is occurring in Mexico, and the attempts of the government to expose and bring to justice those who are harming Mexican society so grievously. When we walk along the streets in Mexico City, with its ubiquitous fountains and wonderful art, a city I like a lot, though… Continue reading

December #3


As the hornmigas appear to be winning this year, I have had to take other measures. Neither Sweet Heart nor I wish to be without our own patch of collards, no matter where we are! So, we went with friends to visit a small family farm near Villa (named for Pancho) and asked if, in exchange for a financial offering, I might create… Continue reading

December #2


Facing La Madre, the fountain.

Meditation. Sweeping. Making and drinking tea. Speaking Spanish with Manuel, whom I have named, to myself, Wise Heart. Because he is one of the wisest people I know.

Yesterday a beautiful black or dark brown snake came into the doorway. I called Sweet Heart, my partner in these adventures, who gently picked it up and placed it back… Continue reading

December #1

Today, a few hours before sunset, I went with friends to place sixty-four tiny turtles back into the ocean. They had come ashore months before as embryos in their mothers’ bodies. The mothers had laid the soft, leathery, eggs in deep, under-sand nests, covered them carefully, and left them to hatch, before returning to the ocean’s depths. My sweetheart and I had walked… Continue reading


An introduction to
All Things Censored, by Mumia Abu Jamal

by Alice Walker


“This is why we became soldiers. This is why we remain soldiers. Because we want no more death and trickery for our people, because we want no more forgetting. The mountain told us to take up arms so we would have a voice. It told us to cover our faces so we… Continue reading

What I remember most about being shot is how quick it was. Like a streak of lightening, searing my right eye. One second I was an intense, whole, and scrappy eight year old, the next I was down on the tin roof of our makeshift garage writhing in unfathomable pain, a victim of my brother’s pellet gun, needing to be led off the roof by… Continue reading

 
You have no idea, really, of how profound this moment is for us. Us being the black people of the Southern United States. You think you know, because you are thoughtful, and you have studied our history. But seeing you delivering the torch so many others carried, year after year, decade after decade, century after century, only to be brought down before igniting the… Continue reading


Election Day, November 4, 2008
By Alice Walker


Finally it is here, November 4th, election morning. This election will change the face of the planet, if Barack Obama wins the presidency. All last week I was thinking of my father, and of Christmas. When I was a child Christmas was the most exciting event of the year, and that is what these last weeks have… Continue reading


Marrying Good Men
By Alice Walker


A month ago, I married two good men. To each other. You can imagine how this must have shocked my grandparents, with whom I continue to have a close relationship, though they died half a century ago. Two good white men, at that. Which must have made my grandparents, and parents, also deceased, incredulous, to say the least. In… Continue reading

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