WHAT SHOULD I BE DOING INSTEAD OF THIS?
 
Home · Articles · Columns · Kathy Y. Wilson
Kathy Y. Wilson
 

#Free? #At Last?

0 Comments · Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Annually, those of us who care about such things beyond the gates of Black History Month either ask ourselves quietly or discuss the question with our intimates: Has “The Dream” been fulfilled and how much farther, Brother Martin, ‘til we reach the promised land here on Earth?  

Orientation

1 Comment · Wednesday, August 21, 2013
In the herd there are so many students who come to college who’ve absolutely no business there; they’re no more prepared for the intellectual rigor, the dicey social matrix and the expectation of talent in their respective disciplines than an average junior high school student, and no one’s had that come-to-Jesus conversation with them until maybe well into their third year.  

Class of '83

0 Comments · Wednesday, August 14, 2013
When that summer was over we got our black asses on the bus. We expected the worst. We rode the bus stiff-backed, ready for all-out race war. We weren’t comforted by our white bus driver’s choice of WEBN on the radio.  

A Lesson in the Lessers

0 Comments · Wednesday, August 7, 2013
 If only politicians were cicadas. At least we’d have a longer cycle of silence before the commencement of incessant droning and that annoying buzzing about. The only difference is cicadas, while butt-ugly, die after they mate.
  

Got Faith? Get Love

0 Comments · Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Will anyone reading this even live long enough to witness the world’s major religions change their closed ranks, homophobic ways and teachings?   

You Better Recognize

1 Comment · Wednesday, July 24, 2013
So I could’ve married my cousin, Marc, when I was 13 in Tennessee and we could now be 35 years into Ohio-based bliss but, so far, I cannot marry my partner anywhere else and legally leave her any of my crap in Ohio? SMH. And this is what the Obergefell/Arthur family is upset about.  

Empty Bedrooms (for Trayvon, for Us)

0 Comments · Wednesday, July 17, 2013
I talked to my kids about Trayvon Martin, the flaws and intricacies of the American judicial system, about racial profiling and about how the smallest of bad choices can keep them from coming home at the end of the day.  

Until It's Time for You to Go

0 Comments · Wednesday, July 10, 2013
We’re all, most of us, anyway, waiting together for 93-year-old Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela to go. But, really? How much can one man bear? How much beating? How much ostracization? How many lies? How much defamation, alienation and starvation?   

Post Pride

4 Comments · Wednesday, July 3, 2013
I have noticed during more than 25 years of paying attention to it that many gays and lesbians of color in this still greatly segregated city further segregate ourselves because sometimes we feel pressure to choose between our selves of color and our same-sex-loving selves.   

In the Land of Cotton

0 Comments · Wednesday, June 26, 2013
 I suspect you will get the full drift of how wrong it’s been to hold that soft spot in your heart for slavery once your endorsements dwindle and your TV appearances are relegated to repeats, if that.   

Aralee Strange: 1944-2013

1 Comment · Wednesday, June 19, 2013
There was this woman with a deep, slow drawl spoken in something between a rasp and a whisper who had a lightning bolt inked high on her right cheekbone not as thuggery, irony or defiance but as a simple, stunning marker adding to the mystique of a woman easily mistaken in her era-defying androgyny for a man.
  

Go Ask Your Father

0 Comments · Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Sixteen months ago in a gated Sanford, Fla., community patrolled by a zealous, jittery and armed volunteer neighborhood watchman who felt threatened by the mere presence of an “unfamiliar” black kid walking alone, 17-year-old Trayvon Martin died on a sidewalk of a single gunshot to the chest.
  

Aunt & Circumstance

0 Comments · Wednesday, June 5, 2013
 And even in the vestiges of his boyhood in his overtures toward independence, he does what all our children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews among him do. He is looking for his family. Even when he is letting go, he is holding on.
  

Refried Beans/Refried Chicken

1 Comment · Wednesday, May 29, 2013
It all started, as it always does, with fried chicken. Offenders reducing a black man’s identity to a deflated stereotype — especially one boiling down to food — have usually felt like the oppressed in their own lives because they are losers on some level; they cannot quite reach that elusive gold ring of accomplishment.   

Sick with This (a Rant in B-Flat)

4 Comments · Wednesday, May 22, 2013
 I’m sick of the Tailhook nature of navigating daily life when people are so blithely rude they let doors slam in the faces of the people behind them, they jostle and slam into others without so much as an “excuse me,” so by the time I retreat back to home base I feel like an abused slab of dough.