A motivational sound collage.
A personal essay on Colin Kaepernick, the history of protesting, and the struggle of being a black woman proud to be an American.
Abondance on how riots are a language of their own.
“tell me: for how long will every black poet / have to re-write this poem?”
For issue 6, the female + non-binary creatives of colour in Sula Collective’s staff have come together to create a special edition zine in celebration of Women’s History Month.
Read the digital online copy for free here!
“Black grief reflected through white eyes often looks like violence.”
“Three were injured, including the shooter, and one is in critical condition. More word on the incident at the top of the hour.”
A short list poem by Camille Borders.
“In the book, the scene plays out like déjà vu: / Black body, dead, prostrate and heavy. / Malcolm’s death is every Black man’s death: / early, frequent, expected.”
Supplication Hoods up, heads down, knees bent, hands to ground. This is how I pray now. Tonight, I’m climbing to the highest point in the city. I want to be as close as possible to God tonight, want to see His face while I scream. Hood up, head down, knees bent, hands to ground. I can’t be alone tonight, but I can’t go to the streets. It’s not safe out there, you see, because tonight a Black body’s killer walked home free, was released as not guilty. Cop or civilian, KKK or terrorist. Baltimore, Ferguson, Charleston, Savannah. I don’t know who to call, which Heaven to scream at, which courthouse to burn down: hood up, head down, knees bent, hands to ground. I’ve never been afraid of heights but the twitch of fingers near utility belts makes my body convulse. Someone told me there are more of us in prison than in college—but really, there are more us in coffins than in classrooms. I’m an anomaly, having survived ages thirteen, seventeen, twenty-one. Not dressed in …