I live near Oakland's beautiful Lake Merritt, which has been a place of community, after-work sunset walks, fresh air (post-California fires), and self care for me throughout 2020. This image represents the beauty that persists in the darkness, the stillness and rest that exists between action, and continuous self-reflection that is necessary for growth and change.

These are a series of images of my cat, Angel, keeping me company (and sometimes interrupting me) while I work from home. As COVID-19 has greatly limited in-person interaction, 2020 has been a year of finding new ways of staying connected with and appreciating the people and activities most important to me. From joining in late-night Zoom calls with friends and participating in socially-distanced actions to simply spending more time with my cat, I am deeply grateful for the many ways my community has kept me grounded and helped me sustain radical hope throughout this year.

I am from old photo albums, peeling wallpaper, and banged up knees while riding bikes up and down hills, past chain link fences and through alleys.

I am from the smell of Pine Sol and sound of Anita Baker on Sundays, laughter, and freeze tag.

I am from macaroni and cheese, greens, chicken nuggets and fish sticks.

I am from reunions and funerals as family gatherings, “I love you” instead of “Goodbye.”

I am from a lineage of everyday empaths, a host of aunties, uncles, and cousins - extending my family as far as the eye could see.

I am from hot, humid summer nights where the cicadas and frogs sing at night 

I am from a house where my mom would exclaim: “you smell like outside!” after playing in our yard

I am from willow trees of family memories, histories and lineage! With each branch connecting us all 

I am from a loud passionate loving Black family. I am from the protection of my ancestors I am from sunday service and sunday brunch. I am from all of those who have touched my heart for they have made me who I AM.

I am from adobe dust, lost sock piles and wool blankets

I am from the monsoons, tomato vines, and mud.

I am from pun-ah, apple pie and on-eh

I am from what is your name? how are you? And slow down. 

I am from my mother, my father, grandmas and grandpas, aunts and uncles.

I am from. 

I am from a loving home filled with impassioned voices, good food, and filtered air; 

I am from a transitional neighborhood where our home is the border between heavy traffic and bucolic landscaping; 

I am from a family that consumes cultural foods--pozole, rice and beans, tamales, and other foods that support local food systems; 

I’m from a family whose sayings are deeply cultural and often funny, but sometimes bite; and 

I’m deeply impacted by both the strength and dreams of my ancestors, but also the deep commitment to community by social justice warriors. Jeane Gauna, Nilak Butler, Cecil Corbin-Mark...

I am from small soft animals, stainless steel and cast iron pots and pans, a California redwood.

I am from the sound of Amtrak passing by, carried by the wind, leaves falling, the smoke from a neighbor’s BBQ, the sound of Kiki chasing squirrels.

I am from hand made dumplings and double fifth zongzi.

I am from “what is ours is ours.”

I am from turtle shells with intact spines, the birth button of a rattlesnake and a black cast-iron cauldron seasoned with history, turned upside down for unknown safekeeping.  Egyptian tapestries cover my walls while Baron Samedi stands watch in front of my ancestor wall.  I pull black angels for the wisdoms they represent and hold stones for their energy while a figurine of the Black Christ of Portobelo painted in majestic purple oversees my workspace each day, bearing a cross reminding me of something yet realized.  

I am from midnight skies speckled with stars and smoky crisp breezes, where Hunters' moons still receive salutations from both two and four-legged creatures. The forest dressed in Loblolly pines, spiked sweet gum earrings, and pearls of pokeberries stand in quiet repose. The smell of rosemary, mint, and sage do not linger unless caressed as the ground hardens and softens as the seasons manifest.

I am from the chees'n mac, Crisco fried chicken, pickles, okra and green tomatoes, cornbread, and collard green samiches, drop biscuits, frybread, dewberries & blackberries from the riverbanks, gingerbread, pound cake generation.  The smells of pig feet, backbones, turkey necks, snappin' turtle, chitterlings, fried catfish, grease salads made with fatback dressing, creasy, poke salat, and oven crisped groundhog are conjured in vivid memories only.   

I am from a  lineage that speaks in unknown tongues and verses,“Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee;   that poses questions are you hurt, or are you injured with a side-eye and neck cocked to the side with a sly grin.  From those who said, every time your elbow goes up your mouth flies open with intended relish. To think independently, be independent, be still and listen, no one can take your education to wantn' ain't gettin' and you'll be just fine Lord willing and the creek don't rise.

I am from the Hughes, Thompson, Taylor clans now resting in Carolina red clay guarded by Pilot Mountain, descendants from the Smallwoods and the Bonds sleeping in Indian Woods that walked Quitsna landing now walk the living path with me as do the Fraziers and Overbey lines for our cosmic threads continue to spin and intertwine.

I am from intense light, serene wall art, and tech overloads

I am from cop sirens and bird songs with endless green and corner stores 

I am from pizza, mac n cheese, and mediterranean cuisines 

I am from where there’s a will there’s a way, don't stop til u don’t breathe

I am from a plethora of personas and cultures that enrich the soul

I am from construction paper, art supplies, and Clorox wipes. 

I am from llamas and turkey neighbors, pecan tree pollen coating everything in sight, the distant sound of peacocks meowing. 

I am from tri tip and pilaf, eclair cake, and Perry pizzas. 

I am from “sleep makes sleep” and Catholic prayer recitations.

I am from Julie and Eric, the melancholy Danes, and too many names I regret not taking the time to learn.

I am from the land of thousand mountains, frozen rivers whose touch I never felt

I am from a neighborhood filled with alleyways and never-ending sound of children running as their slipper slaps against the monsoon rain.

I am from home where learning how to make dumplings from your elder is passageway to adulthood, I am from home where words like Christmas, thanksgiving are foreign

You will see my resemblance in my momola ( grandma) the way she smiles and her face twitches up, you will my resemblance in my amala ( mother) in her eyes, where I can feel all her pain and love. 

I am cowrie shells, altars and holy water 

I am incense, essential oils and hymns 

I am fresh puff puff, chin chin and everything made with sweetness

I am an embodiment of the Yoruba proverb: a kì í bá Ọlọ́run ṣòwò ká pàdánù (no one trades with God and loses)

I am a descent of Yoruba people, Edo people, blacksmiths, babalawos, nomads and people who fought against colonial rule