By Britley Blessitt – Student Journalist 90s girl in a upside down world.Negativity constantly hurledAt my face or race,But we still rise with grace.I love music so turn up the bassSome people walked out my life without a trace.I’ll always say, “I’m black and Proud.”Just because I’m black that doesn’t mean I’m loudI can wear … Continued
By Britley Blessitt – Student Journalist Displeasing elevator music could be heard through my phone on speaker for hours. My fingers had first dialed the student accounting number at 9 a.m. on a Wednesday three weeks before the Spring semester began. The hours-long wait seemed hopeless until I finally heard from a representative. The response … Continued
By Britley Blessitt – Student Journalist I am Black. I am Black and proud. I am a Black woman. Black is bold.Black is strength.Black is sophisticated. Blood, sweat, tears, It took us years to get hereBut we’re still not really here,Our voices still silenced. The flame of oppression still burns. The hate they inflict corrupted our hearts and … Continued
By: Vanessa Reyes – Student Journalist The television’s bright glow hit my face as I watched for the ball to drop in Time Square. This New Year’s Eve did not feel like any other as I was in the living room feeling like I’ve been hit by a bus, distancing myself from my parents who … Continued
Gabriel De Oliveira hits his alarm for the last time and rolls out of bed, fifteen minutes before his first class that begins at ten in the morning. Normally, he would wake up two hours before his class to wash up, eat a quick little breakfast, and make it to the bus stop on time to get on the bus. However, now after he washes up, he just returns to his room and sits at his desk parallel to his bed where his sheets still lay disheveled from his past night’s slumber. He opens his laptop and clicks a link for a zoom meeting where he logs onto his last first day of college.
By: Karoline Gonzalez ~ Student Journalist As if resentful, an unknown force placed me in my mother’s womb Where I gave up earlier than most And with the weight of the world in my chest danced hand in hand with death, A feeble thing grows up to occupy space and find refuge within barres of … Continued
