In Memory of Ms Gloria Jean Watkins aka bell hooks

I’m so sad to be doing this again. Again, and again. I know that death happens, but in a country that is always trying to separate us from our humanity, Black death always feels personal. This is probably because we resist by surviving. We resist by loving unabashedly, laughing at death, dancing when we’re supposed to be crying, crying when we’re supposed to be dancing, mourning loudly over beats…