I was 13 years old.
Dear St. Louis:
I look at you and see the birthplace of my father. Where my grandparents rest. Where my parents met and were eventually joined in union. Continue reading “Dear St. Louis”
Fifty years ago this month, the Civil Rights Act of 1964 passed.
Black American progress and the culture of the youth are often at odds with each other, but what is seen by the majority as a problem might not actually be one.