Faye McCray

He said he loved being black.  His voice was barely a whisper above the soft sound of the tangerine comb gliding its way through his curls.  His brother, my littlest, was fiddling with my contact case, turning it upside down and spinning it against the ball of his fingertips. For a moment, I forgot what I…

Five by Faye McCray   I am in the dirt this Wednesday. My hair is sprouting leaves. My fingers are burrowed and moistening. Mud coats my knees.   I am digging to hear you plainly again I last heard you five years ago I know if I dig deep enough,   I will still hear…

My baby boy is in love. Well, not quite. My four year old has this deeply complicated relationship with another four year old.  She rubbed his back the first day of preschool when he cried in my arms about leaving me for the first time.  Then she gave him a lollipop (and “No’buddy else, Mommy”) just because…

I can’t believe I have let a whole month pass since I’ve reached out! If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, you know I’m alive.  So, that’s good.  However, I’ve neglected this here writing space for the whole month of September.  I haven’t been hibernating (though forced exile and sleep sounds reaaaally good right…

The walls in my bedroom are ivory.  A rather plain ivory but it ricochets sunlight from our window and captures shadows from the large oak trees behind our house.  In the morning, while my husband is still sleeping, I like to pull our fabric blinds all the way open, lie back down and be consumed by the light.  I watch…

Response to Kimberly Foster’s Why I Will Not March for Eric Garner Last week, shielded behind the numbness of my computer screen, I, too, watched Eric Garner take his last breath.  I watched a large, vibrant man’s resolve, self-worth and basic human right to stand up for himself squeezed out of his body in a matter of minutes.  I watched him…