Every autumn, the winds begin speaking in another register. Leaves loosen. Branches show their architecture. What once looked full and green begins to reveal what has been holding it all along. I keep thinking about the Monarch Butterfly, its wing … Continue reading The Monarch Knows the Wind
The Crow Sees Me, Embodied Knowing, Sacred Literacy, and Black things taking flight. There is a crow who comes near enough to be noticed while I am sitting and having my morning tea. He is loud. Persistently so. Some mornings … Continue reading The Crow Sees Me
What survives after the fire?What lingers after the systems fall, the voices fade, and the masks are removed? This June, Three-Fifths Magazine explores Afterlife — a powerful examination of memory, legacy, grief, resistance, spirituality, culture, and the haunting realities that … Continue reading The June Theme, Afterlives, developed by Dr. Kelly U Farrow
Her Body Remembers Some histories do not stay in the Smithsonian. They do not remain trapped in old dusty court records, past census lines, outdated policy language, or the brittle pages of a nation’s selective memory. History travels, descends, and … Continue reading The Architecture Of What Remains
I arrived at Three-Fifths Magazine in year five, not at the beginning. I did not walk with this platform through every turn of the last half decade. My byline is new. My eyes are not. What I stepped into was … Continue reading Arrived at Year Five: The Blade Beneath the Costume.
Echoes stretched across the Atlantic and settled as the sounds of the diaspora. Others arrive as posture. As breath. As the way a body remembers before the mind names anything at all. A century ago, a seed was planted and … Continue reading The Mother Codex
I met Martin Luther King Jr. in the fifth grade. He met me on the January 1986 cover of Ebony magazine. “The Living King.” The assignment was simple. Write about someone who inspires you. I chose him, not because I … Continue reading The King and I
Presence is not performance.It is breath and backbone. The low drum beneath our hurried names. While the world strings lights on credit and calls it joy. We light candles for survival. For the mothers who worked doubles. For the grandmothers … Continue reading Presence In the Rhythm Of Our Soul
