Dear Mama: An Open Letter from a Prodigal Son

Dear Mama, This may seem a bit unconventional, and it may be a bit difficult to understand (both why I did this and the words I’m writing), but I guess the time came where I had to get some things off of my mind. I’m in my last year of college, and by this time next year, 7 days after my 22nd birthday, I may no longer be in your household, under your guidance and protection, eating your pupusas and pan con frijoles, or having to beg you for money. I also won’t be disregarding your requests to clean the kitchen, ignoring your reprimands until Pops comes in and demands I listen, or forgetting to call because I’m too busy getting drunk with friends and trying to get into trouble. I’m writing this to you because I owe you an apology. [excerpt

I\u27ve Seen the Promised Land: A Letter to Amelia Boynton Robinson

You asked if I had any thoughts or comments at the end of our visit, and I stood and said nothing. I opened my mouth, but instead of giving you words my throat was sealed by a dam of speechlessness while my eyes wept out all the emotions and heartache that I wanted to share with you. The others in my group were able to express their admiration, so I wanted to do the same. [excerpt

Fearless: Mauricio Novoa

This week, we acknowledge Mauricio Novoa ‘14 as a fearless advocate of social justice through his use of the power of words. Mauricio, an English major with a writing concentration, keeps a personal blog called Greasy Frijoles where he has been posting original poems since January 2012. Aside from being a very talented writer, Mauricio writes in various styles and on a number of topics. Many of his pieces confront racism and classism head on. [excerpt

Brown Eyes, Brown Mind: What We Learn From What We See

My summer days aren’t spent in a house on the beach or travelling to different states or countries with my family or friends, forgetting about the worries of the rest of the year and wondering what could be better than life under the sun. They are spent in a school building, the first place my younger self would have been eager to escape during off time. This is the second summer I am working at the LIU Migrant Education Summer School of Excellence. Unlike normal summer school, which usually consists of remedial classes for students who can’t seem to get a grip on their multiplication tables or skipped class one too many days, the Migrant Ed summer session provides a quality and fun educational experience to mostly Latino students whose education is often interrupted as their parents move frequently to maintain work in the agricultural sector. [excerpt

Until the Cops Come Knocking

“Fuck the police coming straight from the underground/ A young nigga got it bad ‘cause I’m brown/ And not the other color so police think/ They have the authority to kill a minority” – Ice Cube, “Fuck Tha Police” At some point in our lives, we have all walked down a street for some minute errand, and a few of those times we may have crossed paths with men in uniform patrolling the streets. Some who cross them may not think anything of it, but for others, they feel their eyes follow every step they take and distaste is exchanged in the stares they give each other. [excerpt

Mauricio Novoa, Class of 2014

In the current issue of Next Page, Mauricio Novoa, Class of 2014 and winner of the Silent Leader Award, tells us which authors‘ discourse on race has inspired him and what poet Marianne Moore has taught him about writing

Ashes

There’s silence as everybody waits to hear what we already know is coming,ears fixated on Robert McCulloch with hands over mouths,and our fears are validated. [excerpt

Don\u27t Shoot

It always amazes me how some people Seem to be experts in fields they’ve never seen, Know the right directions on paths they’ve never walked, And know people they seldom acknowledge as such [excerpt

Latin-America

A poem describing the Prince George\u27s County and Montgomery County Latin American communities in Maryland