Fat Black Diva

It's's the story of the dream I've been having.

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Monday’s awfulness highlighted how much faith I have — and how right I am to have that faith — in young black men. This  pic has everything and nothing to do with that. Look at his dimple! Who couldn’t love a boy with a dimple like that? #lovelyface #love #Brooklyn #beautyinblack

Monday’s awfulness highlighted how much faith I have — and how right I am to have that faith — in young black men. This pic has everything and nothing to do with that. Look at his dimple! Who couldn’t love a boy with a dimple like that? #lovelyface #love #Brooklyn #beautyinblack

Filed under lovelyface brooklyn love beautyinblack

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So I took this picture. I was all set to compose another of my mini-stories to accompany it. Then, a few stops after I’d put my phone away, he looked up … and I realized that I know him!  The education program I used to run operated from the upper floor of the church where he is the pastor. So, no stories, but he is looking mighty dapper! #smallworld #Brooklyn

So I took this picture. I was all set to compose another of my mini-stories to accompany it. Then, a few stops after I’d put my phone away, he looked up … and I realized that I know him! The education program I used to run operated from the upper floor of the church where he is the pastor. So, no stories, but he is looking mighty dapper! #smallworld #Brooklyn

Filed under brooklyn smallworld

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Sometimes Saturday afternoons were endless, all about trying to look as if she didn’t care what her plans were for the night, as if she wasn’t nervous sitting alone, as if she had it all together. The phone helped then, gave the illusion of a community that embraced her on the other end of a text, a call, an IM. But Irene was tired. How many more of these Saturdays would there have to be? #Brooklyn #stories

Sometimes Saturday afternoons were endless, all about trying to look as if she didn’t care what her plans were for the night, as if she wasn’t nervous sitting alone, as if she had it all together. The phone helped then, gave the illusion of a community that embraced her on the other end of a text, a call, an IM. But Irene was tired. How many more of these Saturdays would there have to be? #Brooklyn #stories

Filed under brooklyn stories