Wash Day, by Clementine Hunter, 1971 (From the collection of DuSable Museum of African American History). Credit: Google Arts and Culture.

“I just get it in my mind and I just go ahead and paint but I can’t look at nothing and paint. No trees, no nothing. I just make my own tree in my mind, that’s the way I paint.”

These were the words of my great-great grandmother, Clementine Hunter…

Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash

Yesterday, we sat in gaming circles, passing controllers to the next set of opponents. Leaning towards the television in suspense, we wondered, who would win the game that night. Who would win at the game called life?

Yesterday, we were invincible. We drank cheap alcohol in the backyard, dancing around…

We are the three. The first afraid, the second mysterious, the third courageous. We sit around the campfire in the woods. This six-foot fire keeps the dark night alive. It’s all we have, though invisible to the outside world.

One spoke of wars with men, wars in fields, and wars…

Princella Talley

Curated on Medium. Published by GEN, Zora and Blank Page. Public Voices fellow of the OpEd Project and the Yale Program on Climate Change Communication.

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