Reflecting back over Edwidge Danticat’s nonfiction, Renee H. Shea finds much to be grateful for in Danticat’s extension of her personal stories into political and social issues and, ultimately, providing the solace of words through life and loss.
Marie Casimir, lecturer of African and African diaspora dance in the Clara Luper African & African American Studies Department at OU, on creating a dance in response to Edwidge Danticat's Women Like Us.
Throughout its 2,500-year history, irrespective of whether it was a Carthaginian colony, a Roman provincial capital, a Portuguese colony, an English naval outpost, or a Moroccan fishing port, Tangiers has always considered itself a transit nexus. Yet some arrive, never to leave.
In this story from Asja Bakić’s debut collection, Mars, two women exist in a dangerous symbiosis.
In his bildungsroman, the “People’s Poet of Azerbaijan” describes a time when “all the world smelled of bread.
A nine-year-old wonders whether her story of a publicly shamed elephant is responsible for her immigrant mother’s mysterious condition.
Poet, playwright, and journalist Nariman Hasanzade was born in rural Azerbaijan in 1931. His works address love, Azerbaijani history, folk traditions, the roles of women in society, and the natural world.
Born in Enugu, Nigeria, and now dividing his time between Lagos and Berlin, Emeka Ogboh is an artist exploring migration, globalization, and colonialization through sound and food. He is co-founder of the Video Art Network Lagos and in 2016 received the Bottcherstraße Prize in Bremen.
Grace Chia discusses her home city, Singapore, including how now, in her own work, she is able to write with a different perspective, escaping its stranglehold and entering rapidly, much like Neo in The Matrix.
“We are molasses, we are bagasse / my African brother descended from slaves / our skin is the trace / like yours, of the same dark race.”
“[I]n falcons with outstretched / wings, built brick by brick / flight / abandoned, vanished / in unpredictable encounters...”
“You learn, day one – all of five years old / and already told you are cumbersome – / to dance against the shadows, / between the cracks where mildew grows.”