Last month, Georgia Republican state representatives, still seething after absorbing the ignominious defeat of their preferred presidential and senate candidates, ushered sweeping voting “reforms” through the Georgia legislature. The omnibus reform bill — it contained ninety-eight pages — was signed by Brian Kemp, Georgia’s current Republican governor. Joining Mr. Kemp for the signing were half a dozen white men with masks, staring down at the bill as Kemp signed it into law.

Republican officials, citing the big lie of rigged elections proffered by Donald Trump, have hailed the bill as an important expansion of voter protections and voting rights. But…

Eleven years ago.

I was speeding down the 1–70 thoroughfare, hands squeezing and pulling at the steering wheel as I fled the school from which I’d just been fired. The anguish I felt. It was of the unbearable kind, had me bent over the steering wheel the whole way. After arriving at home, I rushed up the stairs and collapsed onto my queen sized bed.

Hands and legs splayed, I stared up at the ceiling as I contemplated my bleak future. I was still in possession of my teacher’s license, but the school year was already up and running, with…

It should have been just another Saturday morning in November.

I’d drive to my local Grease Monkey Station, check my car in with the technician, and then hand over my cars keys. I’d step into the waiting room and sit in one of the socially distanced chairs, a novel draped over my lap as I devoured words on pages. I’d read and wait for a technician to enter the waiting room to call out the model of my car, announcing its preparedness for the road. But this wasn’t just another November Saturday.

It was November 7, 2021, four days after…

I don’t know if any English-speaking American is capable of pronouncing my name the right way. It’s not the fault of the Americans though, as the majority have not been regularly exposed to west African culture.

My name is Eze Ihenetu by the way, pronounced as (eh-zee) (i-hen-eh-too), meaning the first letter (e) in my forename is short and the second portion(ze) is long. The first letter (i) in my surname is short, the (hen) portion sounds identical to that of the female domestic fowl. The (hen) sound is followed by the(eh)sound, and the (tu) sounds identical to that of…

While sitting for an interview, President Barack Obama, a comic book aficionado, was asked to name his favorite superhero. He responded to the question with a reference to Spiderman and…Conan the Barbarian.

Really? I thought. Conan the Barbarian? Well, to each his own I guess.

I wished that I was the one who’d asked him that question. After he’d have put forth his choices I would have asked, “Do you think you are a superhero?”

Because that what he was for me and millions of other citizens of the world, a real life superhero. Outsized expectations had been placed upon…

When I was in my second year of junior high school I would tip my desk chair until I felt the rail touch the wall, rock back and forth, and then reset the desk chair onto the classroom floor. I would do this in full view of my educators, who never offered to discipline me for this action, so I kept on tipping my chair back until the front two legs were suspended a few feet into the air.

One afternoon in social studies class, while rocking my chair back and forth, I finally lost my balance. My arms and…

It was the middle of October when Emily called, a young, besotted woman intent on venturing outside the country.

“I need an expedited coronavirus result,” she said. “My boyfriend is waiting for me in Peru. He is a really great guy and I haven’t seen him in such a long time.”

My immediate thought: That’s not fair.

Epidemiologists and other health experts had issued warnings against extensive and unnecessary travel for fear of spreading the coronavirus. I’ve heeded the advice of the experts, constricted my travel to encompass driving to my job, exercising at the neighborhood park, and shopping at…

Three months before I was to enroll at Boston University, my father secured a second job driving customers through the Denver International Airport in wheelchairs. “It’s only temporary,” he said one evening during dinner.

Guilt surged through me, as I assumed that he was working the second job to pay for my college education. Grants and loans paid for the majority of my tuition and boarding, but there were still two thousand dollars that would have to be accounted for by my family.

“How long is temporary?” I asked.

“I’m thinking just the summer, but I don’t know,” my father…