This may be unpopular amongst my progressive, liberal circle, but I believe that Republicans have a right to question the election results.
I say this not because their alleged fraud claims are correct, but because at the core of what makes American democracy so great is the right of the citizenry to question authorities.
I have lived through elections in a nearly a half dozen countries. I watched as election results were announced in Uganda, after the government shut down the internet in the days leading up to the election and closed roads to polling stations in opposition-held areas. …
#runwithmaud is not new.
While it trended its way onto the consciousness of us white folks enough to propel us to run 2.23 miles in solidarity, it is not new.
It is a part of a protracted crisis that black communities face every single day in America — a crisis that white people like me are privileged enough to be able to ignore, until it pops up in our newsfeed and we ever-so-briefly notice.
It is a crisis borne by black mothers who die in childbirth at a rate 2–3 times higher than that of white mothers in America.
(repost from 2012)
I am a do-gooder. A relatively affluent, white American that moved to Uganda to do good, to save lives, to create change.
And I’m not the only one. There are many like me roaming the streets of Uganda. Or better yet, driving in large, white Land Rovers along the streets of Kampala.
We spend our days — sometimes 10, 12 hours — at the office pouring over project proposals, sitting in meetings, evaluating data in our grand heroic effort to create change. …
“You come. Find this girl…find this girl. Your girl is dying, she is dying here in front of me.”
These are the words I heard screaming from Pokira’s phone as she answered a frantic call when I visiting her in one of Uganda’s most remote districts — Kyegegwa — nearly seven years ago.
Pokira, thinking it was her own daughter the woman was calling about, ran, fumbling out the door. The call had come from the head cook at the local high school, just minutes down the road from where we sat.
When she arrived at the school, she saw…
I arrived in Kampala, plopping myself onto Rehema’s couch after a nearly 20-hour journey from West Africa to Uganda.
I laughed at the feeling of familiarity that overwhelmed me — it was both a feeling of being at home around Rehema, despite being thousands of miles away from where I lived — and a feeling of comfort sinking into the brown, worn couch which had graced my own apartment in Kampala for many years before I moved to London and then Sierra Leone. …
We sat and watched as a man accused of sexually assaulting not just one, but three women was nominated to the highest court in the nation. And we asked, what now?
The answer is foremost, do not despair but more importantly, do not stop.
Here’s seven steps we can take now, ensuring that the injustice of the system that failed us is ushered into an era of change.
We all know we should do it, but we often forget to mail our ballot or miss the voting registration deadline. Don’t. Vote. Make it non-negotiable. Register to vote here. Learn…
When Kavanaugh was voted into the Supreme Court, we both breathed a sigh of relief and gasped at the horror that lies ahead. We were not relieved that a man accused of sexual assaulting not just one, but multiple women, would be put on the highest court in the nation — no — we were relieved that the discussions about his assault might end. Because they were discussions about all of our assaults.
One in three women sitting around you have their own story much like Dr. Ford’s — the story of running into a bathroom and locking the door…
[a repost originally written in 2015, inspired by this beautiful piece by Rev. Julie Barnes]
A Letter to My Child;
You are yet unborn, a figment of any wild imagination I might have. But this is to you.
I write this as I sit in Kenya, sipping tea and listening to the sounds of children wailing, mosquitoes buzzing, and a boisterous, cackling laughter. I write this on the eve of the new year, at the dawn of a new beginning, in the period of atonement.
This new year feels of particular importance, somehow. This was the year where at times…
I sit here deeply disappointed as I watch Donald Trump become the President-elect of my country, horrified that a man whose campaign was built on the backs of the most marginalized and at the expense of the country’s most vulnerable will be our future leader.
But I also sit here deeply disappointed in myself for failing to see the underbelly of American society that enabled this to happen. …
Dear Women of America,
You currently represent one of the most influential constituencies in the 2016 United States Presidential Election and can collectively not just influence the vote, but single-handedly determine the outcome of this election — representing what will likely be over 55% of total voters in November. Or as we like to call it, the majority.
Working at the intersection of women’s right, health, and social impact in West Africa.