The Homeless

Systematic desensitization

Of the human race

Race relations

Makes no sense



When ignorance is potent

What’s more, important

In poor tense


People like, “What dad ever fathered me?”




What did life ever have on me?

We think we’re less crazy

Than the people who talk to themselves

When all the time, we tell ourselves

Reasons why they deserved to be underserved


Like it’s the norm


It’s okay to keep doing the same things as before

Not anymore.


Rites of Passage for People with Passion


Brené Brown wasn’t lying when she said, “When you love something so much, you are willing to eat the shit sandwich that comes with it.”

Basically, she was saying that every profession has a shitty side. If you are truly passionate about whatever it is that you pursue, then you are more than willing to eat the shit sandwich that no one else will. They just aren’t as committed. It’s a dreadful thing for them, but an opportunity to jump at for you.

In lay terms, it’s being happy to be Paris Hilton’s rug that she walks all over –in hopes that Kim Kardashian will be a household name 10 years down the line.

My journey to my dream has been a 10-year shit sandwich in the making.  A triple-decker, overstuffed sandwich that I’ve been all too happy to eat.

They aren’t lying when they say it takes 10 years to master something, from being a celebrity to being a therapist.

This, is my passion.

I have a long way to go still, but I am just now beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. And even though it’s like a grain of salt in the night, being able to see my goals manifesting into reality is so, so rewarding.

I got my first taste of surreal-ness when I was sitting in a Starbucks using the Wi-Fi to apply for graduate school in social work.

I was like, “I’m here. Am I actually doing this?” The fact that I was even going to be seriously considered as a graduate candidate tasted so delicious to me.

And I’m having that same feeling right now. I’ve been so caught up with keeping up –mid-terms, finals, breathing –that I didn’t have a chance to sit back and see what I have become.

All this pressure and I haven’t combusted, so that must mean I’m making diamonds…right?

Today, I realize I am becoming the woman I aspired to be when I was 13-years-old. Today, I am manifesting into the passionate, strong, independent, justice-seeking leader that I looked up to so much.

I looked at my peers around me in my adolescence –Channing, LaRayia and others –and wondered why I was so infatuated with them. I mean, I love women, yes, and these people are beautiful, but there was something more entrancing than that going on. They were inspiring, they were the souls my soul aimed to elevate to (and beyond).

It just never felt right before. When is my time?

I would say to myself, “Amber, you want this so bad but you’re not acting on it, you’re still being shy.”

My body told me that when my time had come it would fall into place so easily.

Graduate school was the lubrication that transitioned me from contemplating to acting.

Now, in the busiest month of February, as I am writing scripts for LGBT awareness events that I’m hosting, pulling together vendors for Domestic Violence workshops and advocating for what I believe in –online, offline, in school, protesting in the streets –I realize…. I am my own inspiration now.

I’m not fully at my goal yet, but I look at me and I make me proud.



Young girl

You were one of my favorites

Ironic because you gave everyone the most trouble

Sweet, innocent and filled with all the impurities of the world at the same time

The definition of an oxymoron

You never bothered to stop, you always wanted more on

How to cover up the scars that life has given you

You covered your scars with more scars

With drugs, alcohol and std’s

In class you got D’s and out of class you got the D

All of this for a pain you were intent on suppressing

You let me know you loved me, but it was a slippery slope and you couldn’t stop

You were like my little sister, I love you a lot

I took you to my family’s house

I cooked your favorite ethnic meals and when you came home high

I just sighed

And took you into my arms

I understood

You’re not too young anymore

You left abruptly

You didn’t even know you were leaving

You were there one day and when I came back to do my work

My untiring work on you, you were gone…

Where are you now?

Lost in the world

Almost 18

What will you do then?

You used to cry day in and day out for my family to adopt you

I wanted so badly to take you in

But once again

you were taken away by the system.

Disposable Children


You were born to mothers who threw you in dumpsters

Like Kaihla did Isaiah

Little seeds planted in concrete, trying so hard to find your way up

At night you stay up laid up

Wondering what you ever did to not be good enough

Uprooted from your soil always having your foundation changed just when you begin to plant your roots

No wonder you were never able to grow

Progress comes slow

Because the nurturing you need is not free

At least not when you’re a child of the county

Your parent figures rely on the figures of their paycheck

And society says it’s your own fault that you’re a wreck

Says that you have no sense of respect,

When no one ever showed you what respect looked like

And it should be something that’s wielded unto you all the more

You, children of the night, have gone through more than any of us can imagine

And we just brush you off in a nonchalant fashion

We could learn a few things from you

Like, how to survive

How to hold your own when really you’re dying inside

It’s not fair; that therapy can’t do anything to solve the life you were born into

It’s not fair that you ALWAYS have the rug pulled from under your feet when you begin to


That word alone, when whispered, during your evaluations feels like an uphill battle

Because no matter how hard you try there’s something else,

The staff has recorded

Something else

The administrator wants you to perfect


Something else your social worker forgot to tell you to do

Haven’t all these people in all these positions got a clue?

You are their work but they know nothing of what it’s like to be you

At 5 o’clock they put you behind them

When you really need someone standing behind you when,

Their off-hours are your peak hours of vulnerability

Hello! We’re all humans.

These children will mess up, just like us-

 Have you ever considered that possibility?!

They’re no more perfect than us

But one slip-up and its back to square one

Why do we hold them to such strict standards we don’t even treat our own like that?

No wonder they feel like there’s no battle to be won

We keep telling them that the end is right around the corner

When their journey has only just begun

These poor tortured souls endure all this

And we wonder why they slit their wrists or turn to drugs so young