by Monica A. Coleman | Jul 2, 2020 | Blog, Monica's Blog, The Beautiful Mind Blog
Choosing favorite books in one’s field is like asking who your favorite friends are. Good books change my perspective and – at times – transform my soul. Still, I’ve put together a short list of books I like to teach over and over again. Sisters in the Wilderness by...
by Monica A. Coleman | Jun 13, 2020 | Blog, Monica's Blog, The Beautiful Mind Blog
No one is coming to save us! We have to save ourselves. Tananarive Due and I are talking about strategies for surviving and thriving during this hectic times. Inspired by the work of Afrofuturist Octavia E. Butler, we talk about our seven step process for shaping...
by Monica A. Coleman | May 3, 2020 | Blog, Monica's Blog, The Beautiful Mind Blog
In national quarantine and sheltering-in-place or is it “safer-at-home,” all I could think about was that we were living in a scene from the late Afrofuturist writer Octavia Butler’s book Parable of the Sower. So I texted my friend, Afrofuturist...
by Monica A. Coleman | Aug 8, 2019 | Blog, Monica's Blog, The Beautiful Mind Blog
I didn’t know I had a lisp. Not until I was 15 and a boy I liked teased me about it. Once he pointed it out, I stopped talking as much. I immediately asked my parents about it. They said they knew it was there, but didn’t think it was a big deal. They thought I would...
by Monica A. Coleman | Apr 1, 2018 | Blog, Monica's Blog, The Beautiful Mind Blog
Remember this day. I told myself to remember this day. This was the day when it all ended. This was the day I was raped. It ended before I had words for it. . My ability to sleep well. My ability to focus. My ability to trust. My ability to pray. My ability to...
by Monica A. Coleman | Aug 2, 2017 | Blog, Monica's Blog, The Beautiful Mind Blog
He called too early in the morning. Every year on my birthday. My father called to tell me happy birthday. And to tell me that he held me first. “We saw that your hair was black. And I held you first.” “I know Daddy.” This year marks ten years since my father died. He...
