Today has been a day.

I’m writing this from my car because a storm knocked the lights out and my phone needed to charge.

Bernie Sanders quit the presidential race.

It’s Day I Don’t Even Know What of social distancing.

The reason I’m marking the date here on the blog rather than in my journal is because it’s been a full year since I set up this site. And though it’s true I’d been needing to establish an online presence, I chose that day because Twitter swallowed me whole after a misstep I made as Editor-in-Chief of Indiana Review.

The time I said I was going to use to check my politics and study so I can be better for the people I love the most was also partially used to lick my wounds. I abandoned fellowship applications I didn’t believe I deserved, I took a job that paid so little I was in the negatives every month. But yes I also reflected on the decisions I made when I had the power to not say no.

Publishing the word “nigger” in IR felt off to me, honestly. I’m just not the type to use that word or “nigga” or any other variation in mixed company. This my site, my platform; I’ll post what I want. In my books, I’ll write what I want. I’ll send work to a magazine or in for an anthology with “nigga” all up and through it if I trust the hands it’ll end up in. But IR? No.

That’s my fault though. In the two years I was able, I didn’t make IR a magazine that felt safe for my own unfiltered self. And because I didn’t feel safe, I attempted to protect Black folks who didn’t want to be protected. They wanted to see a Black woman published in a respected magazine without censorship. I’m a mother and was a student at the time, depressed, etc. etc. Still, I could’ve done more to honor a position Yusef Komunyakaa once held (he as a professor but again still).

The one fellowship deadline that came before the April 2019 fallout was Emerging Critics. They accepted me and I accepted the opportunity. I’ve been learning about the world of book reviews through virtual seminars about once a month since the summer, and today, April 8, 2020, I was offered a gig writing reviews at Publishers Weekly. Also today I accepted an offer to study in the IU Media School PhD program. And another one: this year is the year I begin to understand money. I speak that in general and professionally. I’m a new member of the Bloomington Arts Council, with particular focus on the grants committee.

I’m climbing out my hole now, y’all. I suspect, some won’t be pleased to see it but I won’t apologize for that. I can’t. There’s much else to do.

My long-term goal is to create a space that supports artists creatively and financially. To emphasize collaboration and the exchange of ideas. To emphasize tenderness, of course, because I’m a quintessential student of Ross Gay.

I swear. I’m here for y’all.

I’ll fuck up again. There’s absolutely no doubt. Get me together, call me out. I ain’t too proud to admit a wrong. Whoever love me though, love me even then—enough to check me gentle too. That’s all I ask.