By Devon Mac The Black church anchors much of my childhood and adolescence. It was my first experience of nurture and care outside of my family. Where mint candies were sweet gifts of love from older ladies in stockings and knee-length skirts. Where I nervously sang my first solo in the children’s choir. Where I …
By Brittney M. Walker The deacons are passing around Communion cups, the prepackaged ones with the non-alcoholic wine shots and Styrofoam crackers attached to the top protected with a cellophane wrapping. I am sweating a little in my armpits, nervous about what she’ll say when she notices that I don’t take one. For several Communion …
