Photo: Tyra Banks By Brittney M. Walker We facetime so he can meet my aunt. Most of my family is still in California so meeting everyone has been a digital experience for the most part. “What up auntie?” I introduce him and she says as if she couldn’t stop what was coming out of her mouth, “Does your hair lay down?”…
By Brittney M. Walker We are both in college, on track to be the first in both of our families to graduate. We are both virgins. We are both diligent church-going Christians. We both loved each other, but I never admitted this while we were together. I wanted to wait until we were married to have sex. But it was…
Continued from: Let’s Talk About Rape, Baby By Brittney M. Walker I had been raped. Why did men easily use that word? Why were they so quick to apologize about it? They didn’t do it. But why were women so brash? Why did they seem so dispassionate? Why did many of them blame me for what had happened. “Be careful…
Let’s Talk About Rape, Some More By Brittney M. Walker He raped me. Well, I was under the influence. Plus, I was being extremely flirtatious. But he was sober. Older. Much older. Married. Has three nearly grown kids. I took off my panties in the back seat of the car, though. It was an invitation. An invitation. He’s a man….
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 Sundays I had been purposely…
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