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Kaleidoscopic days, kinda tropic daze

Life is cray. But, that’s for another day. The past week or so has been a mix of emotions, epiphanies, enlightenment and (prayers for) patience.

I interviewed some HBCU affiliates about their perspectives on Super Tuesday’s results, and on black institutions’ power to shape political identity. Here’s the story.

All manners of political mayhem continue.

Whether daily organizational or individual politics, smear campaigns against the president, or attacks on women’s rights, the longer my eyes remain open, the more apparent bureaucracy becomes.

Systemic rights (or the lack thereof) pervade personal dynamics, contribute to norms, and cause discrepancies.

Being a recent grad navigating the terrain toward my goals, running into and communicating with my peers, highlights nature and nurture effects on people’s lives. It is not uncommon for people who previously shared physical space to have memories in common, and little else.

Life has a way of positioning us where we are supposed to be. So what seems ideal for one might not work for someone else. Such is diversity. Such is humanity.

But, back to president Barack Obama.

To his critics, he does everything wrong. And while we all fall short of the glory, and more concerted efforts could be made to recognize and improve conditions for people in poverty, some people, institutions and groups do not want to recognize any progress.

That is interesting. I can remain on my parent’s insurance as a grownup because of policies from his administration. College is not touted as this elitist experience only afforded to babies born with stacks on stacks to the side for them to find themselves as 18 year olds.

Those two things are profoundly important as a Millennial who seeks higher education opportunities while aspiring for the career longevity I need to attain and sustain a certain quality of life.

Then there’s the politicization of wombs and bedrooms. If I had a freckle for every off color comment of judgment about someone else’s right to exercise his or her (And it’s usually her.) autonomy over one’s body, I would be a Cheetah Girl. No Disney.

Is it wrong that current events remind me of one of my favorite sections in Michael Jackson Cirque du Soleil (which my mom took my sister and me to see last week)? Forgot how much I love this song and video. The king’s message remains eerily relevant, y’all.

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