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Writing that upends, surprises, or jars attracts me. I am reading Audre Lorde’s Sister Outsider, and I just finished Toni Morrison’s Bluest Eye and Colonize This!: Young Women of Color on Today’s Feminism.

I write, because I need to understand. When I work on my craft, I work on myself. Through writing journals, blogs, poetry, memoir, and flash fiction, I come to terms with my inner and outer environments.

I write to help. I write to heal. I write to honor.

I attack apathy, personal and political.

I challenge myself and others to move beyond comfort zones and other narrowing forms of thought.

I critically reconstruct social, political, and cultural issues.

I center the marginal.

I document my communities of the mentally complex, the abused, the poor, the undocumented, the incarcerated, the young, the elderly, the larger, the addicts, the women, the transgendered, the people of color.

I strive to write immediate, active, sensual, honest, and metaphoric pieces.

I struggle to be reborn, to burst, to open.

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