Intersections

Let’s talk about a new kind of intersectionality, one that does not demand the capacity for appreciating abstractions, understanding history, or committing to ideologies.

Let’s talk about the shocking yellow of an early spring daffodil, the black-gray pall of a truly pan-pandemic, the specter of an economic meltdown, and the generous kindness of a cobbled-together car parade filing by my front porch.

These intersections cannot be deconstructed, theorized, or ignored. They force us to look life in the eye and reckon our being with nary a polemic. Providence needs not a pen.