Jonita Davis

I think our nonchalance about our own blackness led to the Christmas that Grandma tried and failed to introduce us to Kwanzaa.

No one ever told me that relaxing would be such a hard thing to do.

If I could redo the conversation with her today, I would probably light up right alongside her.

We learned early on that the kids would need some adjustments made to their lives outside of school in order for them to survive the world amongst the neurotypical.

It is one thing to harbor a little mommy guilt as the kids grow older, but it’s another to parent through anxiety — letting fear dictate every decision.

My sister and I aren’t the only people damaged by Christmases past. We're taking back the holiday and building new Christmas memories.

We don't say divorce! I guess, to us, the word “divorce” was that thing we dare not speak of — our Voldermort. It’s not a word to be taken lightly.