Monica A. Hand

Monica A. Hand is the author of me and Nina, winner of the 2010 Kinereth Gensler Award from Alica James Books. Before moving to Missouri, Hand was a longtime resident of Harlem, where she retired from the U.S. Postal Service.

November 09, 2016

The police killed another black man today. I am furious with emotion; I am burning up inside as if with fever. The doctor tells me to try Prozak, Zoloft, Celexa or any number of other serotonin reuptake inhibitors, but no prescription can put out this fire. The doctor, she tries to promise I will feel better. But I don’t want to feel better. I don’t want to sedate my grief, the loss of the American dream. At sixty-three years old, living in the South, black, queer, and female, with two adult children, two grandchildren, and countless others I care about at risk, I know the dream itself is on fire.

September 22, 2014

A poem from the summer 2014 issue.

Something is burning in the Iowa hills.
As we move down the pewter river,
color of our ashen skin, we see smoke,

September 29, 2014

I was not born in the South but I've known the spirit of inequality all my life.