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    Fruit Snacks and Food Deserts

    By Joel Daniels @JoelakaMaG | Illustration by Donte Neal

    I grew up in what Ron Finley would describe as a food desert. Little Debbie cakes, Kennedy Fried Chicken, $1 pizza slices, sour gummy worms, liquor stores, and churches; these are the things that make up my hood, my community. The other day Fordham Rd. had a street fair filled with bouncy castles, food vendors, and a table for the NYPD to set-up shop for community members to air their grievances. Pushing a sleeping toddler in a stroller, I thought of where my neighborhood stood prior to the gentrified air it is beginning to carry.

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    By Prisca Dorcas Mojica Rodriguez @priscadorcas

    I was home, the day after the election. I ran away, essentially.  I ran away from whiteness and straight into my mami’s arms, my papi's smiles, and my sister's kindness. I was hurting from the election, and I found myself in a bubble back home. My sister and I went out to dinner alone one night and we talked about life, love, and laughed so much we cried. I was in her world, locked away from Donald Trump and the suffocating whiteness of Nashville. I enjoyed it and needed it but it was not real, not for me, not anymore. And I wondered...

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