IT IS 1968 and I am 24 years old. My name is Sam Kayama. I was born in the American South in Greenville, Mississippi, and studied U.S. history in college, focusing on the events of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
Happy 18th birthday! I wish I could celebrate with you — can you believe that it's been an entire decade since I've last seen you?
I LOVE MY CHURCH. This church is perfect. I don't know why anyone would want to leave.
I WAS ALONE in my dorm near the beginning of senior year when I found out. My friend called me while I was working on a paper.
I AM A 29-YEAR-OLD KOREAN FEMALE ALONG SEEKING A PASTORAL POSITION, PREFERABLY AT A SEMI-CHARISMATIC CHURCH WITH A FOCUS ON SOCIAL INJUSTICE AND DISCIPLESHIP. I should mention — I don't have an M.Div degree.
"Why was he in a place like that?" Mom nearly shouted into the phone. Mom hung up the phone and returned to the dinner table. "That was your Aunt Lily. Cousin Vincent is in the hospital now. Very badly beaten. In a coma. Two men were arrested. They were white."
I HAVEN'T RECEIVED AN A SINCE I WAS 13 YEARS OLD.