I don’t know that there’s been a time in my life when there was not a genocide happening,” Donika Kelly tells me, her deep voice, redolent of her youth in Arkansas, flattened by grief. Or, no, not grief. Despondency. {read}
I don’t know that there’s been a time in my life when there was not a genocide happening,” Donika Kelly tells me, her deep voice, redolent of her youth in Arkansas, flattened by grief. Or, no, not grief. Despondency. {read}