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Nicole Crawford

Nicole Crawford

Black HistoryCulture

Sankofa

by Nicole Crawford 03/06/2024
written by Nicole Crawford

Sankofa.

The cycle of continuation that is the unifying thread between the past and the future, always
affecting one another. It is important to be unafraid of looking back as we move forward. Coming from the Akan people of Ghana, the wisdom of Sankofa has persevered through the trade of our enslaved ancestors to these lands and has been preserved through generations.


Today, Sankofa reminds us to harness our strength to look into the past to gain wisdom and understanding of our present. With this knowledge, we develop the strength to navigate our futures, changing what appears to be fixed and creating opportunities for healing, growth, and betterment in our communities.


Action is still necessary, given the current and past state of the many systems of violence that have prevented us from experiencing equity within this nation; however, the principle of Sankofa reminds us that revolutionary change is both an internal and external metamorphosis.


To know who we are is to know who and where we have come from. To study our ancestors is to liberate
ourselves from the chains of oppression that have discouraged us from daring to become more than
what these systems of oppression have told us we could be.


Sankofa is the remembrance that allows us to honor our breath, our lives, our hearts, our roots, and future
generations. This is how we experience the fullness of what it means to exist in harmony with one another
and the earth that sustains us.

03/06/2024 0 comments
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Arts & EntertainmentBlack HistoryCulturePoetry

orchestrated chance

by Nicole Crawford 02/23/2024
written by Nicole Crawford

configuration

perspective as reality

chronically aware

consistent contradiction

you shape the world around you.

you are the world around you.

in everything,

i choose what i see

who i am,

where i go

i know you, i’ve been here before.

—

we are an orchestra

battling, colliding

we are harmonious,

a symphony

overlapping,

dancing as waves carry light

swaying as branches of the same tree.

– rawest forms

02/23/2024 0 comments
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Arts & EntertainmentBlack HistoryCulturePoetry

untitled 002 

by Nicole Crawford 02/23/2024
written by Nicole Crawford

i find your theories misaligned

with what you practice and what you preach

like predatory men who write good poetry,

and student activists with telfars

and no smiles for their communities, 

and those kids back at school

who would snicker at the sight of me. 

although we could have never

been cut from the same cloth,

even if they tried to understand me 

(and they didn’t).

you see, the illusions in which you have

chosen to reside and manifest your lies

are killing us slowly.

and the cognitive dissonance

that you work to maintain is proof of

where your priorities have always been: 

in self interest, far from the unity our ancestors need. 

their recollection failed to sense

my father’s rage and my mother’s contempt

grounding myself as i visit my favourite

tree to make sure she hasn’t changed, 

they found me ten toes down

in the soils that made me.

this was the day that i realized

i was named for the victory of my community 

and so to think that no justice and your peace 

could coexist in front of a revolutionary 

tells me all i need to know

about you and your beliefs 

so i stand firmly on what i said 

i find your theories misaligned with

what you practice and what you preach 

like predatory men

who write good poetry

– rawest forms

02/23/2024 0 comments
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Arts & EntertainmentBlack HistoryCulturePoetry

martin’s peace

by Nicole Crawford 02/23/2024
written by Nicole Crawford

the remnants of martins peace died twice in our hands

on pages left unturned   

as love was indeed greater than hate 

but truth was often ignored 

and we marched blindly like prey 

speaking of dreams we had never seen 

letting them fool us into believing

we had a right to white man’s peace.

asking how high when they told us to jump 

thinking the league was gonna save us

some leftovers of this make-believe

we were three times left behind

in chains no one could see. 

encapsulated by shame

and these burdens of knowing 

he led us astray

guilt hardened martin’s heart

long before the bullets took its beat 

he built us burning houses using massa’s tools 

left in calloused hands, then given to you

lesson one 

we must never mistake our oppressors for anything less than our enemies.

lesson two 

fires must be tended to destroy lives 

and your hands are coated in ashes and distant memories.

i see black zombies pouring gasoline

on untamed flames asking why it had to be us again

screaming through deafening blazes 

that their compassion for our excellence

could save us this time if not the next

while they treat us like dogs and we still asking for polite freedoms

with kind smiles filled with cavities

and evidence that we still can’t afford nonviolent dreams

see i tell you those last pages are necessary reads.

lesson three

Martin Luther King said, 

“I fear I am integrating my people into a burning house”

which is why i tell u these truths

lighten burdens of betrayal 

as love is made in the rawness of silence and our desperation to be free

free from contradiction and grounded in reality

so please remember 

martin weeps in his grave when we speak

of nonviolent dreams turned to nightmares

with which he has yet to make peace 

02/23/2024 0 comments
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Arts & EntertainmentBlack HistoryCulturePoetry

seventeen

by Nicole Crawford 02/23/2024
written by Nicole Crawford

seventeen is smashed glass

almost but not quite 

mistakes 

chasing demons accidentally 

crying without sound

a head swirling with shapes and works 

no clarity 

music inside out 

needs ,,, so many needs 

it’s wanting to be close 

disappearing .. distance .. insignificance 

it’s falling from silver linings 

floating through the abyss

losing the ability to force smiles 

fading 

overwhelmed 

silent. 

seventeen is not knowing and never finding out 

glass ceilings 

death and numbness all the same 

laughter is painful 

unachievable

deep breathing 

is suffocating 

seventeen is an enigma 

escaping 

hidden in the depths of most unwanted desires 

being unwanted

sometimes unspoken. 

but seventeen is not final 

it is not the end 

it is not even the beginning 

a mandatory stepping stone 

a fall into grace 

favor ,, love 

it is fear of the unknown 

comfort, belonging 

finding you in me

me in you 

completion 

almost but not quite 

the light but not the end of the tunnel 

a saving grace 

it is you, me 

redefining peace 

everything, nothing 

finite familiarity 

it is the first breath

maybe the last 

it is always and forever 

it is promises broken 

and everything it needs to be, for you, me 

abundance 

change 

clarity 

the ebbs and flows of shallow ocean waters 

serenity 

this is, was, and always will be 

seventeen 

-rawest forms

02/23/2024 0 comments
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CulturePoetry

sage

by Nicole Crawford 02/23/2024
written by Nicole Crawford

i’ve been searching for peace 

like sunday mornings with

oceans on vinyl and between my thighs when i look at you

smoke cleansed and made anew 

repenting for my sins like the son before his father 

i met you on my knees

the only time that it was righteous to beg for mercy 

—–

these days we plead to the holy ghost to make it out alive

left out in the cold

blood stained and bruised

with scars to remind us of who to trust 

and those who would’ve killed us

with praying hands

sage couldn’t make this clean

– rawest forms

02/23/2024 0 comments
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Arts & EntertainmentBlack HistoryCultureOpinion

Who Are We?

by Nicole Crawford 02/02/2024
written by Nicole Crawford

When asked who we are, as writers, creators, photographers, organizers, lovers, and members of this community, we turn back to you and say, “We are but your mere reflections”.

This is a love letter to the pan-Afrikan Diasporic community that we serve.

Thank you, for believing in us, for reading our work, for critiquing and building and grieving with us. Our writing is nothing without you and your perspectives. We have released our first physical magazine of the school year, the Fall ’23 print of NOMMO, the 55th Anniversary Edition of the legacies we humbly attempt to carry, but one thing has become overwhelmingly clear in this process, without your perspectives, without the diverse presence of the Afrikan mind within our pages, our magazine will cease to hold its meaning. So, we thank you for trusting us to share your perspectives, to honor you, to challenge you, to reflect you on our pages. We hope to be given the opportunity to share more of your stories in our magazine in the nearest of futures.

Until then, know that you are so deeply loved and appreciated by us all. Keep shining, keep expanding, keep growing, and building the world in which our future generations will live. We love you all dearly.

All Power to the People,

NOMMO Newsmagazine Team

02/02/2024 0 comments
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CulturePoetry

on faith and contradiction 

by Nicole Crawford 02/02/2024
written by Nicole Crawford

i understood the true meaning of contradiction for the first time in church 

learning of my love for music but never the message that followed, although we stayed anyway, always long past our welcome 

we were walking contraventions like the black boy genius who lived anyway 

despite the horror, unable to do well in school because trauma speaks clearly 

whispers escaping me, down on two knees  

pleading for mercy like the blessings bestowed on those who can afford to eat clean 

we spent our summer nights dancing under the stars because the ancestors taught us how to move when the sun goes down

it was only in the comfort of absolute silence that it was revealed that needles created the wounds we had seen on the souls of those who had been left behind 

and these scars told of the many nightmares that create headless wolves who still manage to howl at the moon

i understood the true meaning of contradiction for the first time in church 

learning of my love for music but never the message that followed, although we stayed anyway, always long past our welcome 

we were walking contraventions like the black boy genius who lived anyway 

despite the horror, unable to do well in school because trauma speaks clearly 

whispers escaping me, down on two knees  

pleading for mercy like the blessings bestowed on those who can afford to eat clean 

we spent our summer nights dancing under the stars because the ancestors taught us how to move when the sun goes down

it was only in the comfort of absolute silence that it was revealed that needles created the wounds we had seen on the souls of those who had been left behind 

and these scars told of the many nightmares that create headless wolves who still manage to howl at the moon

02/02/2024 0 comments
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