Coffee House Writers

Top Menu

Main Menu

  • Home
  • Article Categories
    • Creativity
    • Culture
    • Design
    • Family
    • Fashion
    • Fiction
    • Food
    • Environment
    • Health
    • Home
    • Lifestyle
    • Memories
    • Nonfiction
    • Poetry
    • Politics
    • Relationships
    • Sports
    • Style
    • Technology
    • Travel
  • About Us
    • Our Story
    • Our Founder
  • Meet Our Admin
    • Chief Editors
    • Editors
    • Poetry Editors
    • Advertising Team
    • Recruiting Team
  • Testimonials
  • Apply
  • Login

logo

Coffee House Writers

  • Home
  • Article Categories
    • Creativity
    • Culture
    • Design
    • Family
    • Fashion
    • Fiction
    • Food
    • Environment
    • Health
    • Home
    • Lifestyle
    • Memories
    • Nonfiction
    • Poetry
    • Politics
    • Relationships
    • Sports
    • Style
    • Technology
    • Travel
  • About Us
    • Our Story
    • Our Founder
  • Meet Our Admin
    • Chief Editors
    • Editors
    • Poetry Editors
    • Advertising Team
    • Recruiting Team
  • Testimonials
  • Apply
  • Login
  • Self Allegiance

  • Abstract

  • What Comes Down the Chute

  • Magical Convergences

  • En Medias Res

  • September

  • Back Roads

  • Find Your Passion and do it with Desire and Purpose

  • Turning Forty

  • Sick at Netherfield

  • I’ll Pull One

  • A Piece Of Deadwood

  • The Island Flamingo: Chapter 17

  • Perils of Gaming

  • Paradise Falls: Chapter 8

  • Autumn Whispers

  • The Red Maiden, Part Twenty

  • The Witching Hour

  • Getting Away with Murder

  • The Inhabitants

  • All the Books

  • The Vampire of Longbourn

  • Cause of Death

  • An Ode to Swedish Metal

  • Éowyn, Queen of Earth

  • Reading Values

  • Autumn, Halloween’s Escort

  • The Thing About Football

  • Score Success for Two

  • The Island Flamingo: Chapter 16

EnvironmentPoliticsCultureRelationshipsMemoriesNonfiction
Home›Environment›A Letter To Ishmael

A Letter To Ishmael

By Beatrice Lane
August 20, 2020
1303
0
Share:
army toys
Photo courtesy of icon0 of Pexels

Dear Ishmael,

You probably don’t remember me. The first time we met it was 2011. We were two of the ten black students at the Southern Christian Training School. Although everyone was taught theology, your major area of study was psychology. You wanted to understand people.

You invited yourself to walk with me to and from classes. If ever you caught me sitting alone, you’d sit with me. I was shy and kept to myself, so you did all the talking. I don’t know if you could tell, but I listened. You were, and I hope that you still are an interesting person.

You thought about things, the way I thought about things, the way I still think about things. You felt that the world needed to be saved. You thought that namely, the African American community needed a leader because we were and we still are lost. You spoke of our strength, our power, our potential to be so much more than rappers and ballplayers, not that there is anything wrong with that.

I didn’t say it then, but I agreed with you. I still agree with you.

Ever since I was sixteen, I’ve had this dream to see our people united. By the time you met me, I’d had one baby and was pregnant with another. At that time, I had traded in my radical jeans for an apron. I ended up leaving school to work full time to take care of the babies I’d had. I didn’t see you again until 2015.

I was sitting in Algebra class at the community college. I sat at the back of the room and listened to the professor call our names from the roster. Then I heard her say your name, “Ishmael.” I looked around and there you were, sitting up front, tall, proud, strong. You answered “present” in your soft, baritone voice. It took all of my self-control not to get up and run to you. I wanted to tell you how much I believed in you, how much I supported you. I made plans to approach you after class.

When the bell rang, you got up and exited the class. I tried to catch up with you, really, I did. But there were so many people in the hall that I lost you. The next time that class was in session, you weren’t there. I heard the professor say something under her breath about your transfer when she accidentally called your name from the roster. I’d lost you for the second time.

Now that a pandemic has come and stayed, now that the deaths of black men and women have once again caught the attention of the world, now that our people have become divided on what we want…I wonder what you are doing, if you are doing anything. I want to tell you that we need you. It is your time to lead.

Lead me, Ishmael. I will follow.

Sincerely,

Your Hope for the Future

TagsCOVID-19letterLeadershipsupportracial injustice
Previous Article

As Evil Rises

Next Article

Shadowfield Chronicles Part 6: Preparations

0
Shares
  • 0
  • +
  • 0
  • 0
  • 0
  • 0

Beatrice Lane

Related articles More from author

  • RelationshipsMemoriesEnvironmentHomeHealthCultureLifestyleNonfictionCreativityFamily

    She’s Mine: Eight Lessons About Alzheimer’s

    October 5, 2020
    By Shelley Estes-Loy
  • CreativityPoetry

    Personalities

    July 27, 2020
    By Lindsey Taylor
  • EnvironmentCultureLifestyleNonfictionMemories

    Traditions Aren’t Only For Holidays

    December 21, 2020
    By Stephanie Wyatt
  • NonfictionCreativityFamilyRelationshipsFictionPoetryMemoriesHomeCulture

    The Road My Father Walked

    May 4, 2020
    By Beatrice Lane
  • Bathroom
    CultureNonfictionHomeEnvironmentEntertainmentHealthLifestyle

    Why The Shower Is My Safe Space Right Now

    March 30, 2020
    By Adele Z.
  • PoliticsEnvironmentCultureHealthNonfictionMediaHomeLifestyle

    Coronavirus Chaos

    March 16, 2020
    By Lisa Post

Leave a reply Cancel reply

You may be interested

  • Say, I Will Do It!
    CultureFamilyRelationships

    Faith-Speaking

  • forest photo
    CreativityFictionEntertainment

    The Enchanted Press: Crime Takes Root In The Enchanted Forest Part 3

  • HealthRelationshipsPoetryMemoriesEnvironment

    Fall Deconstructed

Timeline

  • September 25, 2023

    Self Allegiance

  • September 25, 2023

    Abstract

  • September 25, 2023

    What Comes Down the Chute

  • September 25, 2023

    Magical Convergences

  • September 25, 2023

    En Medias Res

Latest Comments

  • A Piece of Deadwood, is in this Week’s Coffee House Writers Magazine – Ivor.Plumber/Poet
    on
    September 18, 2023
    […] Hello dear readers and followers, I am now writing for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on ...

    A Piece Of Deadwood

  • Cast In Marble (is up at Coffee House Writers Magazine) – Ivor.Plumber/Poet
    on
    September 8, 2023
    […] Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House ...

    Cast In Marble

  • In This Limbo, (at Coffee House Writers) – Ivor.Plumber/Poet
    on
    September 8, 2023
    […] https://coffeehousewriters.com/in-this-limbo/ […]

    In This Limbo

  • A Day At The Race, (is up at Coffee House Writers Magazine) – Ivor.Plumber/Poet
    on
    September 8, 2023
    […] Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House ...

    A Day At The Races

  • A Welcoming Roar, is up at Coffee House Writers Magazine – Ivor.Plumber/Poet
    on
    September 6, 2023
    […] Hello dear readers and followers, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a ...

    A Welcoming Roar

Find us on Facebook

About us

  • coffeehousewriters3@gmail.com

Follow us

© Copyright 2018-2023 Coffee House Writers. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s administrator and owner is strictly prohibited.