There is no single number, no weighted index to explain what it means to have the real possibility of a black president, and while 40% of black children remain below the poverty line and a million black men languish in prison. There is no index, but there is a case study of these irreconcilable developments, a place where the balance sheet of progress and failure is as simple as a zip code. And that place is Atlanta. Full Story »
Posted by Derek Hawkins
It is what it claims to be, a letter from Atlanta, a mysterious place utterly unknown to me, a far-north white small-town boy. Somehow, in a tiny space, Cobb manages to give me a flavor, a whiff, of what it might have been like to be black in Atlanta. He does it by making me look through the milky corneas of an old black woman who lived in Atlanta her whole life. An act of charity, a spark of interest, and an attitude of humility made this remarkable piece possible. Though it certainly could have been longer, its title lends credibility to its length.
Journalism is sometimes expressed or defined simply by what one writes in his or her journal. Some people might use a journal like a twitter account, and others might fill their journal with facts. The only standard for journalism is the quality of the writing, and if the writing is good enough it should be published. Thanks to EbonyJet for publishing this excellent journal entry, and to Derek Hawkins for submitting it.