Shownotes Transcript
Snap Studios. Snap Nation, have we got a treat for you. Today, I get to hand over the hosting rings to my dear friend, star of stage and screen, Oscar winner Lupita Nyong'o. I know, I know, a real life A-lister right here on Snap. Can you believe it? Sensitive listeners are advised. Lupita Nyong'o, the show begins.
It's yours.
I'm Lupita Nyong'o, and this is Mind Your Own. So we're going to switch things up a little.
I heard the wildest story a while back when I was with my sister Fiona. We were hanging out with my cousins. I'm Kit. I'm the eldest. I have a mini parent relationship with these two where they think I'm their mother and I'm constantly reminding them that I'm not. I'm Tawi. That is not true. I'm the middle child.
Okay, I'm Mitch. I'm the youngest and I'm their unpaid help. Yeah, Mitch, that's unnecessary. That is dirty laundry. And you owe us anyway. We changed your diaper. We did. Kit, Tawi and Mitch are our first cousins. And the story was so good. I just knew I had to share it with you guys. So I brought Fiona into the studio to help me tell it.
Yes.
And it's always like, who's going to turn off the lights? So it just made me think, yeah, if turning off the lights is hard, what's anything to you? Like when you say you do anything for me as your sister. So I called them up and here's a story as heard afresh from Kit, Tawi and Mitch. Okay, go ahead.
So our paternal first cousin lost her husband. And we were all going to her village, like the village home, for a funeral. So it was a big exodus, everybody out of Nairobi heading there. I left my children at home because...
When my husband was here, he wasn't traveling for the funeral. We didn't know where we were going. We had never been there. We didn't know the sleeping situation. So I said, okay, fine. You stay with the children and I don't have to carry the little one. He was a little under one. He's not exclusively breastfeeding anymore. He eats solid food, stuff like that. So it wasn't a thing that we were doing all the time, like when he was a baby. I didn't carry a pump. I didn't think I needed it.
We all piled into the car and it's a lot. Wow, the donkey is so cute. Can we stop and kiss it? And these guys are always hating on my music choices. They're like, tell me we don't want to listen to your white music. I don't know if I can say that. Sometimes we play Would You Rather? And then we debate about it for the next 58 kilometers. And that's when I started to feel a headache. And I thought it was because I was driving the whole time.
When she got the headache, she was like, "Oh yeah, I have a headache. Can you drive?" So I took over the driving. By that time, it was still quite a ways. Maybe two, two and a half hours, not so far. But then the headache then now moved over to my shoulders. So Mitch was sitting in the back and she was trying to massage my shoulders. I took two painkillers, like really strong ones, Maramoja. You're supposed to only take one. I took two. I'm still dying.
Then somebody's suggesting maybe you're dehydrated, so I'm drinking all the water in life. And so we keep stopping to go to the loo. It's just getting worse and worse and now I have a migraine. Like the back of my eyes are hurting, I can't keep my eyes open. I can't lift my arms. I can lift my hands, but then I can't lift my elbows past my shoulders.
And we're going deeper and deeper into the country. Like, we've left all the level four hospitals. The last one is two hours away. My main goal was just to get to my mom fast enough because she didn't know what to do. The rest of us were just kind of like winging it. It was late afternoon. Five-ish, 5 p.m.
Literally, we've just arrived. We're standing at the car waiting because mommy just drove in. So she gets out and then we greet her. I can't really hug her properly and she's asking me, what's wrong with you? And I say, my head hurts and I can't lift my arms and my shoulders are killing me. I don't know what's wrong. Help me. We're just standing there nodding and saying, Tema, you also have a fever. Tema, you also almost threw up.
Does mommy's face ever change? No, she's a busybody, so she could be washing dishes. She was doing something else. Doing something, whatever. But she's hearing you. She said, oh, I think your breasts are full of milk. I hadn't thought of that. Because it had never happened, and this was my second child. Oh, you need to breastfeed. Oh, you need to breastfeed.
So now I have no pump. It was an oversight. I'm running around looking for a place that I can be private and be able to express the milk and just release the tension. But there's no place. We have no access to the house, to the main house, because it's full of people. We have tents that are not pitched. They're in the back of the car. I don't know, like I need a bathroom. All the bathrooms are pit latrines.
And this is going to be messy because the milk is going to go everywhere, my dress is going to get wet. We sat for a bit and then we had to leave early. Getting sick. We didn't even bury my cousin's husband. So we had to leave and go to our home in our village. Mummy told me, "Stand in the hot shower and as you're standing, press your breasts."
So I stood in the shower for a while and I started to express some of it was coming out. Not enough. It was really, really horrible. And now my breasts were getting more and more engorged. Now I think I had expressed maybe three or four times. Every time I went to the bathroom, I was like, let me try again. We tried hot towels as well. So we put the hot towels, like a hot compress and just tried that.
I just want to breastfeed anybody, somebody. And if that's going to make me feel better, I noticed a baby sleeping on a couch. Nobody was watching that baby. I was going to pick up. I was just like, whose baby is this? And I had this idea. I just need somebody to suck it out. And that's when I just made a request. Guys, hear me out.
Please, please, could you just breastfeed? Sorry, what? You want me to what? Me, I was still desperate to help, yeah? But I didn't think we were this desperate. But I decided, okay, you know what? It means, what will be, will be. In the worst possible way.
So I went first, okay? I went like, you know, I licked it just to know the taste, to kind of prepare my brain. Now, let me tell you something. Disclaimer. There is nothing that can prepare you on how breast milk tastes. Did you know breast milk is warm? There's a temperature 32 degrees Celsius. Sweet, but not sweet like sugar. No. It's sweet like molasses. Stop!
You know, I'm kind of passing my lips around it, trying to get as little of the taste as possible. You're sucking like a straw. Yeah, I was sucking like a straw, but it wasn't working. Her technique was incorrect. Tawi, don't suck it like with your lips. You need to suck with your tongue. She's saying you need to latch. So now I was coaching her on how to suck like a baby. By the time...
nipples at the back of your throat you're now committed to the experience there's nothing you can do yeah so she's like let me show you really open your mouth and then she's sticking her she's sticking her boobie into your mouth and then she's like okay now suck and that's when it worked but now it's working so you have to swallow like half the contents by the time you're spitting it's only half what you sucked out because you you're latching on now properly you know
Tawi goes for like a minute or two and then she taps out. She's like, your turn. And I'm like, okay, fine. I latched. I did my minute or two. I was like, tap out, Tawi. So it went back and forth like that. Yeah.
So immediately the milk comes out, it squirts into the back of their throat, they remove their mouth because it's disgusting. That relief of, "Oh my God, yes, finally it's coming out." But then the frustration of it comes out, it stops. It comes out, it stops. And I'm just like, "Just suck it up and just breastfeed properly." After a while, the milk just kind of flows on its own.
And that's the point where now the physical relief is a lot more and now I'm feeling a lot better. A gentle flowing blue shape of relief. That's how it felt. Now I showered. I'm good now. Now I can live my life happily until I see my baby tomorrow.
We were now having a good time, chilling, talking. They were very upset. 100% upset. Not like angry or anything, but just one of those situations where like that was an upsetting experience. Like you kind of don't know how to unpack that feeling.
But real talk, you know how people say, oh, I would do anything for my sister. I love my sister so much. I'll do anything for them. Yeah, that's anything. I will not forget it. Don't you ever. You better not. So hearing this story from Kinakit. Yeah. The second time. You've heard the buildup. Yes. Here I am in the same situation.
Would you do that for me? Would you breastfeed? I feel like such a thing should only happen once in the lifespan of an entire family. So I'm really, really hopeful that this will never happen again. But should it happen? Should it happen, Fiona? I would do it. Would you? I think so. I would do it with a lot of trepidation.
But I would do it because ultimately, I would not want to see you in such distress. But you know what the real takeaway from this story is? Carry your kid. You know what Tawiyah and Mitch said? What? We all invested in breast pumps. So that's my takeaway. I don't think I would wait to be in that situation. I should just go on Amazon.
and order a portable breast pump. What do you have in my handbag? Big thanks to Lupita, Kit, Tatawi, and to Mitch and Fiona for sharing your family's story. The original score for that piece was by Clay Xavier. It was produced by David Exame with assistance from Fiona Nyongo. When we return, a homemade recipe you will not want to miss. Stay tuned. I just went on a boys trip with some of my crew.
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That's Q-U-I-N-C-E dot com slash snap to get free shipping and 365 day returns. Quince dot com slash snap. Snap Judgment is brought to you by Progressive Insurance. You chose to hit play on this podcast today. Smart choice. Make another smart choice with AutoQuote Explorer to compare rates from multiple car insurance companies all at once.
Try it at Progressive.com. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates not available in all states or situations. Prices vary based on how you buy. Welcome back to Snap Judgment, the For You Anything episode. Today, we're hearing stories from a series we worked on with Lupita Nyong'o called Mind Your Own. The show dives into stories that navigate belonging from an African perspective. And I'll let Lupita take it from here.
Okay, let's just take a moment and breathe. And now we set the table for our next story. It's from another mother. I hope you're listening. Mothers are some of the hardest working people on the planet. Take this mother, for example. My name is Joan Okosa, Barrister Joan. I'm a lawyer. I'm a legal practitioner. I have four kids. The oldest is Ashley.
I had Ashley when I was in school, when I was still in legal school. That was in like my third year. She's a sweet girl. I could do anything for her. She's sweet. She's kind and very brilliant. Now, Joan's kids are all grown up and moved out. But that doesn't stop Joan from providing a home-cooked meal every time she visits. Ashley said, Mommy, all you want to do is cook, cook, cook. I said, Mommy, you don't want to go anywhere.
In 2018, Joan hadn't seen her daughter in years. Ashley was at Columbia University getting her master's and Joan was in Nigeria. So when Ashley graduated that year, Joan knew she had to do what she did best. I said, you know what, I'm going to take Ohasup to the United States for her graduation.
Oha is one of our native soups. I'm from the eastern part of Nigeria. We have six girls in my family, so you have to know how to cook the soup. So when I gave birth to all the kids, I did the same. I passed that on to the kids. So out of all the soups, Oha became their favorite soup. I normally pass through London because I have family in London. I lived there for so many years.
So what I did was, I stayed over at my sister's place in Kent. I told my sister, oh, I'm going to make ohasu for Ashley. Oh, she was very excited about it. What I took from home here in Nigeria was the ohalif, the Indomie. I had the chinchin, I had even the bread you normally buy from Nigeria. So when I got to London, I went to the local store where they sell African foods. I got everything else here.
First of all, you need the protein. And the protein is either beef, chicken, or fish. Any kind of protein. I had kili sheik, which was like a grilled beef. I didn't use just beef, I used the cow leg. The meat comes with bone, but it's very, very nice with soup. It's very sweet. The cow leg, if you know anyone in Nigeria, the children love the cow leg. Then the tripe. You have the tripe as well. That one takes a while. So I cook the tripe with the cow leg.
And then the fish doesn't take time to cook. Secondly, you have to get the tikna. It's called ede. That's what tikin said. It just don't make oha with water. You have to get the stock. The stock is the real deal. That is what makes oha special. Then you have to get ugiri. It doesn't smell nice, but that's what makes it authentic.
And I cooked it and then I froze it. It was massive. It was a lot because I know Ashley would, you know, have her friends come over and, you know, have some. My trip was on a Saturday. I made the soup on Wednesday. And I packed it. I brought it out frozen. It was still frozen. And then I packed all the luggage.
Before I left for the airport, my sister had this angel apple. She said, why don't you take some fruits with you? And then I took the apple and then I put it on my, you know, my Prada bag. And then it was a British Airways flight. And then seven and a half hours later, I landed in JFK. You know, we onboarded a pass-through immigration. Everything was okay. I had my papers, everything, the visa. There wasn't any issue.
who had the carousel. There was a policeman. He had, you know, he had the dog, the sniffer dog. And he kept on, you know, kept on barking. I said, well, that's not for me. I'm not carrying any illegal thing. I'm not carrying drugs. I'm not doing anything that I don't know why this dog is barking.
He went away again. I came back again. He kept on barking. I've never been snipped by a dog. I never in my life, never been in trouble, any form of trouble. Never broke the laws. I tell my kids to stay out of trouble. Anything can happen and it can be indicted and the rest is history. And so when they kept coming, I was scared because just like being scared of snakes or being scared of ants or being scared of cockroach. Why is this dog coming to me? Why is it coming around?
And then they asked me to step aside. I did step aside. And they said, can we see your bag? And I said, oh, my bag. I said, okay. And then I gave them a bag. The man said, do you have any kind of fruit? Do you have anything in your bag? I said, yes, I've got an apple. The guy said, oh, I'm sorry. You're not allowed to take, you bring in any apple. And I said, wow, I didn't have any clue. I didn't know. I gave them the apple and then asked me to come with them. They took my luggage.
And then they said they have to now check my luggage. I said, fine, they should check it. They took me into the other side at GFK. For people that have maybe issues with their passports, they need to interrogate them. So that's the place they take you to. And that's when they open up the luggage. I was actually going to unlock the box for them. They said, no, ma'am, stay away. So the gentleman asked for the keys. I brought out the keys. That was when I was scared.
It was over two hours just to take those things one after the other. I was like, oh my God.
He saw an indomie, and then he said, well, chicken indomie is illegal, that I should next time bring the onion, put it in the bin. I said, not a problem. He said, yes, and he said, I know you have kids, because he knows that most Nigerians, most Africans, some of the people, I said, yes, for the children. And then he went on to the meat and said, this is dry meat. He said, no, because fish is allowed. I said, no problem. And then they chucked that one in the bin. And then when they came to the soup, it was still frozen.
And they said, what is this? I said, it's fish. He said, yes, you know, fish, you know, local delicacy. Yeah, I know the kids will enjoy it. They opened the soup because they couldn't see anything physically. It wasn't like they saw the meat clearly or they saw the fish. They knew the soup wasn't made just with water. He said, what's in this soup? What do you have? What did you cook it with? I wanted to tell the truth.
Not because of my legal background as a lawyer. I think I was raised to tell the truth. And I said, I cooked it with fish. I made it for my daughter. I was bringing it for her. And he said, okay, is it just fish? I said, no, sir, that I've got meat on it. Beef, cow leg. And he said, wow, meat is not allowed in the United States. I didn't know meat was not allowed.
He said to me, he could have allowed me to keep the fish with the soup if there was no meat. But since there was meat, he was going to take it from me. And then he said, because you told the truth, there's nothing I can do. And then he was so sorry. And right in front of me, right in front of me, they just took the soup and then they just dropped it in the trash.
I just wanted to go and see Ashley. I just wanted to run. I just wanted to go and meet her because she's been there for a long time. I couldn't contact her. I couldn't call her. And it was Mother's Day. I love my children so much. I just want to get to the destination and just give them all the goodies that I bring from Nigeria. And I told them, thank you. And then I packed the rest of my luggage. That was when they allowed me to go in and see Ashley.
When I went outside and I realized that Ashley would be eating that soup, that's when I felt bad. Not right when I was with the officers, because I didn't want to show my many kind of emotions. And then Ashley said, Mom, are you okay? And I told her what happened. She felt bad. And I felt bad that Ashley couldn't eat.
The first person I called was my mother-in-law. We spoke our language and we said, the soup is gone. She said, ha! Oh my God, that soup. Ashley's favorite. I told my sisters, we are six girls, so I told them that the soup was gone. And I told my best friend that the soup was gone. I learned from that experience that
I want to tell the mothers out there, if you're traveling, especially we that come from Africa, go through the list of what to bring and what not to bring. Now, when I travel, I travel with only fish. And then I make ohasup for her every day in Toronto. I mean, feeding my children is something that is part of it. It's something that I enjoy. It's something that I have to do. It's something that I'm born to do. I'll still be cooking for them until maybe I'm 100.
After Joan told her story, we had to know. Did she regret telling the truth? Couldn't she just have told a little lie to save her precious soup? Joan's answer, no, absolutely not. Thank you so much, Lupita. And big thanks to Joan Okosa and her daughter and story scout, Ashley Okosa, for sharing their story.
The original score by Jeremy Uwa. It's produced by Priscilla Alibi and David Exman. The original Mind Your Own theme song.
by Sander Lassa Indu, a.k.a. Sandu Indu, with Peach Curls featuring Ehi Orobo. The managing editor is Regina Beriaco. Director of production is Marissa Dodge. Engineering by Miles Lassie. And big love and thanks to Luminata Media. You can listen to Mind Your Own on any podcast platform. Ten incredible episodes. There's a grave robber. Red carpet kissing under the Nandi flame tree. All this and more. Mind Your Own with Lupita Nyong'o.
Now, after the break, an engineering breakthrough right here at Snap Labs. Prepare yourself for the Snap Judgment Time Machine. Stay tuned. ♪
Welcome back to Snap Judgment. My name is Gunn Washington, and we're bringing you a true story that takes us all over America. But you can put away your maps, because this journey we're making today won't be on highways or country roads, because we're launching through time. Now, this story does have some strong language and references incidents of racial violence. As such, listener discretion is advised.
Our story begins in a Chicago neighborhood when Jacoby Cochran walks into his grandmother's house. Snap Judgment. So my grandmother Mamie is a time traveler. And her home, which I'm sitting in right now, is a time machine. You might think I'm being poetic or metaphorical, but nah. She is a wizard.
About four years ago, I was standing on her front porch listening for the familiar, "Who is it? I'm coming. Who is it?" Her nice way of saying, "Who the is at my front door?" When she opens the door, she embraces me in her arms and I'm immediately transported to a place generations far before my own. You see, my grandparents moved into this house in the winter of 1967.
So when you walk in the air and the furniture all has generational weight to it. As you come in through the door, you're immediately greeted by these perfectly manicured couches and lamps that are about as old as the house itself. The ageless dining room set in China is about 45. As I enter into the kitchen, I walk past the 39-year-old refrigerator and I sit down at this exact table across from my grandmother.
I grab some newspapers and scissors and I get to clipping. Now as I'm sitting at the table, I can't help but think what the last two decades of my life have looked like sitting across from this wizard. As I got older, I started watching Jeopardy with my grandma and I could actually understand what was happening. And I sat across from this genius who won millions of imaginary dollars from this exact green chair.
And she loved to chastise when they would miss low-hanging fruit. But as the years went on, she gave me harsher and more grounded lessons. She taught me what it meant to be black in America. She taught me what it meant to watch Chicago transform. To go on from being the first black family on her neighborhood to one of all black families in her neighborhood. She taught me to stay alert. She was the first person that made me realize that to be black in America is to be marked.
And to be marked is to be hunted. But on this July afternoon, we were sitting there and we were clipping out the comic strips. You see, my grandmother loves this comic strip called Love Is. She is pretty much every single one from like 1983, real talk. And as we're going through getting the coupons and the sales, getting the Love Is, she looks up at me and she says...
I don't enjoy this process as much as I used to. Now of course I didn't take it personally. I knew Granny wasn't sitting there saying she doesn't like being at this table with me. So I waited and she said, "Kobe, they never really celebrate black folks on these newspapers. They go out of their way to make us look like a criminal, like an animal."
See, my grandmother was always able to boil a dissertation down into a few sentences. And I understood exactly what she meant. I've been sitting at this table for 25 plus years and the newspapers never taught me about Black Wall Street, how local gangs actually started as community organizations. Hell, even Juneteenth. Nah, they went out of their way to remind me that I was marked. And to be marked is to be hunted.
And at that moment, Jeopardy gives way to the news. And me and my grandmother are immediately transported together from her kitchen table to a parking lot in Shreveport, Louisiana. It's grainy video footage, but both of us can kind of make out what's happening. In the front of a convenience store, we see a black man being wrestled to the ground, knees in his back, chest pinned against the concrete.
You can't really hear exactly what's being said, but me and my grandmother sitting in the silence try to translate when all of a sudden gunshots feel my grandmother's kitchen. She looks at me with these salt and pepper curls that have always been salt and pepper in my eyes. And she places her brittle hand on top of mine and she says, this is exactly what I'm talking about.
Look how quickly they looked at that man and they made up their mind. Kobe, have I ever told you the story of Emmett Till? In that moment, I couldn't move. I couldn't say anything. And all of a sudden, my grandmother turned around and she reached into this closet under a stack of newspapers and a stack of magazines. And she pulled out this Ziploc bag.
And it was a September 1955 copy of Jet Magazine. She sat it on the table in front of me. She told me the story of August 1955 in Money, Mississippi. When she got done, it was clear that time traveling took a lot out of her. You see, she used to be able to sit at this table and move through stories with precise phenomenological detail.
But it was clear in her later years that her powers were wavering and she looked so tired. So she put the magazines back in the Ziploc and back in the closet and she said, Kobe, I'm gonna go upstairs and I'm gonna take a nap. I just sat here in this table in silence as the names ran through my head like Oscar and Michelle, Mike and Sandra.
Freddie, Rekia, Laquan, and Alton. Eventually I got up from the table and I exited the time machine and I went home. I woke up the next day, I'm gonna be honest with you, I didn't feel great. As you can imagine, the growing trauma of being black in America kind of up the morning ritual. It's almost like my first thought is, "Wow, I'm alive." And my second thought is, "Here we go again."
But instead of dwelling, I think to myself, you know what? I'm going to get up. And I'm going to go back to my grandma's house because I don't really like how it ended yesterday. We was in the middle of clipping newspapers and coupons and love is comic strips. So I go back. And I'm standing on the front porch listening for the familiar, who is it? I'm coming. Who is it? Which nicely translates to who the is standing at my front door.
My grandmother opens it and places me in her warm embrace. And immediately I'm transported to a time generations before my own. I walk past the perfectly manicured couches and lamps. Past the ageless dining room set. Past the 39-year-old refrigerator. And I sit back down at this table like I have my entire life. And I ask my grandmother to pass me a newspaper and a pair of scissors. And I get to clipping.
And in the silence, my grandmother looks up at me and she says, Kobe, I don't really like doing this anymore. She said they never really celebrate black folks on these newspapers. And I looked down and I said, you're right, grandma, they don't. And before I could continue, she cut me off and she said, but Kobe, I'm going to show you one of my favorite newspapers. And she reached in this closet room.
Under a whole bunch of newspapers and she pulled out a copy of the Sun Times from 2013. And she put it in my face and she said, you see this little boy right up here in the corner? She said, this is my favorite newspaper because they put one of my favorite black boys on this newspaper. And it was a little picture of my face in the corner.
And of course I'm sitting there blushing with my grandma because you know how grandparents hype you up, right? They make you feel like superstars even when you just living. But before I can say thank you, the television goes to the news and me and my grandmother are immediately transported to St. Paul, Minneapolis, Minnesota.
A black woman is holding up her phone on Facebook Live as her daughter screams in the backseat, as her boyfriend bleeds out in the passenger seat, shot, as we would later learn, seven times. And me and my grandmother, we sit there and we watch the last moments of Philando Castile's life. And she looks at me.
With those salt and pepper curls and she puts her brittle hand on top of mine and she says, Kobe, this is exactly what I'm talking about. Have I ever told you the story of Emmett Till? And she reaches behind her in this closet under a stack of newspapers and magazines and she grabs a Ziploc bag.
In it, an original September 1955 Jet Magazine and she sets it on the table and she looks at me. You see, my grandmother is a time traveler, a wizard, and this house I sit in is her time machine. But she no longer remembers being the first black family on this block. You see, with the dementia, she no longer remembers the perfectly manicured couch and lamps.
She doesn't remember that the ageless dining room set in China is 45. She doesn't remember that the refrigerator is 39. She doesn't even remember that we sat here at this exact table yesterday. But unlike yesterday, my grandmother summons up this energy and she tells me vividly the story of August 28th, 1955.
She tells me first about four days earlier and the lie that Carolyn Bryant told. She tells me about the night her husband and his brother kidnapped Teal from his granduncle's house, how they beat him and tortured him, then tied a 75-pound fan around his neck and drug him and shot him in the back of his head and left him where he was found days later
She told me about Mamie Teal and the sacrifices that no mother should ever have to make. How she was forced to make the tough decisions to show the world the brutality it was already very much aware of. How black women are often left picking up the broken pieces in these moments and movements. A few months later, my grandmother passed away just a season before celebrating the 50th anniversary in her home.
And I'll be honest with you, I've been selfish. I've sat at this table now in the seat she once occupied and I wish every day that she'd sit next to me, that she'd time travel with me. But part of me is happy that she no longer has to clip these newspapers where black people die every day for walking and running and driving and sleeping and selling and relaxing and living.
I recently came back to my grandmother's house and I stood on the front porch. I didn't listen for the familiar, who is it? I'm coming, who is it? Because now that it's my mother's home, she's installed the camera doorbell. So she knows exactly who's on her front porch. My mother answers the door and she wraps me in her warm embrace. As I walk past the perfectly manicured couches that are still as old as the house.
I notice the refrigerator has been replaced, but me and my mother we sit in the same two chairs and we start clipping through newspapers. Not for coupons and sales, but like my grandmother, my mom loves this comic strip. Love, ears. And then the TV goes to news and me and my mother are transported to Kenosha, Wisconsin.
We don't clip the newspapers nearly as much as my grandmother did. We don't stack and collect the names, but we remember them. I open up my journal. I write down his name, Jacob Blake. And then I write what's on my heart in that moment. My grandmother, Mamie, is a time traveler. Big, big thanks to Colby Cochran for sharing his story with the Snap.
Jacobi is an award-winning performer, educator, and writer who reps Chicago's South Side all day. To learn more about where to catch his latest shows, videos, and writing, check out our website, stampjudgment.org. Original score for that story was by Clay Xavier. It was produced by Regina Barriaco and Anna Sussman. ♪♪
Oh yes, snappers. If you missed even a moment, know
An entire world of Snap storytelling awaits. Did I mention that we're super proud of the Mind Your Own podcast? The New York Times called it one of the 10 best podcasts of the year on podcast platforms everywhere. KQED in San Francisco is Snap Judgment's orbiting hall of justice. Snap is brought to you by the team that goes to bed each and every night promptly at 10 o'clock.
Except for the Uber producer, Mr. Mark Ristich. That's about when he wakes up. Now there's Nancy Lopez, Pat Lucini Miller, Anna Sussman, Renzo Borio, John Fasile, Shana Shealy, Taylor DeCott, Flo Wiley, Bo Walsh, Marissa Dodge, David Exeney, and Regina Berriaco. And this, this is not the news. No way is this the news. In fact, you can inquire around town as to what might be the word.
One of the young toughs might let it slip that the bird is the word. Make sure you've heard correctly. The bird is the word. Yes, sir. The bird is the word. The bird, bird, bird. The bird is the word. Finally satisfied that yes, the bird is in fact the word. The bird, bird, bird being the word in question. You would still...
Not be as far away from the news as this is, but this is PRX.