Unveiling the Soul

The Souls of Black Folk was released in 1903 by W.E.B. Du Bois

Reading W.E.B. Du Bois’s "The Souls of Black Folk" feels less like revisiting history and more like confronting the present. First published in 1903, this collection of essays remains profoundly relevant, a powerful lens through which to understand the complexities of race, identity, and the enduring struggle for equality in America. It’s a book that doesn’t just recount the past; it illuminates the deep-seated issues that continue to shape our society, forcing a necessary reckoning with the legacy of slavery and systemic racism. Its pages pulse with an urgency that transcends time, demanding attention over a century later.

Du Bois introduces concepts that have become fundamental to understanding the Black experience in America. He famously describes the central problem of the twentieth century as "the problem of the color-line," the stark division separating Black and white society. This division is further explored through the metaphor of "the Veil," a barrier of prejudice and misunderstanding that prevents white society from truly seeing Black people and obstructs Black self-perception. Reading Du Bois, you feel the weight of this Veil, the psychological burden of navigating a world that constantly questions your humanity and limits your opportunities based solely on skin color.

Perhaps the book’s most enduring contribution is the concept of "double-consciousness" Du Bois articulates the unique internal conflict experienced by Black Americans: "this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity." It’s the feeling of being both Black and American, two identities often perceived as conflicting in a racially divided society This concept resonates deeply, explaining the constant negotiation required to reconcile one’s heritage with a national identity that has historically excluded it, a psychological toll that persists in various forms today.

"The Souls of Black Folk" also delves into the critical debate surrounding Black progress in the post-Reconstruction era. Du Bois challenges the accommodationist approach of Booker T. Washington, who emphasized industrial education and economic self-sufficiency above all else. Du Bois argued that this focus neglected the crucial need for political power, civil rights, and higher education for Black Americans. He champions the importance of developing a "Talented Tenth" which was intellectual leaders equipped with liberal arts education who could guide the race toward full equality and challenge systemic injustice. This emphasis on intellectual and political struggle, rather than mere economic advancement, marked a pivotal moment in Black thought and activism.

Through poignant essays, historical analysis, and even explorations of spirituals ("the sorrow songs"), which he calls "the most beautiful expression of human experience born this side the seas," Du Bois crafts a multifaceted portrait of Black life at the dawn of the 20th century. He captures the pain, resilience, hope, and striving of a people grappling with the unfulfilled promise of emancipation. More than a century later, "The Souls of Black Folk" remains essential reading. It challenges us to look behind the Veil, to understand the historical roots of present-day inequalities, and to recognize the ongoing importance of fighting for a truly just and equitable society. It’s a book that speaks not just to the souls of Black folk, but profoundly, and perhaps uncomfortably, to the soul of America itself.

John Keim

Growing up, I'd sit cross-legged on my living room carpet, watching daily sports talk shows that felt like tickets to a world of stats and stories. As a kid from the DMV area, I naturally gravitated toward local sports, which led me to discover John Keim, ESPN's Washington Commanders reporter. His unique ability to blend hard facts with genuine human moments captivated me and shaped my vision of the sports writer I aspire to become.

John Keim

Keim has been covering the Commanders since 1994, building an encyclopedic knowledge that gives his reporting unmatched depth and context. Before joining ESPN in 2013, he honed his craft at the Journal Newspapers, Washington Examiner, and Washington Post. This extensive experience shows in his work—he knows the team's quarterback carousel since their '91 Super Bowl like it's his own memory. Beyond his ESPN articles, Keim hosts "The John Keim Report" podcast, offering fans even more insights into the team's inner workings.

What sets Keim apart isn't just his longevity or institutional knowledge—it's his storytelling approach that transcends typical sports reporting. Take his piece on Jayden Daniels, the Commanders' new quarterback hopeful. Instead of drowning readers in statistics, Keim paints a vivid picture of Daniels sneaking into the facility after hours, grinding with VR drills to perfect his craft. He weaves in quotes from General Manager Adam Peters calling Daniels a player who "loves football" and Head Coach Dan Quinn describing him as a "game-changer." These human elements transform what could be mundane sports coverage into compelling narratives that resonate with both die-hard fans and casual readers.

His feature on offensive coordinator Kliff Kingsbury exemplifies this approach. Keim delves into Kingsbury's life beyond football—his Thailand trips after leaving Arizona and meaningful moments bonding with his father at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. These personal details create an emotional connection while still tying back to the Commanders' offensive improvement from 23rd to 5th in points. It's not just X's and O's; it's real life intersecting with the playbook. This balance is what I strive to achieve in my own writing.

Keim's social media presence further demonstrates his journalistic instincts. On X (formerly Twitter), @john_keim  delivers real-time updates from training camp in Ashburn or insights on Daniels' arm strength that sometimes garner 49,000+ views. His posts feel less like promotional content and more like text messages from a knowledgeable friend sharing insider information. This authentic approach to digital journalism is something I hope to emulate, providing readers with timely updates that make them feel part of the story as it unfolds.

Having authored or co-authored four books while maintaining his beat reporting responsibilities, Keim demonstrates the versatility required in modern sports journalism. His career path from local newspapers to national platforms like ESPN shows the value of building expertise in a specific beat while continuously adapting to new media formats.

John Keim has taught me that the best sports journalism doesn't just inform—it connects. By balancing analytical insights with human stories, he creates content that resonates with diverse audiences and stands out in today's crowded media landscape. That's the kind of sports writer I aim to become—someone whose words feel raw, relatable, and worth reading, whether on newsprint or pixels. 

Revenue Sharing in College Athletics

Clemson University's Football Facility represents the type of high-end facilities that wealthy programs can afford.

In the evolving landscape of college athletics, the introduction of revenue sharing represents a significant shift in how we value student-athletes' contributions. The $2.78 billion settlement  between the NCAA, its conferences, and former college athletes has opened the door to direct athlete compensation beginning in 2025. While this development marks progress toward fairness in college sports, we must acknowledge a concerning reality: without proper protections, smaller schools risk being left behind in this new era.

As someone who has followed college athletics closely, I believe revenue sharing is fundamentally a step in the right direction. For decades, student-athletes generated billions in revenue while receiving only scholarships and stipends in return. The ability for schools to share up to $20.5 million annually with their athletes acknowledges their role in creating value. However, this system threatens to widen the already substantial gap between wealthy Power 4 programs and smaller institutions that lack comparable resources.

The reality for smaller institutions is stark. As Big Sky Commissioner Tom Wistrcill noted, many schools in his conference will be forced to pay "$250,000 to $350,000 annually for ten years" in settlement damages - a significant burden for already cash-strapped institutions. While Power 4 schools can easily afford to pay athletes up to the cap, smaller Division I programs simply cannot match these resources.

This financial disparity creates several concerning outcomes. First, smaller schools may be forced to cut Olympic sports programs to afford settlement payments. Second, the recruiting landscape will become even more unbalanced, with top talent gravitating toward schools offering the most lucrative compensation packages. Finally, the competitive gap in college athletics will widen further, potentially diminishing the excitement and unpredictability that makes college sports special.

Consider the perspective of Portland State men's basketball coach Jase Coburn, who acknowledged that the changing rules around athlete compensation have affected "recruiting, budgets and program stability." For programs like his, competing against schools with vastly greater resources presents an increasingly difficult challenge.

Despite these challenges, there are viable strategies that could help smaller schools remain competitive in this new landscape. Here are several protections that could level the playing field:

1. Merchandise Licensing Revenue Models

One promising approach involves smaller schools acquiring their athletes' NIL licensing rights for merchandise. As Sports Illustrated reported , non-Power 4 schools can unlock new revenue streams by redirecting royalties earned from merchandise sales to NIL revenue-sharing. This strategy allows smaller schools to "move what would be 'above the cap' payments at larger schools in-house and use that revenue strategically."

The professional sports world offers useful models. The NFL Players Association uses a 67/33 split for jersey sales, with 33% distributed equally among all players. MLB takes an even more equitable approach, with all players receiving equal shares of licensing revenues based on service time. These models ensure that even athletes who don't sell many jerseys benefit from the collective marketing power of the league.

Ashton Jeanty of Boise State

2. Roster-Wide Distribution

Smaller schools should consider more equitable distribution models rather than concentrating NIL funds on a few star athletes. When Boise State running back Ashton Jeanty topped Campus Ink's NIL Store jersey sales last year, it demonstrated how a star player from a smaller school can generate significant revenue. By distributing some of these earnings across the entire roster, schools can improve team cohesion and ensure all athletes benefit.

3. Direct Negotiation with Merchandise Companies

By purchasing athletes' NIL rights upfront, smaller schools could negotiate directly with merchandise companies without expensive third-party intermediaries. This approach could reduce transaction costs and increase the total compensation reaching athletes' pockets.

While financial incentives are increasingly important in college athletics, we shouldn't overlook the continued significance of culture, community, and educational opportunities. As track athlete Sabrina Oostburg noted , "I think the bigger question we're looking at is, how do smaller schools keep up with the bigger schools? I think that's where you really have to lean into your strengths as a school."

Smaller schools must emphasize their unique advantages - closer student-athlete relationships with coaches, more intimate campus communities, and specialized academic programs. The military academies provide an excellent example of this approach. Despite not offering NIL collectives, they continue attracting talented athletes by emphasizing their distinctive culture and the long-term career benefits they can provide.

Facilities also remain crucial in this equation. While NIL collectives have diverted some funds that previously went toward facilities, schools can still prioritize investments in revenue-generating spaces, multi-purpose facilities, and environments that foster team cohesion. These investments create daily value for student-athletes beyond direct compensation.

The transition to revenue sharing represents a fundamental shift in college athletics, but it doesn't have to spell doom for smaller programs. With thoughtful protections and strategic approaches, these schools can remain competitive while embracing the positive aspects of athlete compensation.

What's clear is that smaller schools cannot and should not attempt to copy the payment structures of top programs. Instead, they must create competitive advantages through innovative approaches to NIL, emphasizing their unique strengths, and developing models that benefit all their student-athletes.

As Portland State coach Coburn wisely noted, "We have to strive to try and level the playing field." This sentiment captures the challenge and opportunity facing smaller schools in this new era. With the right protections and strategies, revenue sharing can be a positive development for all of college athletics, not just the schools with the most money.

Obituary

 Clarence Antonio Wiggins “Tony”  passed away suddenly on Tuesday, May 20, 2014 in New York City. Born in Norfolk, Virginia on January 28, 1960, Tony was the only son of Gladys Wiggins Ray and the late Clarence Wiggins. From a young age, Tony showed an infectious love for life, whether playing pranks on his sisters, devouring books – especially the Bible – or expressing an adoration for all creatures, including snakes.

Tony’s early years in the Rocky Mount School System were marked by academic excellence and varied talents. He received awards from the Optimist Club during “Youth Appreciation Week,” stayed on the Honor Roll every semester, and was one of two classmates chosen to deliver the Commencement Address for the Class of 1978. His dedication to learning set the stage for his future.

After high school, Tony attended the United States Naval Academy, graduating in 1982. Soon after, he married Denise O’Donnell of San Diego, California, and together they welcomed their son, Brennan, in 1984. Tony’s commitment to service was clear during his time as a Qualified Surface Warfare Officer, serving globally from 1982 to 1987. He furthered his education with a Juris Doctor from the University of Detroit, School of Law.

Tony built a successful career with prominent corporations and government agencies, including Mobil Oil Corporation, Colliers International, the Federal Emergency Management Agency, and the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. His passion for collectibles, music, food, and culture earned him admiration for his warm smile and gift of debate.

Tony was preceded in death by his father, Clarence Wiggins. He is survived by his devoted son, Brennan Wiggins; his loving mother, Gladys Wiggins Ray; and his cherished sisters, Valerie Wiggins Street (Donald) and Sonya W. Stovall (Troy). He also leaves behind one niece, Zora L. Stovall; one nephew, Langston A. Stovall; one step-brother, Ernest A. Ray; one step-sister, Shelia A. Ray; as well as his uncles, Leonard Wiggins (Selma) and Oscar T. Jones; aunts Dorothy B. Banks, Shirley A. Battle, Lillie Mae Wiggins, Mary W. Dawson, Ruby W. Bethel (Grady), Gloria Jean Chapman (Rod) and Gloria Wiggins-Hicks; and many other relatives and friends.

Theodore Roosevelt

"Progress is a double-edged sword—one that advances reform while also leaving deep scars of prejudice."

This paradox perfectly captures Theodore "Teddy" Roosevelt, a man whose legacy embodies profound contradictions. While history often celebrates him as a champion of conservation and progressive reform, a more critical examination reveals a leader whose policies reinforced racial hierarchies and white supremacy. Roosevelt's presidency represents a complex moral reckoning that Americans must confront: how do we reconcile his undeniable achievements with his deeply problematic racial views?

Theodore Roosevelt, 1903. Library of Congress.

Roosevelt's conservation efforts transformed America's relationship with its natural resources . He established approximately 230 million acres of public lands, including 150 national forests, 5 national parks, and 18 national monuments. His foresight in protecting these treasures deserves recognition. Similarly, his "Square Deal" policies challenged corporate monopolies and championed workers' rights, positioning him as a progressive reformer.

Yet these accomplishments cannot be separated from Roosevelt's racial ideology. In a 1906 letter, he confided that Black Americans were "altogether inferior to whites." He falsely denigrated the buffalo soldiers  who fought alongside him at San Juan Hill, claiming they "ran away under fire" when in reality, they served with distinction and many died heroically. His views on Native Americans were equally disturbing, stating in 1886: "I don't go so far as to think that the only good Indian is the dead Indian, but I believe nine out of every ten are."

The Brownsville Affair of 1906  starkly illustrates Roosevelt's racial prejudice in action. When a white bartender was killed in Brownsville, Texas, Roosevelt dishonorably discharged 167 Black soldiers from the 25th Infantry Regiment without due process or evidence, destroying their careers and reputations. This decision exposed the systemic racial injustices that tainted his presidency.

Roosevelt's conservation legacy itself carries a dark undercurrent. The establishment of national parks often came at the expense of Native Americans, with approximately 86 million acres of tribal land transferred to the national forest system. The lands he "protected" had been stewarded by indigenous peoples for centuries before being forcibly taken.

Roosevelt and his "Big Stick"

His racial philosophy extended to his support of eugenics , which advocated selective breeding to engineer a "superior" race. "Society has no business to permit degenerates to reproduce," he wrote in 1913, adding that citizens had a duty to "leave his or her blood behind him in the world."

Roosevelt's foreign policy similarly reflected his belief in Anglo-Saxon superiority. His "Big Stick" diplomacy and Roosevelt Corollary to the Monroe Doctrine justified American imperialism under the guise of "uplifting" supposedly inferior peoples. He explicitly stated that it was "of incalculable importance" that lands pass "out of the hands of their red, black and yellow aboriginal owners" to become "the heritage of the dominant world races."

While some might argue we should judge Roosevelt by the standards of his time, this ignores the more progressive voices on race that existed during his era but that he dismissed. His legacy demands we acknowledge both his conservation triumphs and his moral failures on race. Only by confronting this complex truth can we fully understand Roosevelt's impact on American history and the ongoing struggle for racial justice.

Me in 500 Words

Is it possible to feel at home while barely unpacking boxes? I’ve been testing that theory my whole life. Born in Pennsylvania, whisked off to Mississippi, and eventually finding my footing in Maryland, I’ve become an expert in the art of constant relocation.

Most kids grew up building tree forts; I learned how to pack up my room before I could read a clock and tie my shoes. My earliest memories? The rattle of moving trucks and the hush of packing tape.

Relocating taught me to pack light physically and emotionally. I never grew too attached to objects, because I never knew when I’d need to leave them behind. Each move shaped my outlook: people and memories matter more than possessions, and laughter can cushion even the rockiest transitions.

Swimming became my anchor. Before I could even tie my shoes or read a clock, I was perfecting my freestyle. From childhood lessons to varsity achievements, water demanded discipline and resilience. I still remember practices that tested my willpower, the smell of chlorine, and the feel of victory after a race.

I broke a few age-group records along the way and represented my high school swim team all four years. Each stroke was a challenge to see how far I could push myself. Endless laps became meditative.

I also discovered cross country. Running and swimming might be worlds apart, but the dedication required felt familiar. Early-morning routes, shin splints, and triumphant finishes pushed me to keep evolving.

In between races, I found a quiet determination that spilled into every corner of my life. I realized my biggest competition was always myself. Every sweaty practice sharpened my focus and honed my commitment. Sports were more than physical feats; they were a mindset and a bond with teammates.

Sometimes I wonder if I’d be the same person without those boxes, that taped-up existence. Maybe I’d hold on tighter to things, or fear change more. But I’ve learned that temporary circumstances can still spark lasting growth.

Humor keeps me sane when life demands another big shift. I’ve nearly toppled towers of cardboard, but I’ve also learned to laugh it off. Embracing new places and routines is easier when you see it as a grand adventure.

In the end, I’m grateful for every cardboard box and half-empty room. I’ve discovered that while my address changes, my passion for sports, history, and law remains constant