DuSable Museum of African American History in Chicago, U.S.

So this is the new and improved blog Americans in America.

The name came to me in a vision I had a few years ago.

A man dressed in a long shawl named Dalip said to me:

“Sudip. Update your shit.


And that was it.

I’ve been busy with my journalism and PhD ish so far. But I’m still a writer at heart, since it gives me value, makes me feel loved, and…oh yea…it’s nice to write, I guess.

Either way, welcome to the Americans in America, a place of diverse thoughts for a diverse generation.

This time, as you’ve noticed, I’ll be using more pictures and color to liven up the spirit. Also cause apparently you folks are addicted to flashy lights. Squirrel!

Anyways, this is a place for me dumping my stories, my work, my everything (poems for long lost loves who lost their loves and gained new perspectives). I often talk about race. I often talk about romance, minus the cheese sticks and cheesy parts. I often talk about pain and loss, heartache and farts. Also, lots and lots about politics, and social issues, and all that good stuff that makes someone be like, Wow, he’s smart, and so cool, Sudip is life.

But on a more serious note since after all, we’re all adults here who no longer laugh when someone falls down a flight of stairs and passes gas at the end:

The American system. The American way. It’s always been abysmal for people of color. Always. I’ve worked as a journalist. Been writing since I was growing up in Queens, back when Giuliani ruled with his iron thumbs. I know what you know. You know what I know. We all need to know some more.

To quote Rakim cause why not:

“I start to think and then I sink

Into the paper like I was ink

When I’m writing, I’m trapped between the lines

I escape when I finish the rhyme…

I got soul”


P.S. There was a guy named Dalip Singh Saund by the way. He was real. As real as your fat hands, and unibrow.


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