Denae Wilkins

Author Archive: Denae Wilkins

Denae has been a self-proclaimed author, playwright, and poet from the early age of four. She is majoring in public relations with a minor in African American studies at Boston University. When she isn't stuffing her face with french fries, you can find Denae in the clearance racks of H&M, Old Navy, and Forever 21.

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I Don’t Want These Magic Pills

I Don’t Want These Magic Pills

| March 24, 2016 | 0 Comments

Having ADD isn’t as glamorous as college students believe it to be. In fact, it’s really frustrating. And more than anything, it’s a disability.

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Makeup For It

Makeup For It

| February 23, 2016 | 0 Comments

To say the least, I have a complicated relationship with makeup.

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Love Yourself(ie)

Love Yourself(ie)

| January 26, 2016 | 2 Comments

There is something empowering about uploading a selfie, about showing the world that “Yes, I look and feel beautiful.”

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Let Me Tell You About My Best Friend

Let Me Tell You About My Best Friend

| January 15, 2016 | 1 Comment

Rayauna, my love for you has no bounds. You’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had.

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Letter from a Future Starving Artist

Letter from a Future Starving Artist

| November 20, 2015 | 0 Comments

My creative muscle has atrophied in Boston, Massachusetts.

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The Holy Grail: Trident Booksellers and Cafe

The Holy Grail: Trident Booksellers and Cafe

| November 9, 2015 | 0 Comments

“Books and Brunch” may be the new “Netflix and Chill” and there’s no better place to do that than Trident Booksellers and Cafe.

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A Compilation of Thoughts

A Compilation of Thoughts

| November 2, 2015 | 2 Comments

I always find unintentional wisdom in the words I write absentmindedly.

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On Hair and Race: A Continued Conversation

On Hair and Race: A Continued Conversation

| October 28, 2015 | 1 Comment

A crown, a badge of honor, a marker of my heritage. My hair transformed into something I proudly wore. Something I could never imagine changing.

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On the Times I Have Realized I Am Black

On the Times I Have Realized I Am Black

| May 4, 2015 | 1 Comment

In these moments, all I can feel is sadness. Sadness for the existence of these moments, and sadness for the environments that facilitate them.

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