Mass intimacy requires a dilution of one’s complexities. In order to become a celebrity, a person necessarily becomes a personage.
For two years after one of my closest friends killed herself, I thought my grief and guilt were meant only to be handled privately. Tree of Smoke reeled me back into the world.
My father’s stories come from a career behind the bar of New York’s oldest pub, among the alcoholics and loners and deviants who became his people and helped him find his voice as a writer.
For the past five centuries being black has meant collectively experiencing grief in ways that the rest of society does not understand and cannot fully comprehend.
Where I grew up, feminine boys were cautionary tales. I couldn’t explore my identity and remain a model queer boy, a boy who fits in.
In her original incarnation, the only female Smurf reminds me of all the assumptions I’ve had to navigate about my sexuality and sense of self as a Jewish woman.
From public testimonies of grief to video game dispatches from the funeral industry, the way we think about death is changing.
The Victorian supernatural was a transparent manifestation of the period’s constant dialogue with death and dying.
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