When Wanda bought the house, she didn’t imagine that anyone in the community would recognize that she and Lynn were queer.
The baby had come from a place none of us could remember. Our grandmother was headed there.
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When Wanda bought the house, she didn’t imagine that anyone in the community would recognize that she and Lynn were queer.
The baby had come from a place none of us could remember. Our grandmother was headed there.
The author of Mother of God discusses the limitations of realism, Frank Bidart, and the anguished duality of shame.
Standing in the wreckage of these spaces unlocks a sensation people often crave, but can’t name.
It’s an imagined past, a pastoral imaginary, an alternate timeline in the multiverse.
The author of What We Lose on identities, the inability to be cured of grief, and abortion as a debate between something and nothing.
A traumatic fifteen-hour spinal operation saved my life but stole most of my mobility and, thus, my dance career. It took fifteen years to begin to correct the story.
Is donning cowboy boots a symbol of independence for women, or an attempt to fit in with a culture that does not seem to recognize—or respect—our autonomy?
Every day since November has been a drag. In the midst of its dog days, one weekend of well-deserved, inclusive, player-worship was the least baseball could provide.
Why am I loath to confess to the role these bands played in allowing me a measure of catharsis when I was a teenager facing down extraordinary grief?
Armond White's film reviews were once electric: part historical analysis, part posturing, part insult comedy, an attempt to take black art—and art in general—seriously. What happened?