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.
I wasn’t alone in turning to teen dramas to deal with mental health issues.
I kept my dad's name, even after he left, and I'm still not sure why. Now it's too late to change. Isn't it?
I spent my year eavesdropping on people who believe that an inability to do things for oneself is not only impractical or short-sighted, but morally punishable.
When people asked me why I had come to Budapest, I told them it made sense at the time.
What happens when we purposefully set aside time to meditate on the multifaceted nature of Black joy in the face of Black suffering?
I now find myself repeatedly asking which is the more powerful Jewish tradition, our love of ourselves or the world’s hatred of us?