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.
Canadians want to focus on Gord Downie, on anniversaries, on the prime minister's photo-ops, on giant rubber ducks—on anything, it seems, but Indigenous people.
This year, this prolonged unraveling, is what survival looks like.
If a signature scent represents the delineations of a person fully fleshed, perfume samples offer the liberty of a protean form.
If beauty is in acts of ordinary devotion I think ugliness must be in the acts of everyday neglect.
The author of Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars on the joy of writing a cast of women, the violence of passing and the responsibilities of media-makers.
I am learning what it is to be responsible for my own warmth.