Being an aunt changed me. It’s a love that hums in my blood, sewn into my soul, unchanged by time, space, and even death. But there is an emptiness in me that sometimes aches for more, a loss no one else can see.
May 9, 2021
Rose’s sister goes missing on a Tuesday. On a Tuesday Rose’s sister leaves. Whichever one is true, either way she’s gone. Rose tells the police everything she knows.
May 7, 2021
When it was time for us to figure out if we wanted to have a baby, I hadn’t been saying what I wanted for years. And Eric was always so sure.
May 2, 2021
“I was just checking the weather,” I lied. It wasn’t an outright lie because I do check the weather every time I look outside.
April 30, 2021
Haunted by my dreams, I poured my built-up rage into the bag until all that was left was fear—the fear of not being enough, enough to protect myself, enough to protect my family. I found myself exhausted and crying.
April 28, 2021
I am not someone who enjoys a lot of “me” time, long baths, or elaborate self-care rituals, and yet, by virtue of living alone in an introvert’s haven like Seattle, I came to convince myself that I was, in fact, this kind of person.
April 26, 2021
The Apartheid flag in South Africa, like the Confederate Flag in the USA, is more than an uncomfortable reminder of an evil that has not been fully acknowledged by some and of a not very distant past that still has a long reach into the present.
April 25, 2021
I was simply falling in step, as was expected of me. I was not merely part of a lineage: I was white privilege.
April 23, 2021
“I don’t want to start a fight with you over this!” he says. “I’m not starting a fight! I just made a comment!” And then we start fighting about the fact that we aren’t fighting.
April 21, 2021
Sarah Sentilles one of a handful of writers I am always eager to work with. She is a writer, teacher, critical theorist, scholar of religion, and author.
April 18, 2021
Risa would rake her fingers through a dog’s fur and instantly decompress. She’d stroke a cat and shudder as it purred. It was the second month that proved a disaster.
April 16, 2021
I was expected to be a meek, obedient wife. When I would try to voice an opinion, my husband would shut me down and get the children to mock me, until, finally, I broke.
April 14, 2021
by Wendy Dodek During this pandemic my thoughts turn to Japan, a country where masks are part of daily…
April 12, 2021
Beyond the “N-word,” I knew what the caller meant by calling my father “boy.” My six-foot-five-inch father was no boy. He was big and he could be pretty scary.
April 11, 2021