Frida Kahlo and My Left Leg is not a linear narrative, it circles back to loss--both Rapp Black and Kahlo are amputees--but the the loss here is not that simple.
If it’s true that for daughters growing up in a patriarchal culture, there is a feeling of having to choose between being empowered and being loved, I had chosen the loneliness of empowerment.
Mother wound: aisle five.
When I turn in at night, I no longer imagine I’ll rest easy for fighting the good fight. In my fitful sleep, I’ll grit my teeth and crack my molars instead.
When I turn in at night, I no longer imagine I’ll rest easy for fighting the good fight. In my fitful sleep, I’ll grit my teeth and crack my molars instead.
The MRI room reminded me of the Chilean miners, trapped for days without light or contact with the “real” world, struggling to stay sane while facing off with death in a very small space.
I have spent so long trying to gauge my boss’s taste, making recommendations and edits based on what I think she wants to see, that I have no idea what to tell people when they ask me what I’m hungry for.
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