I asked our students to engage in some self-reflection this week: think about yourself last August, when school started, and think about yourself today. How have you grown? What’s different?
Continue reading “525,600 minutes etc., etc.”
I have this friend. You might know her, actually.
My friend, she writes beautifully and precisely about horrible things. She curates words with a clarity of mind that leaves you with no mistake as to what happened, who is to blame, and what was at stake. I envy her this.
All I can seem to do is ramble on. Write 9,000 words about things I’ve been parsing since I was 15, each year adding and compounding to the total. If our savings accounts accrued interest the way our bodies do harassment, we could make up the wage gap, and then some. We could pay for our birth control, our preventive visits, our maternity care.
Continue reading “This week, last week, always”
I walked into a pub in Gettysburg famished and cold, hoping they had French onion soup on the menu. The Black & Gray had been recommended to me by the hotel receptionist (“They have all these burgers on the menu named after Confederate generals and depending on which one you order, it’ll come with a Confederate or U.S. flag!”). Continue reading “Gifts from the Debs”
It’s Black History Month! And Trump’s a racist!
I spend too much time on Twitter and this morning ran across the transcript of Trump’s Black History Month remarks. He referred to the breakfast as “our little breakfast, our little get-together,” first of all.
Continue reading “Lift Ev’ry Voice, and then some”
When my best friend in high school was deciding whether she’d leave California and go East for college, her mother walked into her room one night and, apropos of nothing asked, “pero ¿quién alimentará tú?” Continue reading ““Did you eat, yet?””
I think when the women in this NYT article lament about not feeling welcome, they’re saying they won’t feel celebrated. The world isn’t about only us, fellow white women. Continue reading “Dear White Women”
Tonight was the first night I carried with me the pepper spray that M’s boyfriend got for us after a spate of violent robberies in the neighborhood took place this spring. Continue reading “On Being a Woman, After Dark, in New York City — Running Edition”
When all falls down I hide from that which holds me accountable. At one time, that was my grandmother.
This isn’t so much about accountability as it is about acknowledging reality, though, I guess. Continue reading “When Not to Wing It”
It started this morning, when I remembered I turned down the opportunity to get a pedicure with her. Suburban pedis are expensive, and I didn’t want her to spend her money treating me; what’s more, I didn’t want to shell out the bucks for one.
So, instead, I gave up two precious hours and killed time in Wal-Mart, like a fucking rookie. The audacity in thinking we have indefinite time! Continue reading “Home, Part Three: Palliatives”
I am so sick of men’s helplessness.
Palms outstretched, shoulders shrugging. “We don’t know what to do. We’re used to fixing things. And this, we can’t fix. We feel helpless. I’ve told you — I wish it were me in this position, rather than you.”
Well, you are helpless now, and so are we. The difference is, there was never any pretext about whether or not we’d fix things, because fixing is what we’ve always done. Quietly, and without fanfare. Things get done because we do them and move on, end of story. Continue reading “Home, Part Two: On Permission and Old Man Bullshit”