Nov 15, 2018
How I Learned the Craft of Going on Dates with Girls
I have dated long enough to see a change, and I am still young enough to work at the craft.
I have dated long enough to see a change, and I am still young enough to work at the craft.
When Americans consume media that privileges white survival, what does it mean for which disasters earn our attention, our money, our likes, our grief?
Wong Kar-wai’s films showed me how to navigate that liminal space between tenderness and loneliness, connection and alienation, East and West.
Your stomach hurts because all you’ve eaten this week is frozen yogurt—but it is a hurt you can bear more than hunger.
I wanted to tell him that, if I could, I would give him my body to use however he saw fit. It meant nothing to me. If only bodies were like gloves you could peel off and lose.
If we’re going to spend so much time with suicide in pop culture, I do believe we are owed an honest reckoning with what ideation is, as well as depictions that are truthful rather than dangerous.
As my brain absorbed these other names, the colors seemed to shift. The names themselves were changing how I saw the colors.
Today tongzhi is seldom used in a political context, if ever: The Beijing LGBT center is called Beijing Comrade Center; 同志村, or comrade village, translates to gayborhood. So yeah, everyone knows what comrade really means—everyone except the president of China, apparently.
My codependency is always trying to convince me that it deserves to live. It asks me to keep the poison coming.
By day, he protected businesses from thieves and corrupt police. By night, he changed into sequined gowns to sing and dance in Rio de Janeiro’s cabarets.
When a new drug regime gave him a renewed lease of life, Morrison began to receive irate calls from the investor who’d bought over his insurance policies.
Marjorie Hillis's 1930s self-help bestseller, which celebrated women's happiness, met a strange fate in England.
“I needed preparation, not protection. I needed to see myself as a part of history.”
The paradox of blushing.
Tango is not a thing that can be done halfway. Neither, I learned, is memoir. You’re either all in, or you’re dishonest.
This Eid will not be Eid until I’ve spent time crying and laughing, describing the aromas of foods that are not here.
Holding on to our cultural foods and customs was a labor of love, but labor nevertheless. American Night provided a little respite.
“FOE!” he had yelled, when really, phở is more graceful than that.
Herring in Ukraine to fried whiting on my street. Melville to Jewish legend. How easily we eat fish caught from depths we don’t understand.
