Sep 17, 2020
A Painting of Eve as a Brown Woman Brought Me Back to My Faith
When I looked at her, I simultaneously saw divinity, and myself.
When I looked at her, I simultaneously saw divinity, and myself.
There have always been people suffering from anti-Blackness. And May Ayim highlights the continuity of the Black experience—not only her own, but those before her as well.
Why can’t the abled world fit into our world?
Merlin’s poetic prose is so visual in the writing that many parts reminded me of a graphic novel.
I don’t know when I was born. I’ve stopped pretending that I do.
When your youth is marked so clearly, by a crisp sailor collar and the deep pleats of your skirt, everyone feels like they deserve a piece of it, of you.
If we had left Venezuela, it had to be because life in America was going to be better, but the BSC world didn’t seem inherently better—just different.
Just like plants, we inherit some traits from those who came before us, but when I spend time with my siblings I’m amazed by how different we are.
It isn’t my job to bear as much pain as I possibly can to prove that I am somehow worthy of becoming a mother. Why is it so hard to remember this?
Our first book club discussion was a learning experience.
Once a mixed-race fishing community, the island is now empty, showing the gap between the state’s history and what it professes to be.
It took about a year for me to understand the bulimia was an expression of my anger. A way to hurt my body and myself, and a desperate attempt to regain normalcy.
As an artist, Vu was looking for a way to represent personal history without feeling like she was “performing otherness.”
This was about protecting the new self growing its delicate way within me.
I know by worrying about a room of mostly white readers I undermine myself, but it’s become instinct. And, honestly, I just get tired.
What if we thought of emotional trauma the way we do physical: as a wide class of wounds whose healing is unpredictable, whose scars take different forms?
If the muffins had been good, we’d have eaten them and gone to bed. But the story of their catastrophic badness: that, we could forever savor.
I was already in love with all my friends. But in my newfound singleness, I was falling in love with them more deeply.
I participated in the betrayal of my face because it’s easy to do when your thoughts about beauty are colonized and your appearance is a battleground.
There is something freeing about being in a ballroom full of people singing about how we all deserve to feel a love that reverberates through the walls of our body.
