Jun 18, 2018
The Stepmother or the Saint: How Fairy Tales Depict the Different Facets of Motherhood
In fairy tales, the only good mother is a dead one.
In fairy tales, the only good mother is a dead one.
As my mother loses the ability to remember, I find myself playing with my own memory.
Sea sponges lack heart, lungs, and the ability to move. They perform their ancient tasks because they must.
Breadmaking made me feel purposeful, instead of feeling as if I scarcely had control over anything.
When Etty wrote to herself, I heard her speaking to me, and I took her words to heart.
Most time capsules are enclosed underground, but this one faces the world.
When love and femininity are intertwined, only some of us are expected to do the job of loving.
This Eid will not be Eid until I’ve spent time crying and laughing, describing the aromas of foods that are not here.
“I think of McCarthy and ‘The Group,’ giving me language to understand myself before I even knew that’s what I needed.”
Love is born in the quiet ways we reveal ourselves; how we notice and love our partners when they take on new, surprising forms.
Maybe telling ourselves we’re balanced, that we’re in control, is almost as good as the real thing.
Sometimes I still think about my suits and the life I could have had. Now I work for myself, and my standard uniform is jeans and a T-shirt.
“As a young woman, I was rarely in control of my body or my mind. I had hungers like snakes wildly contorting from my head.”
Platforms like Facebook already act as mediums between the living and deceased.
“There is a saying in book collecting: You only regret the books you don’t buy.”
Fitzgerald was ground down, I imagine, consumed by how to take care of her family. This didn’t make her any less the thinker, writer, reader, that she was.
“We have become so good at seeing our environment—our planet and the people upon it—as a rolling scroll of film.”
On the thin line between fairy tales and real-life horror stories, and how we survive.
Holding on to our cultural foods and customs was a labor of love, but labor nevertheless. American Night provided a little respite.
I was embarrassed each time I got out my camera.
