Oct 13, 2020
How Did Vicks VapoRub Become Every Brown Person’s Cure-All?
Maybe these home remedies aren’t just tricks or distractions. Maybe they are insistences on our well-being.
Maybe these home remedies aren’t just tricks or distractions. Maybe they are insistences on our well-being.
I couldn't afford to live on academic wages, so I became a dominatrix. But after Covid-19, the risks became too great.
Nora Feely on cancer, facing her fears by naming them, and navigating a world filled with sharks
I decided to try to find a more complete scientific narrative about trauma instead of accepting damage as a foregone conclusion.
Why can’t the abled world fit into our world?
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?
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.
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.
It was as if I needed a third surgery, a reconstruction. I needed the surgeon to rebuild what he tore out.
She sings and speaks in lewd riddles, mourning her father’s untimely death and her abandonment by Hamlet, her lover.
Though I couldn’t articulate it at the time, I somehow knew that both relief and release were no longer optional. They were necessities.
I recall a 2016 headline that warned, ‘Orangutans face complete extinction within ten years.’ Nash will be thirteen in 2026.
I posed the question to her, earnestly, seriously: If given the choice, would she rather gain weight or would she rather die?
Obtaining a perfect grasp of masculinity was not my goal when I decided to transition, but I certainly did feel the pressure to try.
I do not believe in a soul but these past six months of illness, I am guilty of dislocating, of clinging to magic. Of wanting relief. Of being sick of being sick.
What I forgot, for years and years, were the details of what my body experienced at the time. But my body did not forget.
I learned that kind of hard-won glamour; that we should have beauty, however much the world wants to keep it from us.
I don’t recognize the future version of me the doctor describes. To remain myself, I must prove him wrong.
My relationship with food was a combination of deep love, reverence, and guilt—making it impossible for me to give it up.
The secret of the beauty of our bodies is slowly starting to get out, becoming less and less niche each day. And I hope it moves faster.
