In our seven years together, we’ve thrived on routine. We’ve done long-distance before, but never quite like this.
Beneath the veneer of desire and ambition lurks something darker—the grotesqueness of wealth and the violence it implies.
When I think about queer masculine pregnancy and parenting, I think about Sarah Connor in ‘Terminator 2: Judgment Day.’
This is what I became known for in acting class: old-lady drag.
The filmmaker’s retreat from the conventions of Socialist realism—patriotism, militarism, subservience—becomes a journey to locate the self outside the strictures of state ideology.
“Howl’s Moving Castle” and “The Legend of Korra” are about protagonists living with magic and fighting for the fate of the world. To me, they’re also metaphors for dynamic disability.
Many times I could have said the same as Gawain, terrified in the face what was to come, “I’m not ready. I’m not ready yet.”
Fifteen years after it premiered, ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ continues to teach ambitious young people that exploitation is the price you must pay for success.
What is lost in a story that chooses to make Brandy a princess and Whitney Houston a fairy godmother despite their Blackness, not because of it?
Can Black writing be seen as more than a product of our death and pain?
Without anywhere to talk about sex or process it, ‘Twilight’ offered an alternative space to unravel my own private desire.
I’ve found an unavoidable kinship with the Ducks. It could be, at least in my estimation, a quintessentially black American story.
She is the page on which the story is written. Her body is a crime scene, and the victim of the crime, and the perpetrator of a crime, all at once.