May 27, 2021
A Gay Gaye Holud for Two Bengali Brides
Promiti Islam on queerness, Bengali-American identity, and the complexities of family acceptance,
Promiti Islam on queerness, Bengali-American identity, and the complexities of family acceptance,
I wondered: Who was I when I first formed this friendship?
I didn’t want it to make sense—to send my children away for who knows how long—but I did need them to survive. I needed to survive.
Distance, though it may be physically distancing, need not make a couple grow distant.
For a decade I’d tricked myself into believing I was happily married, never thinking there could come a time when the trick no longer worked.
I discovered breakdancing in that VHS time capsule, and that was as close as I’d ever get to a culture that did not exist where I lived.
Nora Feely on loss during the pandemic, chosen families, and the small but devastating things 2020 took away.
I was already in love with all my friends. But in my newfound singleness, I was falling in love with them more deeply.
I've long been taught that the appearance of a good marriage, not a good marriage necessarily, is the ultimate goal.
We were all looking for the exceptions; all of us. Our conversations about white people had by now become banal.
I wasn’t alone in this experience that had made me feel so isolated, so removed from everyone.
"Juice" had the type of lyrics that forced me out of my solitude, whether I wanted to be out of it or not.
Sharing clothes feels like sharing a secret, the same way being someone’s child does.
It goes like this: sit with the thought, don’t move your fingers, arms, legs, let it enter you, let it stay, let it leave.
Navigating the burdens of expectation as a married woman in Nigeria
Natural disasters have a terrible way of reminding us of our capacity for kindness, acting like a yardstick for our collective empathy or apathy.
“The reality is that training wheels aren’t meant to last. They exist to be discarded after use.”
Beyond love and compatibility, you have to commit to getting through all the joys and struggles that happen . . . enema-rriage.
An obsession with a Catholic saint and his relics made me think about the pieces of myself I had offered up to others.
