When I walk to the train, my shadow falls wider, and I like that I’m taking up more space.
When I first meet a client, I usually remove whatever wig I happen to be wearing, and the tension settles.
There’s a part of me that is overwhelmed by the possibilities, by the fact that I finally look the way I used to only imagine I might.
Gramsie wasn’t being a snob. Or, she wasn’t just being a snob. She was trying to school me.
We fall prey to letting writing become a passion, cooking a hobby, teaching a service. We must rethink how we value labor.
And then there were the wigs: exercises in risk-taking, rejections of my boring and shame-consumed past self.