The Privilege of Having Soft Hands
My parents’ hands were the remnants of great struggle. Mine somehow remained untouched.
sine qua non
Slouching Towards BethlehemThe Sympathizer
More in this series
My family isn’t religious, but we have a saying that we do believe in my grandfather. And an essay he wrote about me reminds me to believe in myself.
I know by worrying about a room of mostly white readers I undermine myself, but it’s become instinct. And, honestly, I just get tired.