Until We All Have Voices
I lost my voice at fifteen, when it faded into adolescent memory.
“Aa-E-e-e-I-i-O-U and sometimes Y-i-i-ih.”
Jars of Clay please, please, please,
EEEeeee-eee-eeJesus, there’s a needle in my neck!—
Meet Joe Black
I love you
snap, snap, snap
Sarah Stankorb is an Ohio-based writer who covers politics, religion and women’s issues. Her articles and essays have appeared in publications including The New York Times, The Washington Post, Slate, Salon, CNNMoney, Longreads, The American Prospect and GOOD Magazine. She's on Twitter @sarahstankorb.
Enter your email address to receive notifications for author Sarah Stankorb
You have been added to the notification list for author Sarah Stankorb
More by this author
My parents are from the Rust Belt, words supposed to encapsulate the decay, the abandoned workplaces.
More in this series
I felt abandoned and alone. I was told that it was at odds with what mothers should feel, do feel, after childbirth.
Obtaining a perfect grasp of masculinity was not my goal when I decided to transition, but I certainly did feel the pressure to try.