What Happens to Our Numbers When We Die?
When I search for my father, I feel his numbers. Here’s a house number on my friend’s street that mimics the first few digits of my father’s phone. Here, at the 7/11, my receipt totals the amount of the last four digits of his SSN.
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When Americans consume media that privileges white survival, what does it mean for which disasters earn our attention, our money, our likes, our grief?
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The racist assumption that women of color are hired as faculty because of our identities rather than our credentials can have a serious impact on our careers.
I do not have flesh; I only have ghosts. In this story, the dead are only what I say they are. Does this make them less real?