Writing about identity is a pressure for me as a person of color, a queer person, and a queer person of color. So often it...
07.122018September 10, 2019
Writing about identity is a pressure for me as a person of color, a queer person, and a queer person of color. So often it...
The first time I knew I had a body was when my best friend Veronica looked at me and screamed. I was four years old,...
The story of my father lives in my body as precise as clockwork. The story of my father during summer is an easier one to...
“I swear, you will wake— & mistake these walls for skin.” —from: Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong, by Ocean Vuong I don’t like to think...
I began writing as a zinester sixteen years ago, just days after I ran away from my abusive childhood home. I discovered zines, self-produced publications...
Pass, v. I. To excel or surpass 1. trans. a. To exceed in excellence or worthiness; to surpass in some activity, quality, or degree. The...
It hurts when even my sisters look at me in the street with cold and silent eyes. I am defined as other in every group...
Most of the jokes I hear about Alabama from my Northern liberal friends have nothing to do with the gorgeous, fierce resistance that I see...
Been wanting to get a haircut. Maybe clip my nails. Perhaps give away a toe or two. A hand, then the arm. Just give it...
You are on a beach. The beach is beautiful, with bright orange sand and an olive green ocean lapping against the shore. The whole sky...