“Accommodations are things that we need, and deserve, in order to lead our lives. But they’re treated—we are treated—like we’re trying to pull one over on the rest of society.”
For me, distinctions between light and dark have dissolved as my blindness has worsened. I do not experience blindness as darkness or blackness.
Remain forever hungry, or enjoy the tried-and-true? Sometimes, I learned, it’s okay to double down on the life you have.
What, exactly, are the building blocks that make a fairy tale a fairy tale? And who—or what—might be making them in the future?
When we dress up, when we experiment, sometimes it’s because we are trying to discover who we are. But sometimes it’s because we already know and have nothing to hide.
My parental separation was vastly less traumatic than what is happening to children at the border. But this narrative lives inside me.
Hafu carries insinuations of otherness; of not belonging, but being fetishized. How do I carry this name and this history at once?
I’ve been wondering what my edges really are, and finding they don’t exist. I feel myself shimmer with every conflicting thought.
Not knowing happens to all mothers, and to all of us—if we are breathing, we are without escape from things we can’t know.
In fairy tales, the only good mother is a dead one.