In the ‘Sex and the City’ reboot, Carrie Bradshaw’s arc is one of the most truthful depictions of mourning I’ve ever seen on TV.
While kids my age were falling in love with the fantastical, I did not. I wanted to read about rich white girls behaving badly.
Like rojak, our fluid and hybrid identities, I believe, make us more accepting as a community. Mixture is celebrated instead of shunned.
“Howl’s Moving Castle” and “The Legend of Korra” are about protagonists living with magic and fighting for the fate of the world. To me, they’re also metaphors for dynamic disability.
The Black leading ladies of superhero media haven’t always gotten the best deals. But like much of the comic book–inspired world, one change could shape the mythos for decades to come.
Before testosterone, few people ever saw me cry. Now tears come in hot floods, as though some tender, unlanguaged creature has surfaced inside me.
Many times I could have said the same as Gawain, terrified in the face what was to come, “I’m not ready. I’m not ready yet.”
The tidy linearity we’re used to leaves little room for revolution.
Nora and Iris West-Allen’s fraught relationship proves that even we daughters often expect superheroics from our very human Black mothers.
Madison Montgomery never stops performing. She is at once person and persona.