And somewhere in there, as my hands ached from the work, I began to grieve
In the ‘Beloved,’ ‘The Baby,’ and ‘Barbarian,’ Black women grapple with vengeful mothers and children. In my life, I’ve broken that cycle.
Learning I was autistic gave me insight into my childhood fixations and hurts, into how those things have stayed with me over the decades.
Though I estranged myself from my toxic family, their hold on my mind still needed to let me go. So I got on a plane and left.
I can’t give up the invisible labor of making “holiday magic” because that’s how I feel closest to my late mother.
Is Kate McCallister a “good mom”? That’s beside the point. Her example shows the shallowness of such standards: She loves her kid. She proves it.
All these self-styled experts online drown out the intuitive voice of the parent and sow doubt in every decision that they make.
I was not suspended in a timeless brine like my pickles. I was not a stoic javelin of cellulose waiting to strike a bored palette. My answers would not be in rigidity, in control.
I use his favorite David Attenborough shows to help me explain my climate activism
Anyone who has lost and subsequently gained weight back can tell you that you will be treated differently in real, material ways. The difference is at once alluring and painful.