Their judgment is clear every time, and my aunt is the only one who is bold enough to say it with her chest: I am a bad mom.
The past two years have solidified my view that America may never change enough for me.
I stopped wearing pants in the name of physical comfort, with the emotionally uncomfortable result that I now present as a woman who wears dresses all the time.
I was agitated by the sensation that saying yes to everything and no to nothing, rising to the occasion, going above and beyond, was supposed to be the worthiest thing about me.