My fourth column for Catapult, about searching for community and likeness, is live: “That’s when I realized how deeply I had been searching for more than a label to bridge the disconnect I felt. I had been searching for others like us. Perhaps, longing to see myself in the story, hungry to find a place […]Read more "My Search for Community"
I wrote about getting my son’s genetic test results for Catapult.Read more "My Second Column for Catapult"
My new column for Catapult, “What Genes Can’t Tell Us,” went live this morning. I’d love for you to check it out.Read more "My New Column for Catapult"
Sometimes life is funny. Like when Elie Mae tells me she can’t go to bed because her baby needs to potty. Me: What in thee world? Elie: The baby feels like she has to poop. Me: Elie, WHAT in thee world?! Elie (talks to her baby): I’m gonna be sad if you fall in. Sometimes […]Read more "The Words I’ve Needed"
We have borne the burden of proof. Buried it. Our bullet-ridden bodies not enough to poke holes in your privilege. Years ago, The Elders held picnics. Pack a lunch; kill a darky. Crunch a carrot between your teeth as his bones roast. His body s w i n g s… Then still. It’s Oprah’s Favorite […]Read more "To The Un-Indictable"
I had a dream the other night. A nightmare, really, in which I received a phone call from Paul that broke my chest wide open, as if my ribs were but papier-mâché, my lungs a dangling diorama. “Do you know where Elie is?” he asked. “Tell me you’re kidding,” I said. “Isn’t she with you?” […]Read more "On How to Feel"
Truly, I am sorry. I hope you were not in a meeting with your CEO or describing your bowels to the internist or standing still on one foot, clutching your prayer beads, as the scorpion backed away. I hope you were not, with great anticipation of all the feels, consummating your marriage or defending your […]Read more "I’m Sorry My Son FaceTimed You from a Bathroom Stall in Target"