We all knew we were broken.
I could not see beyond the horizon, during those youthful summers, to what will confront me in the future.
It’s something I find myself doing more and more: watching others, observing. Trying to understand the social cues, the expectations, how people talk to each other and respond. Trying to learn a script I was never given.
There is deep shame in being unwanted. There is deeper shame in wanting to be chosen again.
When I run the second stress test I’m running for my life.
Like many lost weekends, mine started on Thursday. I was twenty-six years old by now, co-producing a Swahili hip-hop festival in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.
I remember the devastation of my son’s birth, an easy birth I am told, my body surrendering just how it should. But still, it ended in our separation.
Don’t ask her what she means when she says you or your siblings ‘don’t have enough Asian.’
There’s a certain hot rage when a man shows up at the door to take your mother on her first date since the divorce. The moment he says, “Hi, I’m […]
Her shape—long, rotund, dark gray except where damp sand smears her pelt—is the first mass we see at Tunnels Beach on Kauai, Hawai’i.