I am eating fluffy, bright yellow scrambled eggs littered with small cut pieces of fresh tomato, with sliced banana on the side when the first notification appears. I carefully sip the hot espresso I made before I swipe open the app. It’s 10 a.m. or so here, which means it’s 6 a.m. or so, there.… Continue reading Tis my season.
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Sorry, Sarah.
I pause and kick the broken asphalt just in front of the filthy right toe of my Asics. I need to change to a new pair, but I’m resistant because it’s still such shitty weather. Almost there, I think. Fucking asshole, I say into the foggy early morning air. What is bubbling inside of me… Continue reading Sorry, Sarah.
I like her teaching, too.
Melissa pats her caramel highlighted curls which perfectly fan out around her chartreuse fleece ear warmer. It’s unquestionably more expensive than the shitty Amazon purchased one I jammed on my head this morning. She is clearly uncomfortable. It wasn’t intentional on my part- to make her uneasy, but that’s also a part of me so… Continue reading I like her teaching, too.
A Day on Venus.
I’ve thought a lot about the way I navigate through the world. The way I often caveat or couch statements that I make. The way I offer apologies or concessions, to others, to myself, before it’s even necessary. The way I sidestep the thing I want to really say for fear of the reaction I… Continue reading A Day on Venus.
Happy Galantine’s Day, Devi.
I’ve named her Devi because she closely resembles a woman I knew in college. Her hair is jet black and the kind of wavy I admire-frizz free and giving off curling iron feels. I know she didn’t though, use a hair tool. It’s just her hair. I know that in the subconscious way she keeps… Continue reading Happy Galantine’s Day, Devi.
Filed Under…
Many women I know haven’t had toe-curling kisses down the nape of their neck, but many have felt the stomach-churning sensation of unwelcome, hot, sticky breath just under their ear. Many women I know haven’t been told that they’re breathtakingly beautiful, but many have been told that they’re fuckable. Many women I know haven’t felt… Continue reading Filed Under…
Let me be…
I think I’m just the worst mother, M says to me, while looking down at the shiny folds of her black, designer puffer coat. You do? I reply. This wasn’t really a question asked in earnest, but an invitation to revisit the statement. Picking at the worn cuticles on her ungloved hands, she continues, undeterred.… Continue reading Let me be…
The Teacher.
I was speaking to two young men yesterday who have been chosen to participate in a mentorship program I’m launching. I advised them that I didn’t choose a mentor for them yet, because I wanted it to be a participatory exercise. The explanation that I provided was that the best kind of mentor experiences grow… Continue reading The Teacher.
Let’s Change the Uniform.
I am standing overlooking a sea of men, men of all different shapes and sizes and ages. I imagine the Uber driver’s voice in my head, gravelly, with a touch of humor, asking about this “uniform.” My colleague and I advised him that it was unofficial, at best, but both left out the part that… Continue reading Let’s Change the Uniform.
We don’t have to pause- we can talk, actually.
I went to the eye doctor today. I have this thing going on that I don’t really understand other than in the purest form of irony, I’m running out of tears. Or maybe that’s the opposite of irony, because it feels like a given that I’d eventually hit a drought. Anyway, there was a nurse… Continue reading We don’t have to pause- we can talk, actually.
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