McBride has said that she wants this book to be read fast, letting it wash over you, but the struggle to make sense and to fill in the unsaid is hard to resist....more
Posts Tagged: domestic violence
Over at Buzzfeed, Leigh Stein paints a portrait of two lovers before the fall:
Jason and I met in 2007, at an audition for a tragedy. I was 22 and wanted the role of Medea. He was 18 and didn’t know what the play was about.
My cousin and I are in matching dresses with purple buttons, lavender yarn in our braids. Our mothers take us to Sears Portrait Studio, where we sit together in front of a marbled blue sky. I’m into it, all of it....more
Domestic violence is so common in the United States—every 9 seconds a woman is assaulted—it rarely makes headlines....more
When a doctor examines a woman, it is a moment of acute vulnerability. And it lasts until she is sitting up and fully clothed. It lasts until she gathers herself and leaves, stepping back into the “normal” world and her place within it....more
Television can be better than most things, always....more
On a darkened street in Prague, an older man assaults a younger woman, while an American teacher–safe in her apartment above–watches from the window. More than a decade later, Megan Stielstra remembers, interrogating accountability, time and language....more
Taylor’s arms are around me and I haven’t yet realized that the first boy I’ve ever loved is teaching me how to hate....more
I met my friends in San Francisco, and I felt safe. I kept thinking – so curiously! – that I hoped he was okay. How could someone be so angry at whoever loved him? How must it feel to hate being loved, and then to have the person that loved you run away in fear?
Things move quickly in Tbilisi, when they move at all. The haggling takes ten minutes—the rent holds steady, but Dato will replace the washing machine and install wireless internet throughout the ezo—and when it is over, we drink....more
I was stronger. By far I was the stronger of us both. A ballerina’s punch could’ve broken your nose, but I held back. We danced around the room like two tiny sparrows pecking at a fresh worm....more
The only time I can stand the sight of the bouquet of bullshit is early in the morning, before I flip on the lights. In the dark their perfection is only imagined, not confirmed by sight. This eases the edges like a pain pill dulls the healing muscles around the site of my incision....more
“Nothing links up, nothing makes sense, there’s only feelings and actions as you’re lost to something bigger than yourself. There is no cause. In that way, and perhaps in that way only, it’s like love.”
Conner Habib writes a beautiful blog entry on the complexities of a past love and domestic violence....more