The history of the whole world can be told as the stories of conquerors and the conquered—the former consumed with thoughts of destiny and tyranny, the latter knowing only the persistence of time and the pure grit of bodies....more
Posts Tagged: mothers
In Episode 4 of The Rumpus Late Nite Poetry Show, Dave Roderick sits down with poet Rachel Zucker to talk about her latest collection, The Pedestrians, what makes for good comedy, and word associations....more
My mother died suddenly at a dining room table, in the middle of a wonderful meal, surrounded by a large, extended family that loved her. One minute she was completely immersed in the world—talking, laughing, eating—and the next minute she was gone....more
My mother’s body horrified me. Nine years old, I watched her dress. Her belly was rippled and sagged and scarred—a used-up bag of nothing....more
In middle school, “Yo Mama” jokes infuriated me. My mother was so Chinese she couldn’t eat a hamburger without pinching her nose. She was so Chinese she wore bamboo slippers.
In a stunning essay for the Michigan Daily, Carlina Duan writes about growing up as the child of Chinese immigrants in America....more
My daughter likes to bang her head off the floor. It makes a point—an especially guilt-tinged one, given that we had to get rid of our carpets due to a mold infestation, so now there’s no cushion between baby cranium and wood....more
He has no short-term memory and will probably never walk again on his own. He was twenty-five when he was incarcerated for larceny over $250 in 2005. His name is Paul....more
The headaches, my difficulty focusing, my specimen-daze, that floating island, my spastic, nervous heart—which are side effects from drinking, and which were inevitable?...more
This is the part of the birth story when the woman is supposed to tap into the primal strength of her ancestors, a pool with a hundred thousand years of depth…...more
They told my father three hours. Ideally, she would have needed to get to the hospital within three hours for the best chance of recovery from the stroke....more
For two days, I fight the story welling up in me, denying the itch of the burn, the angry redness biting at my skin. And then I wake up the third day and say to myself, “My mom was raped when she was my age. When she was twenty-seven.”...more
We frighten away boyfriends, lovers, strangers, and we do not mind, because we are together: together, we are glorious....more
We hope you were so busy taking your mamas out to brunch and showering them with love and appreciation that you simply had no time for The Rumpus this weekend.
We celebrated Mother’s Day with two very different interviews that ended up being the same in many ways....more