Essays
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Hunger
I never remembered the significance of that Beatitude, only that hunger— for God, for food—was part of the equation.
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Synanthropia
The mouse moves casually, irrationally, like it is curious. It does not see me yet. It is fat and grey like a mutt is grey. The scream is unlocked, some pre-language gesture at speech. I investigate its texture. Not guttural…
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The Lesbian Erotic Poem: Eileen Myles and Gertrude Stein
Whereas queerness itself is the resistance to sexual oppression, queer poetry is an arm, an extension and realization of resistance enacted with language. Employing Lorde, “the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house” means that a lesbian poem aimed…
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Knott’s Berry Farm, 1996
At thirteen, we were not afraid to speak aloud what we already knew—we would rather die than let them see the secrets of our bodies exposed. They had taught us enough about hiya, that we feared the weight of its…
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Eurotrash as Nonfiction
I was pleasantly surprised to learn that much of the music I enjoyed incorporated some component of nonfiction. Emboldened by a breakneck beat, Eurotrash reserves space for societal commentary through the lens of the speaker’s experiences. Translations by fans on…
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Neighborly
I met Leeanner and Ed six years prior when I bought my house in east Austin. I had saved up the down payment working tech jobs I hated, and I was excited to nest. I told myself it was a…
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We Never Needed Each Other
“I have wondered if my mother’s unhappiness is rooted in having three daughters, which in a traditional Chinese family meant my parents tried unsuccessfully three times for a son. I have also wondered if my mother’s unhappiness, evidenced by her…
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Grief Makes Nothing Happen
We all recognize certain types of loss. If we’re fortunate, we take bereavement leave from our jobs, perform the pre-made grieving rituals. But we also know these aren’t the only losses, nor are they always the worst ones. Surely you…
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Stick a Clock in Me I’m Pregnant
The subject of when to have kids haunted Matt and me for about one year. For me, it always came down to career success. I couldn’t imagine being happy as a mother without publishing at least one book. I’d resent…
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Harpooning the Self: “Moby-Dick,” Fatphobia, and the Monomaniacal Pursuit of Control
But in our culture, it must be subdued, extracted, and of course sold. Their podcast has saved me in numerous ways these past years. Each morning, driving to my job at a small high school in the deep South, I…
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More Human: On Science Fairs, Artificial Intelligence, and Educational Experiments
My first-year composition students come to me much like that little dot in my sixth-grade science fair demonstration. They’ve spent years bumping around on a grid their teachers keep rearranging, and they’ve learned some things about how to navigate it.…
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My Personal Essay
There is an undercurrent to learning, a movement below the surface activity that pulls in the opposite direction. Sometimes a rip develops, a powerful surge that can carry you or drown you or maybe it generates just off to the…