Essays

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…

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…

“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…

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…

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.…

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…

I write in the margins of existence. Between shifts. During bus rides. In the quiet hours when my neighbors finally stop screaming or blaring out the trash they call music. My laptop’s held together with duct tape and stubborn hope,…

In Tierney’s shows, hockey runs on two blades: muscle and mouth. You need the athletic strength, speed, and skill — and if an opponent asks you, “Nice onesie, does it come in mens?” You need to be able to shoot…