The Saturday Rumpus Essay: Opening the Hump
The trick is to pinpoint the time of the cycle, not to try to solve the mystery in the undertow. And to understand that everything needs time; you have to position yourself, warm up.
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Christianity
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The Rumpus Interview with Yaa Gyasi
Yaa Gyasi discusses her debut novel Homegoing, growing up in Alabama, the multiplicity of black experiences, the legacy of slavery, and her writing process.
The Rumpus Interview with Garrard Conley
Garrard Conley, author of the new memoir Boy Erased, discusses growing up in the deep South, mothers, writing for change, and political delusions.
(K)ink: Writing While Deviant: Jera Brown
I wanted to uncover the nest of wires comprising my gender identity and describe its complicated mass.
Mary Wept over Sex Worker’s Rights
At The Believer, Shannon Tien caught up with Chester Brown, graphic novelist and author of the newly released Mary Wept Over the Feet of Jesus, which Tien describes as “essentially a…
The Conversation: Jeremy Clark and Thiahera Nurse
I’m thinking about the difference between “I stay somewhere” and “I live somewhere.”
The Rumpus Review of The Revenant
On its surface, The Revenant is a story about revenge and survival. On a deeper level, it’s about how those two motivations factor into a generational battle between the (God-like) forces of nature and industry—a sort of perverted Armageddon.
Do You Eat Pork?: Identity Politics in the Borderlands
The ethnic conflict wears me down. I am tired of being put in boxes, tired of explaining why I don’t fit. I sleep less and less.
Marilynne Robinson on Being an American
When Christians abandon Christian standards of behavior in the defense of Christianity, when Americans abandon American standards of conduct in the name of America, they inflict harm that would not…
Holding Evangelicals Accountable
Growing up in a slew of Evangelical churches, I saw this system of governance deployed to handle anything from adultery to domestic violence to pedophilia. And in each instance, this…
My Sister’s Legs
Because that’s how it is with sisters. You are them. You are not them. You are broken shards from the same pane of glass, each reflecting a different light.
