The Rumpus Mini-Interview Project: Forsyth Harmon
“Yes: in terms of an authorial presence, I tried to tread lightly.”
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Posts Tagged: cutting
Weird and Grotesque and Disturbing: Talking with Elizabeth Gonzalez James
Elizabeth Gonzalez James discusses her debut novel, MONA AT SEA.
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The Fluidity of Language and Identity: Melissa Faliveno’s Tomboyland
When was the first time you remember seeing yourself in a book you were reading?
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The Cost of Liberation: Patsy by Nicole Dennis-Benn
Patsy’s imagined freedom in America, she discovers almost immediately, was an illusion.
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Fields of Light
Light reflects differently off near and faraway objects. It’s all about the light.
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The Mania of Queer Desire: In Praise of Fever Ray’s Plunge
I remember driving a bird mad once.
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Blood Falls: On Self-Harm and Making Pain Visible
Always present and never heard, like the pain I feel but don’t know how to share.
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Inborn Autistic Disturbances of Affective Contact
Maybe you were whistling before you could talk, too.
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ENOUGH: He Could Kill Me
A Rumpus series of work by women and non-binary writers that engages with rape culture, sexual assault, and domestic violence.
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Becoming Bodies
[W]e wanted something different from each other’s bodies than what was actually there, which might be why our bodies sometimes came together.
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Voices on Addiction: Shame Is a Treble Hook
Shame is a treble hook that tells me that 1) I not only fail but am a failure, that 2) I not only damage people but I am damaged, and that 3) I not only lie but I am a lie.
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Peeping under the Goddamn Door: The Price of Empathy in S-Town
[F]or the first time, I really see the tradeoffs between privacy and honest-to-god, up-close empathy.
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Back to the Places I’ve Left
“No one knows how to handle it,” I tell her, but I can see she’s angry and I’m speaking into the wind.
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The Saturday Rumpus Essay: No Wound
Maybe I can touch it and show it to you. If I convince you, we can call it real. And then perhaps it will be.
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The Saturday Rumpus Essay: On Madness and Mad Men
In my eight years as a Mad Men fan, the series has repeatedly prompted me to reflect on parenting.
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Albums of Our Lives: Nirvana’s Nevermind
The first time I listened to Nevermind, I sat on the bathroom floor with the liner notes and jewel case open on my lap.
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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.
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Live Through This
What American teenager hasn’t wanted to run away from an unhappy home?
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