“That instinct, to lie or protect the men who abuse us, is hard to explain. It comes from being afraid of the person who is abusing you, of course, but also afraid for the changes that honesty will force. We don’t want to endanger the men who hurt us, because we love them and we don’t think we can live without them… If anything, my identification as a feminist made the idea of disclosing the abuse even more difficult, because I thought it was something I was letting happen to me and it embarrassed me.”
“In fact, the strain of hiding my illness would likely have caused me to break down with even more frequency. How would she have coped with those dysphoric, hallucination-ridden breakdowns — and how would I have dealt with her uneducated reactions?”
In church that morning, I didn’t see any of that. Instead, I saw the tears you shed the first time you saw me after telling your son that I was spitting in the face of God.
The first ever Bisexual Awareness Week created space to organize resources, initiate connections and speak about our experiences in a new way.
“That year I spent a lot of time watching the goats and cows eat grass. Mostly because I found their single-minded focus incredibly comforting. Also because our fences were shoddy and I had to figure out how they were constantly escaping. I was learning to care for animals like I was learning to listen to myself: in silent and slow observation.”
“That risks making a wound of my blackness. My blackness is not a wound; it is a gift I’m trying, consciously and earnestly, to understand and protect and witness.”
“The fellowship said I was thinking too hard about it, that I was stubborn, and that I was not willing to admit that there were forces bigger than me. What they didn’t get was that I did believe there were forces beyond my control, powers bigger than me. Let’s just take gravity as one of many examples. I just don’t believe that praying to gravity or the radiator or the ocean would cure me of my alcoholism.”
“Sometimes I think I am invincible and sometimes I convince myself that this is something. But I’ve met plenty of girls before and I’ve only kissed her twice.”
The absolutely true autobiography of a liar.
I can’t tell you about the head or what it has “notes” of. But I can tell you about some beers I really enjoyed, a few I didn’t, and the things that happened along the way.
A girl spends 19 days in rural Tennessee with her girlfriend and her family, takes a million pictures, then tells her whole life story in just under 4,000 words. What’s not to love?
“At 27, I came out as Korean-American. I was always Korean, of course. I checked the “Asian” box when filling out a form. My ethnicity was written on my face in the shape of my eyes and my small flat nose. But until a few years ago, it wasn’t an identity I felt connected to. There were many identities that came first — poet, bisexual, queer, feminist, activist, organizer, fattie, vegan. Being Korean was a fact, but not an identity.”
“When I was thirteen years old I began starving myself. I did so, in short, because I wanted so desperately to be thin. And by thin, I mainly meant white.”
“Almost immediately Ayries is convulsing, and getting red in the face, and moaning in a way I’ve never heard a lady moan before. Little short bursts of air. She is making spirit fingers in the way I imagine they are meant to be done.”
So, what’s up with upholstered vests?
“We partied during the week and met up between classes, but brunch was where we let our queer identities free in a way that was more natural and less defensive compared to who we were in public.”
“The path of least resistance is to write off 50 Shades of Grey as harmless fluff, but frankly, after editing over one hundred novels full of distortions and abuse, I don’t think I could respect myself if I did so.”
“For the first time in my life, a teacher calls me out on sleeping in class when I’ve been awake the whole time. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened earlier, because kids have made fun of my eyes since preschool.”
I got a taste of something I had never known — shopping in the men’s department afforded my body the opportunity to take up the amount of space it actually takes up.
This is a story about the family that I lost and found and almost found at various The Cheesecake Factory restaurants across America.