I've always had something to prove. I’m short. Left-handed. Texan. It’s not something I think much about because I inherited my mother’s confidence. The interesting thing about confidence is that it doesn’t buffer you against very specific, very particular kinds of insecurities. Sometimes they’re rooted in things you can see, at other times they catch … Continue reading Motivation
I wasn't sure if I believed in marriage. It was antiquated. It was oppressive. It was rooted in the myth of female subjectivity. Rooted in a historical legacy of woman as property: capable of, needing to be, and wanting to be owned. It was the aspiration of overzealous evangelicals, cloaked in insincere holiness, in inauthentic … Continue reading Before The I Do: Love Is Not a Marriage
I almost drowned during volleyball practice in high school. I can’t remember if it was junior or senior year, but I remember how it started. We had a new coach that year, one who loved workouts and weight training. Partly because we were young and partly because we were lazy, her presence wasn’t a welcome … Continue reading Day 2, Week 43: Find the Bottom
I was six when my grandmother passed away, so I don’t remember much about her. What I can piece together is vague and, because of its lack of specificity, unsatisfying. I know that she had a large family and that she was one of just a few girls in a house dominated by brothers. I … Continue reading Sometimes They Come Back
Back in February I flew to Chicago for a friend's wedding. I was embarrassed that I couldn't afford the trip, but honored to be a bridesmaid. I wouldn't dare, couldn't dare cancel-- under any circumstances. In the past few years the bride had become like a sister to me: an inspiration who never set limits … Continue reading Save Tonight
When I was white, it wasn’t on purpose. It wasn’t intentional. It started because I was a square peg coveting circles. It started because I stuck out everywhere, even when I didn’t want the attention. Even when race and gender didn’t play a role. I just didn’t seem to belong anywhere. About seven years ago … Continue reading Black On Both Sides
My mother used to make our clothes when we were younger. In fifth grade my favorite was a black and green checkered pattern two-piece. The top fit like a suit jacket with box shoulders and mid-length sleeves. The bottoms were shorts that swam past my knees. Whenever I’d wear it, I’d get permission to wear … Continue reading Save Tonight.