I am attached to the lie about why I didn't get my PhD. It's a pet lie. In my head it looks something like this: And it's more comfortable than the truth, which stings a little and is, well, embarrassing--as truths can sometimes be. The lie goes like this: I'd reached a point in my... Continue Reading →
Summer descended on Atlanta. The air is thick, close, heavy. The sun shines gloriously, deceptively beautiful enough that you believe you need to shimmy into its radiance. Until you do and the heat sucks your breath right from your lungs. The reprieve of the shade soothes, though. And when a breeze deigns to grace Atlanta,... Continue Reading →
A few years ago, in the middle of the most heated, long-simmering, agonizing public situation I’ve ever been party to, a woman lobbed this doozy at me: You aren’t God, you know. My initial response skewed heavy toward the snark (in my own head… or more accurately, much later in the shower—which is where I... Continue Reading →
At 7 years old, my daughter, has already attended seven civil rights marches (if you count the five Pride parades she’s attended—and I do. Oh, I do.). I don’t come from a long line of activists. In fact, my parents always seem (not so secretly) appalled that I let Jane march through the streets holding signs, chanting, and generally being a rabble-rouser. But here’s the thing: Jane was born into activism.
We’ve entered the season of snark with Jane. And, dear God, it is wearing me down.
Our daughter’s start in the world was less than traditional--conceived with donor sperm and born to lesbian parents. Then, when Jane was 4, her Bobby (Jane’s non-biological parent), transitioned from female to male. Que the crash course in gender, acceptance, and celebrating who we are—even if who we are makes us a little different.
We took Jane to see Black Panther on Sunday. (Trust me...This is just another in a string of questionable parenting choices.) In our house, we are all about REPRESENTATION and EMPOWERMENT (and, yeah, I get excited enough when I talk about these things to warrant all caps). I wanted her to see a black superhero... Continue Reading →
All my life, I was taught to curry favor with men. That’s the honest to God truth.
I walked in, freshly pressed in a white shirt, crisp jeans and my beloved cowboy boots. My hair, pulled up in a clip, projected a no-nonsense image. Or, at least, I hoped it did. I wanted to be at the top of my game for this meeting. I pulled back one of the folding chairs,... Continue Reading →