Or how I came to fall in love with my husband and start our family on solid ground
I had hoped, when I married Larry 20 years ago, that one of our children would inherit his magnificent hair, so voluptuous and appealing that just putting your fingers in it communicated a sense of abundance, of largesse. But none did. Rose has medium-thick hair to which she periodically applies a henna paste to in order to color it red. It isn’t curly, but when she came home after a year at UC Berkeley last summer, it had metamorphosed into chin-length dreadlocks that emanated off of her head like a white girl’s afro. In one or two places, she had fastened a shell. Eddy’s hair is dusty brown and lank. Michael is a blonde Arab. …
How old footage of my family helped me see my mother through a new lens
We’d had the big white box of old 8mm and Super 8mm family movies for 40 years, handing it off from sister to sister after Mom died of breast cancer in 1975, each one of us promising to digitize or otherwise take care of these precious family heirlooms. No one had.
Then one summer in Santa Cruz, at the little beach house Mom had bought with an unexpected windfall the year she died, we set up an old projector my husband had found on eBay, along with a portable screen. …
And why the #BigLie that the presidential election was stolen must be debunked to preserve democracy in the U.S.
All German schoolchildren learn about the “Stab in the Back” myth that spread throughout the country after World War I. Much like the #BigLie that Donald Trump has been telling that he won the presidential election “in a landslide,” the “Stab in the Back” myth was made popular by the right wing and claimed that Germany hadn’t really lost World War I on the battlefield, but had been forced to capitulate by Jews, Communists, and Social Democrats.
The fact that the myth was obviously untrue didn’t diminish its popularity. …
Fascism feeds on insecurities and lies
Joe Biden has just taken office and already I’m dreaming big. Given the Capitol uprising Jan. 6, he has a clear mandate to deal with the lies and disinformation that proliferates on social and regular media, convincing almost half the population that crazy conspiracy theories like QAnon might be true.
It’s hard to understand how human beings of normal intelligence can believe a cabal of Satan-worshiping, pedophiliac cannibals led by Hillary Clinton is secretly running the country, while the selfish bully who occupied the White House for the past four years is the hero who will bring them to justice; or that the election was fraudulent without any evidence to prove it — just one dishonest and delusional man repeating a #BigLie over and over and over again. …
More than any other public space in my white life
I have some complaints about Medium. And I’ve read a lot more. But one thing this platform unequivocally gets right is it makes space for Black voices.
As a white woman who wants to live in a multicultural country where justice and opportunity are available to all, I’m surprised by how difficult it is for me to see and listen to Black Americans.
When I look at the front page of the New York Times, as I do every day, I see one Black face in a sea of white ones: Charles Blow — and he’s not there all the time. …
Nancy Pelosi is badassery personified
I love Nancy Pelosi right now. Third in line to the “throne” of the U.S. presidency, she’s the highest ranking politician who had the balls to stand up to “strongman” Trump multiple times over the past four years but most notably this week when she led the second impeachment of the president which so many across the aisle were too afraid (or craven or deluded) to vote for even after he endangered their lives.
To the ten Republicans who put their foot down at inciting a murderous mob to attempt to overturn a free and fair election that was verified by all 50 states, the DOJ, the Chief of Election Security, and individual judges in more than 50 court cases, I say THANK YOU for putting truth and country over self interest. …
Thirsty Work — Chapter 10
Two young women from California travel to New Orleans in search of redemption after the death of their mother. Carolee thinks she will show her little sister the world, but what they find in the barrooms of the French Quarter at Mardi Gras is more than they know how to handle, or could have imagined back home. This is the tenth chapter of my novel Thirsty Work.
It was worse inside than it looked through the window. Everything was covered with a greasy layer of dirt. But Cathy and I began to unload our bags and pile them on the sofa anyway, swept up in the ritual of arrival. “We can always move out again tomorrow,” I told myself. I could see there would be no way to talk Cathy out of staying that first night. Carl was helping her carry in her bundles. …
The adrenaline of constant outrage is like taking a drug
Last night I did myself a favor. I stopped reading the news and got off Twitter for a couple of hours, turning instead to a Sci Fi story about a depressed “murderbot” who seems to have autism (All Systems Red by Martha Wells). It was a good story and a great break. But this morning, I was back on the news feeds again, servicing my addiction to adrenaline.
I first became aware that outrage is addictive when I watched Matt Taibbi describe the history of Journalism and how we got to this place where every TV station in America is some version of partisan, not just Fox News. …
They are threatening our safety in our own home
Reading about FKA twigs suing Shia LaBeouf for domestic abuse, I realize that many of the techniques used by abusers to demoralize, weaken, harass, and control their victims are being used by President Trump and the GOP against American citizens.
I am currently feeling threatened and suffering psychological distress by the actions of powerful people in our government, and I think a multitude of American citizens feels the same. Can we sue?
I’m not being flip. The body that is supposed to protect us from dictators and fascists— Congress — is failing its duty, much like police mostly fail to prevent violence against women when three women a day are murdered by their intimate partners in the U.S. …
Thirsty Work — Chapter 9
Two young women from California travel to New Orleans in search of redemption after the death of their mother. Carolee thinks she will show her little sister the world, but what they find in the barrooms of the French Quarter at Mardi Gras is more than they know how to handle, or could have imagined back home. This is the ninth chapter of my novel Thirsty Work.
Cathy took half the time Carolee did in the shower, then threw on some clean clothes before they went down to the motel diner to eat, where they were relieved to see no sign of the desk clerk. The place was almost empty. A very drunk or very tired man snored over his coffee at the counter. A bored looking young woman sat behind the cash register chewing gum. Cathy ordered a hamburger. …
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