My whole life I heard her sing. / I never heard her speak.
Discourses of compliance and metrics foreclose collective possibilities in reimagining approaches to justice and equity that are organized in care and love
She selected a single star on which to direct her attention. We are one light, she told herself.
While I was doing witness work around violence, I was also always living in a shadow space where I could be safer, where I could be protected, where I was known, where I could not be misread
I’m severe I’m severed I’m savior—
Does the decades-old NYC tradition of community patrolling keep city streets safer?
How performance and storytelling helps to nurse old wounds and heal trauma.
“It feels like you have crossed a river you cannot cross back again”
Should you die my beloved / I will become a dyke / cut my hair to the scalp / demand history to know wrong / is done if you are taken from me
I tried to be a good daughter / and tell the right story to the guests, who were / always listening from their window across the road.
A Yemeni American activist’s take on the NYC mayoral race, political activity within the Yemeni community, and striking out on her own
I never understood the concept of wearing an outfit only once, by which I mean I’ve never thought about my own wedding.
shuffling their feet toward the family, idling by / the lip of a suddenly crowded room
What got you through those first few months of COVID? What comes to mind when I say, “body?” How will you live now?
The morning I was hit by a bicycle was the last time Ma asked me to do an errand before she left us to work in another country.
Discourses of compliance and metrics foreclose collective possibilities in reimagining approaches to justice and equity that are organized in care and love
Should you die my beloved / I will become a dyke / cut my hair to the scalp / demand history to know wrong / is done if you are taken from me
I tried to be a good daughter / and tell the right story to the guests, who were / always listening from their window across the road.
She selected a single star on which to direct her attention. We are one light, she told herself.
A Yemeni American activist’s take on the NYC mayoral race, political activity within the Yemeni community, and striking out on her own
While I was doing witness work around violence, I was also always living in a shadow space where I could be safer, where I could be protected, where I was known, where I could not be misread
I’m severe I’m severed I’m savior—
I never understood the concept of wearing an outfit only once, by which I mean I’ve never thought about my own wedding.
Does the decades-old NYC tradition of community patrolling keep city streets safer?
shuffling their feet toward the family, idling by / the lip of a suddenly crowded room
How performance and storytelling helps to nurse old wounds and heal trauma.
“It feels like you have crossed a river you cannot cross back again”
What got you through those first few months of COVID? What comes to mind when I say, “body?” How will you live now?
The morning I was hit by a bicycle was the last time Ma asked me to do an errand before she left us to work in another country.