Let’s face it, crying is a thing that happens in grad school. If you’re like me, it happens frequently. Rather than being ashamed, be prepared!
I smell something in Brett Kavanaugh’s confirmation hearings. Do you know what it is? It’s fear. Kavanaugh, Trump, McConnell, Graham, Grassley: they reek of fear. They’re scared shitless because the structure of white male domination is crumbling before their very eyes, on their watch. That’s right, we are witnessing the death throes of the white male power structure. This bunch of he-man woman haters knows that even if Kavanaugh gets confirmed to the Supreme […]
I am two seminar papers and one e-portfolio away from finishing my first year of graduate school, and that seems significant. But while reflecting on all the fulfilling, thrilling, liberating, and life-altering stuff I’ve learned this year, I can’t help but think about all the stuff I still don’t know. In fact, I’m beginning to think that the point of education is to teach you things you didn’t know that you didn’t know. I never […]
I was eighteen years old on April 20, 1999, the day of the Columbine High School massacre. The world stopped. People were stunned—and in pain—for days, weeks. The story was the lead on every news show, in every newspaper, for days, weeks. The footage of Pat Ireland falling out of a second-story window into the arms of two police officers is forever burned into my consciousness. This was a national tragedy. More children died last […]
Every time I sit down to write this blog post another sexual assault story breaks. What follows are drafts I’ve started and stopped in an effort to document the scandals (plural) as new facts come to light.
It’s that time again, people. You know what I’m talking about. Somewhere there is a pumpkin latte brewing; shoe leather is being brushed and polished; and an argyle sweater is being resurrected from its storage box. That’s right: it’s fall, baby! And though I do love the marvelous array of color that fall brings, and my breath, in clouds, floating off on the crisp breeze, nothing says fall to me like the prolonged drone of […]
First, allow me to offer you a window into my world: there is an upside down footstool in the middle of my living room. No idea how it got that way. There is a used, bloodied Band-Aid on top of the upside down footstool. Such is my world.