sex
A Good Chat, a Good Chap: Writing About Alive People
One of the many things that I laugh at myself about is that I’m 32. There’s really no call for me to be writing a memoir. I’ve got no business. I don’t think it would matter what I was working on, I’d feel like I had no business writing it. Another thing that gives me […]
A Shower With My Sister: 2004
I was pregnant. I was also unwed, reading The Scarlet Letter, and really knowing what an utter turd ball Dimmesdale is. It was near the holidays, and I was still “seeing” the fetus’s father. But not seeing him in the forever way, in the “we’re in this mess together” way. I visited home for Christmastime […]
Santa’s Penis: 1989
I am probably eight years old. We are at Rehoboth Beach in one of the many junk shops where we purchased two hermit crabs earlier in the week: one for me, one for my brother, with whom I have stopped bathing since he noted the first sprouts of pubic hair as I held a contortionist’s […]
The Misogynist Rhetoric Runs Deep: 1980 – present
This is the beginning of a piece about sexual assault: It is deep inside me, a sliver of an idea, an idea that I have tried to banish by reading feminist criticism, by performing in The Vagina Monologues, by reading those sad, captioned photos online that have rape victims holding white signs with handwritten quotations […]
