Latest Posts

I Don’t Hate You, Not Anymore

It’s hard to hate you because really, I feel bad for you. It must not be easy to push people away constantly, to be someone who sees other people as place-fillers. All of this is only preventing you from realizing that at the root of it all, you’re alone.

When You Grow Up Mixed Race

My father’s ability to allow the comments to slide off his back easily has made my mother blind to the racism. He has learned to not care about what is said; he distances himself from it and laughs it off. I do not have this ability.

When I’m With Him, I Think Of You

On a Saturday night, when I’m lying in his arms, I note that he chose the same side of the bed as you. My mind takes inventory of all the ways he is not you: his smell is not yours, his hand does not curl around mine the way yours does, and his breath does not send shivers down my spine like your deep exhales do. But I’m with him, so I must be over you.