essays
So far
I turn 44 today. Beyond that statement, I’ll set aside the cold metrics of life evaluation. How does one quantify joy? Sadness? Accomplishments, rage, grief, disappointments? Contentment, heartache? So let’s leave off the numbers. My specialty was always qual, anyway. This past year has been, without question, the worst I’ve lived so far. (I say…
Read MoreAbout being bi…
Given that nowadays I’ve got a half-dozen things going on at any moment (with at least another half-dozen that I should be doing instead of procrastinating on), I slipped on talking about Bi Visibility Day on the 23rd. I totally meant to. I even had planned to do a cute little “It’s visiBIlity Day!” post.…
Read MoreWhen rage is grief, and must come light
Since the election, my necessary rage has settled into banked coals with hearts of grief. I have never handled grief well. Anger is easier, and there are times when rage is exactly the right and needed response (and this is one, this is one), and righteous ire is a blessing. It is an instrument, an…
Read MoreJourneys of a thousand li
There are many things I haven’t said too much about in public. The Dakota Access Pipeline, the ongoing shit show of American policing and our war on black folks, BLM, the ever-present cultural genocide of Native peoples, the horrible disrepair of our educational system, the ridiculous state of our healthcare system… there’s just so much.…
Read MoreWhen the wolves come
One of the things that has always stuck with me from my early days in college was a discussion amongst my Jewish friends about what to do if (when) the wolves came. Do you have friends you could hide your children with? (This was before any of us had kids, but this is an old,…
Read MoreSo we’re clear:
I have no room for conciliation. I have no use for a false unity whose only purpose is to co-opt my consent to oppress me. I have no patience for calls to work together with those who seek to undermine my humanity. I have no respect for those who hate that I dare to believe…
Read MoreIn the forcing jar, does the bulb dream of spring?
It strikes me that sometimes my imagination is too small. When I started on this path, I did not begin to have anything beyond the vaguest outlines of how the choice to become a nurse would change me. Yes, yes, I knew that it would do so, and I even had intellectualized that knowledge into…
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