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Summer 2022 was easily one of the best times of my life: weeks spent in the sun and the outdoors, with friends, and a great sense of purpose working for the first time at my childhood summer camp.
My camera roll is a time capsule that launches my brain back to a specific space.
Inside New Mt. Zion church, in front of the pulpit, lay the body of a man I’d never known nor seen a day in my life.
Dear beloved reader,
Close your eyes.
Inhale. Exhale.
How do you imagine blindness?
Dearest,
I watched from the top of the staircase tonight as you gripped the railing on the way down, knuckles white and still bony from the years you let me hold them.
Gay Christmas, or bitches Christmas, was a queer Halloween parade born in Philadelphia in the 1950s, in response to the
One of me sways to music, stays smiling
Reaches my arms up to fractured ceilings
I am instantly hit by an unforgiving wave of humidity and booming trap music. There are tons of people around me dancing, drinking and making out, but they all seem adrift.
I am no stranger to opinion.
As someone who gravitates towards op-ed writing, I am used to disagreement. I enjoy reading political essays online, especially from news outlets that allow conservative voices to publish thinkpieces.
In the fifth grade, as leaves cascaded down into a shriveled crisp and as the autumnal air descended upon us, I begged my mother to be Little Red Riding Hood for Halloween.