Editor's note: The author’s name was omitted to protect their identity.
We often cross paths but do not speak I do not know him, but understand my brother is not my enemy I do not know of his pain, but simply know that it exists So we nod
I waded in the ocean as a prayer to wash my soul clean.
I honored the idea that salt might stick to my wounds, might mend the flesh, let me be holy.
Que dios te bendiga. May God bless you.
Here I am, cooking in my apartment’s kitchen. My heart beats joyfully with the rhythm of stirring. My boyfriend slurps the rib soup to check if it’s ready. Wait, why did you start eating?
It’s New Year’s Eve.
When I called my mom last week, she said: “You should not come back at this moment. Stay safe and stay warm.” I knew how much they miss me as I haven’t been home for a year.
“Have you still got your space? Your soul, your own and necessary place where your own voices may speak to you, you alone, where you may dream. Oh, hold onto it, don’t let it go.” - Doris Lessing, Nobel Prize Lecture 2007
You’d think that having an American name would help someone like me assimilate better into American society.
After watching the Netflix miniseries, When They See Us, I was brought to tears by the manipulation of innocence and infuriated with the acceptance of injustice.
She told me that she didn’t believe in love.