I saw you walk into the diner with your husband.
Your back tired from years of living; your face pointed to the ground.
I saw you walk into the diner and I thought to myself I don’t want to get old.
I don’t want to sit across from my love and sit in silence because I cannot hear, I cannot see.
I saw the cataracts floating in your quiet eyes.
I saw your knuckles rising like mountains through the terrain of your hands.
I saw the permanent scowl you never asked for.
I daydreamed about your life, your marriage, about the emptiness you might feel right now.
I watched you from over my love’s shoulder, sitting in silence, staring at the table, lost in your own thoughts.
I also watched as you picked up your straw and blew the wrapper into your husband’s face.
And I watched as you clapped your hands and laughed until tears formed in your no longer quiet eyes.
Inspired by Kelly Oxford’s tweet, I asked my friends and family to share their stories of assault. I was not prepared for the answers I received.
In order to protect the identity of those who were brave enough to share their stories on my Facebook status, I will not share their comments, but I will tell you that within a few hours of asking my peers if they’ve experienced sexual harassment or assault, 50 women responded.
These 50 women wrote of being raped by loved ones, people they trusted.
They wrote of being groped by medical professionals or bosses.
They wrote of having their breasts grabbed or their vaginas or buttholes fingered by friends at school or strangers at a bar.
They wrote of being harassed “too many times to count.”
A few women shared their stories for the first time.
Some shared their stories with me privately.
The stories came from women ages 20 to 70, and they were all difficult to read. However, their responses reconfirmed several truths including (more…)
I just started a monthly newsletter, and I’d love for you to join.
This newsletter will contain:
-Other people’s writing you should check out
-Giveaways or whatever
-Pics of my cat (like the photo above of FatFace doing yoga)
You can sign up in this weird widget below:
Hey, y’all! I just got back from a super insane 18-day trip through 19 states, 10 national parks and several inadequate gas station bathrooms, and I hope to write a post about it soon.
In the meantime, I’m really excited to share that I will be speaking at the Texas Conference for Women!
I’m not a main speaker, like Ol’ Fancy-Pants-Amal Clooney, but I’ll be part of the social media roundtable where different women in social media, branding and marketing will host an informal discussion about their respective fields. I will be talking about blogging! The social media roundtable is from 3-4:30PM (Nov. 15th).
I’m really excited to be a part of the Texas Conference for Women as I’ve been an attendee for the past two years and have always found the event incredibly inspiring. Please let me know if you are coming! I’d love to see you!
Texas Conference for Women
November, 15, 2016
Austin Convention Center
“Baby girl, I’ve been seeing this for decades. You stop thinking about. You just pray for the people left behind. You’re just seeing it now. I love you, but you were born on this side of the track, and you’re now on the track peeking over to the other side. Now you’re getting mad with us, and that’s what we need.” –Tyrone, 62, black, homeless, a victim of police brutality, my friend, after asking him how he felt about the deaths of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile
When I was a very little girl, I heard about Rodney King on the news; I was sad, I was angry, but I did not understand. As an adult, when I heard about Trayvon Martin being killed, I was sad and angry, but I did not understand. When Michael Brown was killed, I was sad and angry, but I did not understand. When Tamir Rice was killed, when Eric Garner was killed, when Freddie Gray was killed, I was sad and angry, but I did not understand. When Sandra Bland, who was killed on this very day in 2015, I was sad and I was angry, (more…)
Sorry, Mom. This womb is currently barren.
WE GOT A CAT!
I’ve officially become Adult With Cat. (I’ve never had a cat before; I’ve always been a dog gal.)
But she’s not any ol’ cat.
Let me share with you the story of how FatFace and I found each other.
This is FatFace:
She’s a feral and has lived on our block for at least five years.
She was part of a feral colony my neighbor took care of, and which I’ve subsequently taken over after my neighbor moved across town.
I enjoy our cat colony, which totals between 10-12 mostly black or Russian blue cats, but let me tell you something about taking care of cat colonies: Don’t publicly share that info at parties. One time I was at a networking event and met a handful of interesting people and had to stop this sentence from coming out of my mouth: “Oh, man. I have to get going! My cat colony is going to be piiiiised if I don’t get home soon for feed time.”
(Side note: Though I now do the feeding, my former (more…)