Writing is an act of resistance
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Nevertheless, She Persisted
By Carolyn Norr I followed her to the sea, she placed ripe pineapples in the frothing waves that had swallowed her ancestors and were still swallowing. The river led to the sea and was laced with mine tailings that silenced the frogs and swelled her son’s bones till he burst. I followed her to the…
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The Violence of Ageism
By Margaret Morganroth Gullette As the entire world now knows, Dr. David Dao is the passenger who was dragged off a United Airlines Flight on April 9th by Chicago police who broke his nose, gave him a concussion and smashed two of his teeth. He may need restorative surgery. Some media have treated this…
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Vandals Desecrate Jewish Cemetery
By Laura Budofsky Wisniewski Not that it’s such a fancy graveyard, just a hill, a mess, stones leaning on each other like the fathers of the bride and groom after the wedding. Our names are almost gone, covered by a weeping moss. I begged my son before I went, just burn me. Do they listen?…
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Something There Is That Doesn’t Love
By Olga Livshin …people like me. Does not like our sweatshirts, pilled, our backpacks, full of bric-a-brac, us, detained, on the floor, airport animals. Something has claimed that my adopted country’s autobiography of openness is finished. Something opens the mouths of my Jewish immigrant family to mutter: good for those terrorists to wait, hope their…
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I Still Am
By David Martinez I’m reading Open Veins of Latin America—because I’m writing my South-American book—when the woman in the parking lot starts to scream. The man’s screaming, too, and it’s violent screaming and I can’t see them. But I know they’re both red-faced and she’s crying. She’s shrieking. They’ve both been shrieking for a lifetime, but I…
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Alt-Majority Nursery Rhymes
By Marvin Lurie Every time I think I’ve gone too far, I read the paper and realize I haven’t gone far enough. Baa Baa Donny have you any money? Yes sir. Yes Sir, full banks many. Some for my gold door, some for my pompadour none for the little boy stranded on the shore. Donny…
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Some Poems
By Nancy Dunlop Brutal Things Must Be Said –James Baldwin Some poems reside in oven mitts, opening the stove and reaching for the pan with the leavened bread flowing over its edges, the mitts pull it out, piping hot. A safe and soothing thing. We are okay. Some poems are like an arrow in…
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First 100 Days: Recipe for Disaster
By Kelsey Maki In a mixing bowl, combine three cups of intolerance with two cups of ignorance. Add one cup of charged rhetoric and two tablespoons of alternative facts. Stir until smooth. Pour into a bulletproof, non-stick pan. Topping: In a separate bowl, combine one cup of self-satisfied sugar (GMO) and three cups of…
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First 100 Days: Two Trump Heads Are Better Than One?
By Marleen S. Barr Professor Sondra Lear, a feminist science fiction scholar who teaches at the Metropolitan University of New York, could not ignore the persistent pain in her molar. Thus it came to pass that she found herself sitting in an oral surgeon’s chair about to have her tooth extracted. “Do you want…