Category Archives: Honduras
I want to be better about recognizing their cousin—micro-advantages, micro-privileges that lead to a world that bends in my direction, that is softer with me, gentler.
I set a few rules—my “day” on the bus would last eight hours, but would include walking to, from, and between buses.
There is increasing political talk in the United States about deporting the migrants who are apprehended at our border or inside of it. There is very little talk about what happens next.
“I’ve always heard birdsong,” my father told me in the car once. “But now I listen.”
Here I’m asked to explain it: why we talk so loudly, why we dress so sloppy, why we elected Donald Trump.
I sent the email at 3 p.m., and at 3:05 I wondered how they would get the blood from the seats and I couldn’t get it out of my head.
I had always prided myself on writing and speaking well, and suddenly I was handed different tools to use; they felt cumbersome and did not fit well in my hands.
This hope beyond reason (though not against reason) is not held in monopoly by Christians, but it is central to Christianity.
My mom and dad trail behind me, consulting a map. One of my brothers squints upwards, while my sisters are eagerly taking pictures of sewer rats.