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Mary, A Story about Freedom

We worked side-by-side for two hours, me snatching glances to see how a septuagenarian was keeping up with me and her admitting I was “quite a worker!”

God’s Orgasm

Why do we expect God to be sexually pure? As a woman, it’s fun to realize God and I have that in common.

Religious Not Crazy

The musty smell of those stairwells matters to me in a way that the bare truth of Evangelical forms of craziness never could.

Pothole Culture Shock

I didn’t swerve around the pothole because I didn’t see it. In many ways, I’ve forgotten how to look outside myself and outside my culture.

Look Up

For a moment, I got lost in space and time. Sunday morning church was above me, and I had to look for the bookshelves and study carrels to remember that a library was around me.

Young and Brave

My body went hot, my hands shook with James’, and I felt again for the first time in over a decade what it really feels like to fear your peers.

When A Church Breaks

When a church breaks, her people realize they broke her themselves. By not acknowledging the extent of our own broken fingers and bent hearts, we pursued something that might not have been the gospel.

In Defense of Ideals

When I got home one day and saw him pathetically trying to work, I summoned up the vision of the ideal wife and did what she would do.

Bad Apples

Unfortunately, while one “bad” student—disruptive, selfish, rude—could derail an entire semester for an entire class, the opposite is not true.

Here in the Parentheses

I can’t be the only woman who read his post and thought, “You’re kidding, right?” I can’t be the only woman who read his post searching for the punchline.

Miles to Go

Maybe by the time I’m ninety-six or ninety-seven I’ll see things differently. Maybe I’ll see divine love in the allowance of racial violence, torture, and marginalization.

The Pink Shirt Problem

I reach for something on the floor, feel a breeze on my chest, and we both realize why the shirt has been so long closeted. “Oh,” I say. “Damn.”

Titty Sprinkles

Some of the men on my team couldn’t find a passing lane—offensively or defensively—if their lives depended on it, but no one notices that.

How to Age with Style

Last night I met a twenty-something who is in her last year of undergraduate work. She seemed so young, so bright-eyed and comfortable. I swear I heard my knees creak.

I Quit

This was a tantrum that got out of hand, causing me to forget that my desires are not the most important thing in the world.


There is power in naming our fears, so here it is: I fear that sort of adulthood. The knowing sort. I fear it because it is a foolish and finite sort of adulthood.

Day 237: The Kitten Chronicles

But the bottle cap has disappeared into the space beneath the big, cold, white box. She has long since learned that is a dark place from which bottle caps do not return. She does not mourn its loss.