By place

Category Archives: Honduras

Not Another Bite

When I first moved to Honduras three years ago, I ate everything my host family ate: beans, eggs, cream, tortillas. Heavy, simple plates—bland, but satisfying. But then suddenly one day, months in, I just couldn’t do it anymore.

The Billion-Dollar Business of Donated Clothes

I have a sinking suspicion that most issues work this way—they deeper we go, the more tangled we find ourselves, looking in vain for an exit.

I Speak with an Accent

What if we heard all accents this way—not as a sign that English is not one’s first language, but as a sign that another language is?

All the Things We Don’t Know

We keep getting messages, some true, some false. It’s too hard to make sense of a moment when you’re in it.

I Am Not the Funny One

It’s not that I don’t have a sense of humor—with close friends and family I joke, laugh, and make others laugh. But there’s an unshakeable earnestness to it.

When I Cross the Street, Cars Stop for Me

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.

A Day on the Bus in Tegucigalpa

A Day on the Bus in Tegucigalpa

by | Jul 1, 2017

I set a few rules—my “day” on the bus would last eight hours, but would include walking to, from, and between buses.

What Happens Next?

What Happens Next?

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.

Listening for Birdsong

Listening for Birdsong

“I’ve always heard birdsong,” my father told me in the car once. “But now I listen.”

Something-American

Something-American

Here I’m asked to explain it: why we talk so loudly, why we dress so sloppy, why we elected Donald Trump.