Nonfiction
Nonfiction
like [my] mother, like me
If the bath is a womb, the shower is a river, a rain. Distance between droplets makes a better clean, not deep, but a clearing.
A Legacy of Stuff
There’s a legacy of stuff passed through my family, especially on my father’s side.
Moses’ Ear
I had thought I was alone. A familiar scent of bleach and black coffee hung suspended in the warm air of my childhood kitchen.
Dispatches from the Richmond Uprising
Before we leave Virginia, the doctor calls us from his home.
Confessions to My Ancestors
Confession: I don’t know my ancestors’ names. Also: my Mandarin is lousy. I have never been to our ancestral village.
How to Deprogram a Parent in 7 Easy Steps
Do you have an elderly parent who has fallen victim to internet conspiracy theories?
Smoke Screens
The week the pandemic hits, I break my lease in Little Haiti and drive fifteen hours up the I-95 to be with my parents.
Those People
In 1996, the year my mother died of a heroin overdose, Purdue Pharma started to sell OxyContin in the United States.
If I Had Known Then That Casey and Rhian Were Both Terrible Pieces of Shit, Puberty Would Have Been Way More Fun
We’re all on the grassy patch of land east of Christ the King, our school, with our uniform plaid skirts hiked, wearing way too much lip-gloss and not enough deodorant.
Little House in the Big Pandemic
At night, when Laura lay awake on her memory foam mattress, she listened and could not hear anything at all.
