The girls are rising. They clamber forth from deep pits in Juarez, the lunar slide of their hipbones canted and pocked. They scratch their way out of shallow holes in the Oregon forest, dirt staining the fractured moons of their fingernails. In Florida, saltwort coils round their feet, desperate to keep them there in …
I always knew that I would burn. I knew it even at eleven, standing in the Jehovah Hall wearing a Pepto-Bismol pink crinoline dress, my fat-knobby knees rubbing that rough fabric, the itch of that crinoline dress and a forced smile. The force upon me like damp fur. I could smell it, the danger of it, God, …
This week’s story is the first of our We Are Here Now Online Issue which features stories dedicated to women and other under-represented voices. A new story from the issue is to be published every Monday. Imagine if you will, the author as a teen: awkward, black, and completely absorbed in the act of …