reframing femininity
He loves me between his smiles and contagious giggles. The brown guy in front of me wrinkles his nose and anger passes through his eyes, the anger he’s absorbed all day. I squeeze his arm. He flinches. How did I forget he cannot bear the gentle touch I offer after a long day? I’ve encouraged…
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It is approximately 1:00 am when the bus pulls into the service center and I file out behind the women wearing headscarves. I am a spectacle, to be sure. I pay to use the Turkish toilet, remembering the awkward squat this set up requires and one particular time on a ferry boat while 7 months…
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I have spent the vast majority of my professional life navigating spaces dominated by men. I have patted myself on the back for refusing to conform, pursuing jobs that are less “girly”, and those that require less emotion and more logic. I have felt strong, stoic, and independent.
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My name is Holly, I am an addict. It does not really matter what my addiction is. What matters is my addiction was what I chose to fill the God shaped hole in my life. My addiction kidnapped my heart, my soul and my mind. But God. God ransomed me. I used my addiction to…
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Part of the spirit dies a little each time it’s asked to carry more than its weight in terror, violence, and betrayal. Tattoos on the Heart by Gregory Boyle It’s a complicated truth, and people don’t like complications. Set This House in Order by Matt Ruff What does one do with…
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I hear the pattering of feet and my seven-year-old son bursts through the bedroom door. I squirm, anticipating the end of my slumber. Every morning, shortly after I hit my alarm at 5 a.m., he opens the door, declaring, “Mom, are you still here?” I roll over. The door is shut. Luis is on his…
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I sigh, and park my car between an instructional parking sign and the bumper of an Audi. Breathing the psalmist’s holy plea, “Lord, you have seen this; do not be silent. Do not be far from me, Lord.” I exhale. God returns silence and presses me into service with little to offer. My friend and…
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I turned off the television and stomped my foot and almost growled with agony and anger. I couldn’t help it! I turned around and harshly spoke, “Why hasn’t the church spoken about this? I am so mad! Why isn’t more being said from our pulpits?”
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The stage was a mere platform, less than a foot above the crowd, and I had purposely invited others to share it with me. The student union ballroom was fully opened- round tables and rows of chairs and standing room only at the back. Over 650 people packed the space for the inaugural human trafficking…
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My surprised skin bumped into the chills of the new fall morning air. Inhaling deeply from its fresh coolness, I steadied my beating heart’s morning aches that were left over from last night’s racing internal discussion about a life and a death. A young 19-year-old woman hung, suspended before my mind with her long, coarse,…
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