cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
I grew up with the names “it,” “thing,” and occasionally “numb nuts.” These gruesome names marked me while simultaneously dehumanizing me within my home. I was given an American name when I was adopted from my orphanage to the U.S. I heard this name used mostly outside of my home by teachers and friends. There…
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Standing in the bathroom, a place of horrific and shameful abuse. I am getting another haircut that strips away my femininity. I’m 11 years old and in the midst of a war that revolves around my hair length. Much of my childhood has already been stolen. My inner little girl is screaming “Please mom, stop! Don’t…
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I transitioned from standing at the front of an auditorium scrolling through powerpoint slides to filling my plate in the buffet line at the restaurant in the heart of Delhi. My company sent my boss and me to facilitate a design thinking workshop for our team in India. As I was filling my plate with…
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