Abortion was controversial. Abortion was murder. Abortion was a choice.
It was clear to me what side of the debate I had to be on. My mom made her own choice.
She kept me.
Abortion was controversial. Abortion was murder. Abortion was a choice.
It was clear to me what side of the debate I had to be on. My mom made her own choice.
She kept me.
I have no problem celebrating Christmas. I love Christmas. I love the lights. I love getting together with family and eating a shitload of calories. I love Stevie Wonder’s Someday at Christmas holiday album. Before I had kids to drag around everywhere, I used to love the fake fir scent permeating every overly heated department store I entered. I’ll even hit up a midnight mass if any one of my family really wanted to go.
I do have one problem: Santa.
We prepare mass shootings the way we prepare for natural disasters. We know the next one is coming. It’s just a matter of when.
As an Asian American teacher working in a public school with predominantly black and brown students, I’m placed again in a complicated racial hierarchy that doesn’t like to name itself. I am rather anomalous in Harlem, but as a teacher of the African American Civil Rights Movement, I am freakish. Once I referred to myself as a person of color, only to be greeted with an involuntary snort from one of my students.
Dear Lord, Today Son #1 tried to kick or step on Son #2’s head. When I told him it wasn’t okay to “kick his brother in the head.” He vehemently … Continue reading Dear Lord: Toddlers.
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Mostly Education; a Smattering of Politics & Pinch of Personal
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On existential questions, feelings we're not supposed to feel, and growing the revolution
500 words a day on whatever I want