Abby Robinson’s ‘Lamentation’, photographs featuring plywood, chronicles a period of protest and civil unrest in a Soho you won’t find on any walking tour.
Especially in a pandemic, her and the Indigo Girls’ arresting performance matters.
Project Unity: Ten Miles of Track in One Day memorializes 20,000 Chinese emigrants employed by Central Pacific Railroad to build the transcontinental railroad.
Near the House of Pot, sandwiched between an electric power station and a direct path to the local airport, the neighborhood I live in is a mix of working-class Asian immigrants, mostly Cambodian and Vietnamese, and long-time African American denizens. The only prophet to ever come out of this northwestern hub, Jimi Hendrix, shuffled through these parts as a latchkey kid.
Madge Yang’s multi-media collages depict nuances of the Asian American experience
There are these standards of friendship applied to kids that I think should be eradicated.
Less human and Unsanitary
were whispered and belted
Signs in stores
read “Vaccinated only”
A part of me hates it
A part of me gets it
A story about tapping into who you are and where you come from. What happens after we uproot? I was one of the 300,000 Romanians who emigrated in a wave following the political regime change in 1989.
At eight years old, everything is alive, and everything deserves love and companionship, which, come to think of it, even at 37 years of age, still makes sense.
Is it possible to be delighted, almost mesmerized, by a red carton containing scoops and scoops of my favorite chocolate peanut butter dessert, Oregon’s very own Umpqua ice cream, and not feel as though the burden of guilt—maybe the most wasted emotion of all—has flipped into hyper gear?
When empathy is lost, what follows? What is the agenda? Perhaps, a steady march toward denigration and solidly placing the foot? The assumption of power surely is an unapologetic aphrodisiac.
We sat on the edge of the bed, in darkness, unsure of ourselves or how to proceed. I looked at him, and he looked back. Moments later, my face was wet. It was over. I was confused. Had I been kissed?
Journalists are telling story after story about the COVID crisis and the devastating government policies of the past four years. This media coverage is vital. And yet, we’re more than pain. The part of us that feels joy also needs representation. Space to grow. Here are essays and meditations about delight that are moving, vibrant, and necessary.
Shelley Nicole—the mainspring behind Shelley Nicole’s blaKbüshe—is simultaneously a product, a witness and architect of Black-on-Black love, a calling that has informed all of her work as a singer, writer, composer, actor, poet, musician and a healer.
I saw people “kissing”
A poem made from subject lines in my Inbox at the beginning of the COVID pandemic in New Jersey. March — April 2020.
A story about Daniela Groza, an artist and taxi driver in New York City rising to the challenges presented by coronavirus in pretty intense situations.