radical tenderness.
Letters to Four Men Who I Have Never Actually Met But Do Feel an Inexplicable and Troubling Tenderness Towards
I don’t eat meat but if I did I’d buy it from you. When you smiled at me on my first day in the neighborhood I did not smile back and I feel bad about […]
The Future of Lebanon
After days of zealous protesters surging through Lebanon’s capital, nationwide, and worldwide, calling for political and economic reform in the country, Prime Minister Saad Hariri has officially stepped down. The Lebanese people were initially triggered […]
things we don’t talk about
Content warning: suicide, mental health, institutionalization last may, i emptied thirty (30) little heart-slowing pills called propanolol into my palm, dropped them onto my tongue, took a sip of water, and swallowed. […]
How to Talk Nice
Before you go to school for the first time, you learn how to talk nice.
“To see something last, it’s like death escaped”
Grafton Tanner conjures the ghosts in our devices and invites us to join their chatroom. You’ll leave haunted.
Poetry by Amyiah Hillian
The strongest brown body that I know shrinks in public
The Man-Children
What is striking about Lerner’s third novel is the way it implicates itself, its forms—literature, prose, poetry—in the collapse of public discourse, and the proliferation of “man-children.”
Date Night with Vomitina
Dave was a pathological flake, and after three years of dating, I still wasn’t used to his absolute surprise, confusion, and disappointment.
Help! I’m Afraid of the Dark
Burke lurks in the far corner of my bedroom when the lights are out and I’m in bed, wedged between my IKEA pillows.
“Writing is also an opportunity to learn new things”
I can’t pinpoint the moment I met Lidudumalingani. Throughout my time in Cape Town I encountered him at film festivals, talks on creativity, live music events, book gatherings and around the dinner tables of mutual friends.
Poetry by Aly Tadros
I guzzled down my twenties
Poetry by Mica Le John
black hands/pure gold/interstellar bodies
Poetry by Basil Soper
would expose intoxicants under mama’s pulsing scales
Steinbeck’s King Arthur
Open the pages of King Arthur, though, and it’s apparent that we’re very far away from New York. We’re in Camelot.
Poetry by Isoken Osagie
I am not bereft, just panting
The Case for PB&J
When I was a kid—I don’t know how young, but my dad was still alive so I must have been younger than six—I went apple picking with my family and I picked a withered brown […]
The Familiar and The Fresh
Recklessness looks a lot like bravery.
New York City & Tinder Were My Ultimate Matchmakers
There is no such thing as “dating” in my South Africa. You’re either in a relationship, hooking up, single, or in the friendzone. A large emerging category is that of the “blessee” who plays that […]
Two Kiss, Three Kiss
There are two kinds of people in the Persian community: Those that kiss you on the cheek twice, and those that you kiss you on the cheek three times.