[Image Description: Pink headphones lay flat on a pastel pink and mint background]
We all have songs that transport us to a particular time and place. With snapshot vignettes, Tanea Lunsford Lynx constructs a literary mixtape of memories, from childhood dancing to Columbia University.
Read MoreThe subterfuge is tiresome - my septum ring flipped up every time I come home, hiding the undercuts in my hair with the long hair falling over and my nails trimmed short short short. I’m tired of waiting to tell them.
Read MoreI was an angry kid because I already knew everything was bullshit, and I knew it didn’t have to be that way. While knowing it wasn’t my fault didn’t stop me from being wounded by it, it also doesn’t diminish my responsibility to heal those wounds myself, and to not pass them along.
Read MoreI came to China to work, but so much of me stayed in Croatia – my family, my partner, my friends, my professional and personal interests. My everyday life in Beijing is mediated between here and there, in the span of the seven-hour time difference, in the Beijing hutongs and the streets of Zagreb.
Read MoreThere were a lot of things I didn’t tell my parents when I was growing up, and there were a lot of things they never told me in return.
Read MoreWith every mile I put between me and the fire, I felt safer and calmer.
Read MoreI had learned from a very young age that my father was an angry man.
Read MoreBeing raised by someone with Narcissistic Personality Disorder means you’re questioning your reality at all times, since they take gaslighting to a whole new level. You don’t trust yourself, you don’t trust anybody, but you do trust what your father told you: it is all your fault.
Read MoreMy father was a farmer, and I remember when he let me play along in his field, albeit only during harvest time while my elder brothers helped him with the paddy and haystacks.
Read MoreMy mom’s side of the family came to the U.S. from Cuba as refugees fleeing the Communist Revolution. My dad’s side of the family is of the Midwestern variety that doesn’t believe in feelings, sickness, or anything that might be perceived as a weakness.
Read MoreMarina and I had been together already for a couple of years, but in those days her mom could still barely make eye contact with me, much less remember my name. My menu politely responded: See, this is what a hillbilly dyke can do, you fucking homophobe.
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