In my latest newsletter: my mom and stepdad finally have their power back in Asheville after a scary couple of weeks, and in celebration I shared this photo of the two of them from 1983. Also: writing election postcards; some tried-and-true soup recipes; audiobook recommendations; gathering in (remote) community on Sunday nights for Sebene Selassie’s Making Sacred Space; cultivating attuned . . .
My latest essay, “Taking T for Jesus,” on the transphobic evangelicals hawking hormones, and also developments closer to home, is up from The Baffler today. Here’s how it starts: A few years ago, my then-eighty-year-old mom started taking testosterone to improve her health and sex life. As with most of her major life decisions, she got the idea from a . . .
Anger to my mom is strength and unimpeachable truth, a companion to determination. I write about this a little bit in Ancestor Trouble, how the idea of identifying, much less acknowledging, difficult feelings such as fear or sadness fills her with rage.