"What is the human place in the universe? I have begun to be obsessed by this question, but the answers that come from today tend toward the economic and political. Take effective political action, say the voices; agitate for legislation to abate climate change, take public transportation, contribute."Read more
"It took such a long time for me to see that the book was about our relationship and that it was an abusive relationship. I didn't see that until very close to the end of writing it. I was just blind to it, myself. And that's what it was like being in it [the relationship], too: I couldn't see it for what it was.."Read more
Exactly one week before my first book came out, my daughter weaned and potty trained. She did this in a day. After months, maybe even a year, of my hand-wringing about a possible eternity of diapers, about when and how to perfectly ease her off the boob, she woke up one morning and became a kid.Read more
My work explores the intersection of place and identity, so I am drawn to stories that create atmospheres both physical and cultural—that investigate the embedded, omnipotent role that our collective histories, and the places where they’ve unfolded, play in our lives.
Whitney Elizabeth Houston died on February 11, four years ago. It was a Saturday, the night before the Grammy Awards, the weekend before Valentine’s Day. I was sitting on the red sofa in my first Brooklyn apartment procrastinating on a work assignment with a glass of white wine and hurt feelings about a romantic problem that often distracted me.
My baby was 18 months old when I joined Instagram. I figured the platform would be a way to connect with other mothers and…
All weekend, I’ve been in bed, in the limbo land of the sick. It’s a space I know well, a territory I’ve occupied for periods of time throughout my adult life…
Somewhere near Kazakhstan, the 1980s: At nighttime, surrounded by goats, a little girl lay on her back in a pasture and pointed a small telescope toward the stars.
Because of the fog, no one can enter San Quentin. Inmates must remain in their cells to be counted. We must remain on the outside.