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A 40-something woman fully in awe of another 40-something woman.

There is a myth that needs to be dispelled. This falsehood has created a communal anxiety among women for decades. It is the myth of the Late Bloomer.

Many of us over 30 have heard some variation of this fallacy for much of our adulthood. Most commonly, we are told that if a woman reaches a certain age and has not yet found what brings her joy (“settled down”), or if she makes a drastic life change to go in pursuit of whatever her joy may be, she is a Late Bloomer.

To start, the idea that women should have life all figured out by age 30 is fairly ridiculous. …

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I am an invisible man.
No I am not a spook
Like those who haunted
Edgar Allen Poe;
Nor am I one of your
Hollywood movie ectoplasms.
I am a man of substance
Of flesh and bone, fiber and liquids —
And I might even be said
To possess a mind.
I am invisible, understand, simply because
People refuse to see me.
-Ralph Ellison

I am trying to forget
I am his daughter
When he tells the story.

His eyes do not meet mine
When I sit to listen
As he travels back 48 years
To 1955
To West Helena, Arkansas
To Whites Only
To Coloreds Not Allowed
To pain. …

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My mother (with me) at 19 — the age I would be before my anxiety was diagnosed.

I have my mother’s hands. Long nail beds with elegant, piano playing fingers. Skin soft enough for soothing and caressing, but thick enough to let you know life hasn’t been easy.

A stranger at a party “read” my hands once. He studied them for several moments then told me what he learned. …


Cali Green

Storyteller. Producer. Writer. Editor. NYU faculty. Traveling selfie taker. Auntie. •

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