To all the women who refuse to wear a bra every day,
Who let their leg hair grow,
With dirt under their finger nails,
You never needed anyone to say you were beautiful in the first place.
To all the women with stiletto heels,
And fresh scents of jasmine,
Who carefully pick out outfits for the day,
Neither did you.
Like so many, I have been personally affected by our new president’s abuse of executive power. And yesterday, I was physically sickened after reading an article that compared the Muslim ban to the refusal of the St. Lewis, a ship with nearly 1,000 Jewish refugees escaping Nazi Germany. There is a very strong possibility that we’re simply repeating history. The bad news keeps coming in, and every headline and every new executive order sends shivers down my spine.
The only leverage we truly have, however, is freedom of speech. We’re in the golden age of journalism. While we have a…
At 6:30 AM, the Laguna Room waits for its participants. Every one of the 141 chairs is placed in aisles at equal, precise lengths apart. The room has wafts of Lysol air freshener. Every tissue box, water cooler, table and poster has been precisely placed according to the Production Manager’s handbook. Among other check boxes in the handbook, the carpets have been vacuumed three times, twice more to keep busy. A young woman in heels and a pencil skirt had gotten down, not once, but twice, on her knees and crawled through the aisles setting black ball-point pens underneath each…
On an overcast early afternoon in January, children run from short waves at Heisler Park Beach in Laguna Beach, CA. They shy away from the water complaining of the “icy” temperature. To their right, half-submerged tide-pools provides a vista point to revere at surfers carving effortlessly through waves on short boards. Beneath them, a bed of rocks is hidden by the dark blue-green of the Pacific Ocean.
These rocks were once the home to the abundant Ochre starfish. Their stunning shape used in folklore has offered solace and a friendly familiarity in cautionary tales. Their shape represents the shining lights…
Balboa Island did not exist until it was dredged into being in 1904. In those days, the property was a muddy wetland surrounded by water. Old, grainy photos show shiny streaks of water slicking through the soft terrain. In those days plots of shallow waters and sand were usually hidden by regular high tides, making the land seem like an undesirable place to build a home. Boats would have a difficult time maneuvering, often hitting sand bars into the shallow waters with disgruntled fisherman and merchants having to wade into the waters to push them out. It would six years…
Writer, yogi, returned Peace Corps volunteer. MFA Creative Nonfiction ’22 student.