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Letter sent on Oct 27, 2017

Purging the demons…

My father is a raconteur, a wasp-cum-bohemian who wasn’t too keen on day jobs. He was forever and always working onprojects, which led us up and down the eastern seaboard; by the time I was in 6th grade we had lived in four states and seven houses.

This is all to say that I don’t have too many friends from my childhood; I basically have one from that era. We met playing in the soccer fields behind our house when she was 9 and I was 12.

We swiftly became inseparable — intense in our affection for one another, the local orchard, super Nintendo, and fervid masturbation — but soon I went to boarding school, then college, then moved abroad and so on and so forth. We never phoned or emailed, but saw each other whenever we could; our heartstrings tugged wherever we moved and we knew the other felt it.

I just saw her for the first time in three years; I think we chatted for 10 hours straight on Monday as we hiked through the dusty hills of Moraga, California.

She’s always been more “woo woo” than me (that’s how she describes her intense spirituality) and she’s recently gotten into doing ayahuasca ceremonies. She described the intense purgings — the black vomit imbued with personal demons expelled from your body as the medicine works its magic. She described the tears running down her face. She described the elation in the wake of 8 hours of exhausting, existential shit-wrestling.

As she described it, I felt a knot growing in my stomach. “I think I would literally vomit a waterfall, a fucking dragon of black viscous goo that would burst from my belly and burn the entire room to the ground…they’re not ready for this kind of purge.”

I laughed, she laughed, but we both knew what I meant.

I realized I need to dig in and sort through some shit. Soon. What are you doing to purge your own demons? How are you banishing — or gently coaxing — your own miserable dragon that paces the cage of your ribs?

With love + rage,
Katie Tandy
Co-founder | Creative Director

You could buy that $5 pumpkin chai

(and goddamn is it delicious)

— OR — 
you could support diverse media

for an entire. month.

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‘It Is Absurdly, Obscenely Common’: Incest Survivors Speak Out

By Annie Mok

Absent easy-to-surface recollections, I pieced together the facts through context clues: My mother often drank to blackout status, my father was often away on business trips, and, tellingly, I developed insomnia and anxiety around the fourth grade, when I realized this incident must have happened.

There was, I recognized, an iceberg of memories beneath the surface of my life — recollections of my mother making inappropriate jokes about my genitals, and touching me in ways and places that made me feel uncomfortable. Meanwhile, I’d always felt that “sickening awareness” — the feeling that I absolutely had to avoid this person, my main caretaker, as much as possible.

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Growing up asexual I learned that friends who profess fantasies of committed, long term intimacy will often abandon those fantasies when a romantic partner or job offer comes along.

I say “Yes, it would, but please don’t joke about that. Being a third parent with a couple I deeply love and trust is a very real dream of mine. I’d like to request that we only talk about that possibility if we’re ready to talk about it seriously.”

We don’t discuss it again for three years.

‘She Got Next!’ Black Female Comedy Writers Talk The Whitewashing Of American TV

By Chante Griffin

Has the dearth of Black women writers in Hollywood impacted your comedy writing career? If so, how?

Diona: Uh, well just to be super clear about it — there’s a dearth of people who have been employed, but not a dearth of writers. I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t felt like a diversity hire, but I think that’s an unfair way to view myself and also to view the show, because if you look at people as if they’re doing this because they don’t really don’t want to hear what you have to say, then that will come through in the performance that you give.

Amber: Sure. Years ago, Black people were more — we were what white people thought we were, and now everything seems so groundbreaking, and it’s just because it’s Black people as Black people see Black people. Every time you see it it’s shocking and uplifting and it feels great.

Can You Make Donald Trump Resign From Your Nightmares?

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Today, many argue that the purpose of dreams is to process memories and emotions — perhaps a subconscious imperative for Trump nightmares. “Dreams are many times a relief of fear, anxiety, or depression,” says Dr. Nancy Irwin, a Los Angeles-based therapist and dream expert. “If you are distressed by Trump, then know that your psyche is attempting to release those unpleasant feelings at night because it cannot do so fully enough by day.”

Some argue that the presence of Trump is not just about the man himself, but about a cultural awakening to the fucked-up power dynamics that have existed since long before his election. Racism, classism, sexism, and other systems of privilege are nothing new, but they are still painful to confront viscerally — so instead, we may confront them in our dreams.

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