Essays
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#BlackLivesMatter
My heart has been heavy for a while now. And my mind is still trying to come to terms with the fact that there is still systematic racism in America in 2020. It’s 20-freaking-20, not 1920, and it was just as wrong then as it is now. I just can’t fathom why anyone would think to judge someone based on the color of their skin. As a white, southern woman, I’ve grown up around racism. I went to an (almost) all-white high school. Our school district would occasionally have a student of Hispanic or Asian heritage, but I don’t recall any students who had black or African-American heritage during my…
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Losing My Religion
I didn’t attend church regularly while growing up, although I lived in the “Bible Belt” (and still do). I remember going to churches for weddings, as a guest of my friends on occasion, and with my Meema (my dad’s mother) when I would spend some Saturday nights with her but was never officially a member of any church until I was an adult. It’s not knocking my parents in any way; church was just not something we did. We were not a family that prayed before bed or said grace before meals. During holidays, other family members would say grace, and I would bow my head and pray along with…
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The Life and Times of a Not-Starving, Starving Artist
Only a certain number of artists are significantly wealthy, and I am definitely not one of them. When I refer to “artists” I mean people who produce art in the visual realm, in music, in performances, and with the written word, of course. My strengths primarily lie in the written word, but I like to dabble in visual art as well. While I’ve sold my words, I have never sold any of my visual art, though I have given projects as gifts. I’ve never offered it for sale. I imagine the results of doing so would be very similar to my venture out into the publishing world—supplemented by my day…
