A friend’s question prompted me to wonder why I’ve felt and heard so little enthusiasm—in fact, almost no mention among family—of the extraordinary elevation of Vice-President Kamala Harris to the position of Democratic nominee for the presidency.
To what degree are we talented women constrained in fulfilling our ambitions by the fear of being labelled insane or cast out?
Pip, my shelter dog pitbull mix, died peacefully on Saturday after nine years of a beautiful life, hiking, enjoying the dog park, going with me on all kinds of adventures.
We are now caught in an unarticulated contest between “strength” and “weakness” going into the presidential election.
After Donald Trump’s ear was shot at the rally last Saturday, one of the uniformed men rushing onto the stage shouted, “Hawk-Eye is here!” and I felt the thrill I used to feel as a child when a wizard or a powerful fairy arrived to set things right.
Recently when I was in Louisville, I walked down to the Ohio River to see In Our Elders’ Footprints and On the Banks of Freedom, installations which commemorate the enslaved people of the state.
As always happens when the United States is at war, now on three fronts, women disappear.
Recently I toured the Las Trampas Church where the elaborate interior, with altar screen, bultos, and other religious paintings was being skillfully restored by local craftsmen.
Since coming home from Kentucky last week, I’ve had the privilege of connecting with several academics who have put many hours into researching this controversial and hidden topic.
Michelle Goldberg’s column in The New York Times describes the 1935 Federal Comstock Act as a threat that Americans have not taken seriously.
