twenty years on, the author reflects on being trapped in a vortex of dark energy
I said goodbye to my brother, who wished me luck with eyes flooded with tears, then I left the house, followed by my mother. We took a cab to the airport.
Before the Russian officers drove my grandparents out of their house at the end of the war, the German Nazis had driven them out of the house at the start of it.
I am a pie person descended from a lineage of pie people.
For the first time in a decade, I will travel one way. I have no clue how long I would stay, and what it meant for the life I had built in the States.
A woman’s pandemic relationship with a cat deepens her humanity.
All our lives, a series of crossings. The parts of our existence we are often not proud to claim still make up the sum total of our lives.
A meditation on the paintings of the late Jesse Murry
You’ll understand why it confused me when, upon accepting his invitation to meet up with him the following night, he raped me.
This week, Tasteful Rude publishes a pair of reflections that explore the aftermath of gender-based violence. Tasteful Rude is doing so to counter the continued erasure of survivor-centered narratives, especially those concerning life after harm. We also publish these essays in response to the continued glorification of “cancelled celebrities,” in particular men reported for persistent engagement in gender-based violence and harm.
a winter in the Dolomites with my father-in-law
Organizers of Giovanni's Room unite to honor literary ancestors