By Iris Fluellen
The bad guys and these are really bad guys, are in charge now, but maybe they were always in power. Now they are drunk with it and think they have won. We’ve had a couple of victories the past couple of days with the departure of that lying Russian loving,
By Miles Sarvis-Wilburn
I am trying to stand tall right now. I see my white brothers and sisters emboldened across the country. I read talk of returning to a better time, of reclaiming what was lost, of more money and power and influence. The American Dream,
By Zachary McElgunn
Dear Human,
I believe you exist. I mean, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be writing you this letter, but I do, so I am. You exist just like me, and because I want to be heard, considered, appreciated,
By Nadav Savio
Dear Trump voters,
I use the plural “voters” because there are many of you and you’re not all the same. You have different perspectives, different motivations, different reasons for voting as you have.
I’m not writing this to those of you who are beyond reach,
By Sharon Smith
When I think about immigration, I think about Manuel. I find myself back in college many years ago living in a place where many Latinos cooked our food in the dining commons. Manuel, a big burly guy with a wide smile, was one of those people whom I had gotten to know.
By Sandy Handsher
That’s what my sign said at the Women’s March on Washington.
I didn’t have a sense of humor about it, as some women my age did: “Do I really have to protest this shit all over again?” The other side of my sign said,
By Carol Harada
I write to you from my kitchen in rainy midwinter San Francisco. The refrigerator hums and I’m drinking tea. I imagine you in your kitchen, reading this in a quiet moment. I want you to know that the dreams I have for something better include you,
By Annie Kelleher
In the words of the late great Joan Rivers, can we talk? Can we? I’m not so sure we can – I’m beginning to think we’re a single nation separated by lot more than a language, to paraphrase George Bernard Shaw. (He was a guy in the nineteenth century who wrote a lot of plays.
By Kenneth Caldwell
Who knew that the revolution would begin with one stitch? And then another. And another.
Pink has been fully reclaimed. Our comrades at Code Pink have been working on this for some time, but now it’s happened. This color was not an epithet,
By Tim Lane
Well, it’s me. Again. I know. We thought we’d never have to hear from each other after that speech I gave at graduation thirty years ago. That was the deal.
I hadn’t really thought about you, or that speech,
