Lilith Quill

When I was a kid, I marched in small-town Arkansas — a child with a “Right to Life” sign in hand, standing shoulder to shoulder with people who told me what to believe and who to fear. We’d gather after church, smiling for Jesus while condemning strangers. I looked it up recently — the March for Life is still going strong. Nineteen rallies this year alone. The machine didn’t go away; it just got slicker, louder, and meaner. Here’s the part that sticks in my throat: the same people who once...

Dinner Conversation   From the time I was old enough to understand, our large family dinners were laced with certain words spit out from...

These books mark the steps of my unlearning and relearning—each one cracked something open in me. Some helped me find language for what...