Posts tagged “personal history”

  1. Tangled hangers drive me crazy. I usually don’t have the patience to untangle them, but the whole purpose of this exercise is to untangle, tidy, clean, organize. I flop on the bed next to the piles of clothes and work on the hangers for a few minutes until I can line them up, all of them facing the same way. I hang them back in my closet, at the far end, so that when I…

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  2. At a time when it is being proposed that hundreds of billions be spent to uplift Negroes and other minorities, the nation’s 300,000 Chinese Americans are moving ahead on their own, with no help from anyone. --“Success Story of One Minority in the U.S.,” U.S. News and World Report (1966) Can we all get along? Can we get along? --Rodney King on the third day of the LA Riots, after the acquittal of four police…

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  3. Abdul and I, we’ve known each other since he came running toward me one night with open arms and a wide smile, declaring: “It’s so good to see you!” I had never seen Abdul before in my life, but how could I turn down this beautiful, smiling face? I met him midway, for the first of many embraces to follow. Later, we would find many more things connecting us: two young brown queer people from…

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  4. The first time it happened, maybe, was sixth grade. I had missed the bus and it was raining, a prickly mid-March storm where the rain is semi-frozen without quite being sleet. I was waiting in the parking lot instead of my middle school’s lobby because I felt, by virtue of having carelessly missed the bus, I deserved the pain of half-ice slapping against my skin. My back was pressed against the red brick wall of…

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  5. Felix Kent's previous work for The Toast can be found here. Between the ages of 18 and 24 I went through a phase of thinking I was good at engaging with other women. Actually becoming friends was mysterious and unpredictable. Love is. Still I believed in courting the possibility; I thought I was good at courting the possibility. There is a (nonfiction) book called Our Hearts Were Young and Gay which I read over…

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  6. Beginnings: I was born on a Tuesday. On the same day that the first of two cyclones in less than a month killed 35,000 in India. On the same day as the birth of Salvador Dali, whose twisted, surreal visions unsettle me. First Memory: I watch as my sister and friend run down a hill, laughing, tumbling like kittens, while my feet were held solidly to the ground by metal braces. Irony: The old rhyme…

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  7. When you meet me for the first time, you read me as if I were a book. Every idea you have about me and every word I say is part of that book. When you look at me, you will think I am white. I already know this. When you shake my hand and meet me for the first time, you always already read me as white. You will hear me speak English without an…

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  8. When I broke my neck, I heard it break. A crisp "pop!" from the base of my neck. I’m told my gymnastics teammates heard it, too, from across the gym. I’d broken some bones in my feet, the occasional finger, and sprained my ankles a zillion times, but never experienced such an audial reminder that we are, physically, not so different than our tree friends - made up of limbs that can be bent, snapped…

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  9. Tyler McCabe's previous work for The Toast can be found here. Truth often finds its way to the mind close-muffled in robes of sleep, and then speaks with uncompromising directness of matters in regard to which we practice an unconscious self-deception during our waking moments. --Nathaniel Hawthorne Frankly, when I was ready, it only took a small measure of effort to declare myself queer to family and friends. I scheduled the coffee dates and…

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  10. Adrienne Celt's previous work for The Butter can be found here. The first time, you nearly died on Easter, at home in the greenlands of Washington. I was sitting outside at a restaurant in Arizona, having skipped a hike with friends so I could relax and hang out with the dog. The waitress brought me a pear and Brie sandwich, which sweated in the heat. I didn’t have the spirit for a hike I…

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  11. When I was a little girl, I became infatuated with Grace Kelly, especially in the three films she made with Alfred Hitchcock. I was enchanted by her beauty, yes, and her silvery voice, but also the way that you could always tell she was performing: her enunciation, her gestures, the tilt of her head, the way she would clench her jaw (I tried clenching my own jaw in the mirror, but I just looked angry).

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  12. Rohin Guha's previous work for The Toast can be found here.   "[E]ven though I knew nothing about Peach in terms of stats or character besides her princess status, the mere fact that she offered me the chance to play through the game as a girl felt like such a novel idea that I picked her immediately." --Kate McCallister, "Float Like a Butterfly, Sting Like a Peach" When was I eight years old,…

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  13. Lately I’ve been taken with the Basic Bitch. I didn’t really notice her until last year. She’s catching on, this girl; she is everywhere. Kara Brown, writing for Jezebel, explains that she really caught on after the hit song “Gucci Gucci” (Kreayshawn). It’s a great song, catchy and canny. Probably my favorite line in this song is Bitch You Ain’t No Barbie, I see you work at Arbie’s. In Kreayshawn’s Gucci Gucci, the Bad Bitch…

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  14. 1. At first it’s probably not obvious that you are their only nonwhite friend. Maybe you can’t remember them hanging out with any people of color except for you, but you don't know all the people they know. All those tiny thumbnails of white faces, commenting on their political status updates and praising their selfies on Facebook -- that’s Facebook, what can it really tell you about someone's life? Sure, you might go over to your friend's place for…

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