Author Archive

Fiction Feature: CORONA by Bushra Rehman

October 2, 2013

Corona (and I’m not talking about the beer) Corona, Queens 1983 Corona, and I’m not talking about the beer. I’m talking about a little village perched under the number 7 train in Queens between Junction Boulevard and 111th Street. I’m talking about the Corona Ice King, Spaghetti Park, and P.S. 19. The Corona F....
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January 15, 2013

I left my ovary on the subway last night. Stepped out. Felt light. Heard the doors close behind me, and realized I’d left my ovary behind.   If there was an honest person left in New York, maybe they would return it. But you can get 2000 dollars for an egg, at least that’s...
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The Assembly

November 29, 2012

Queens, NY 1984 Nothing in P.S. 19 was ever heated enough. The auditorium, the cafeteria, the large windows with their pull-down plastic vinyl drapes rattled in another winter storm.  Ms. Cooperman, our teacher, frowned as she saw us shiver. “Bring your coats,” she said. “We’re having an assembly.”  It had snowed heavily the day...
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Posted in Culture, Education, Health, Politics, Sexuality, U.S., Uncategorized, Youth | 8 Comments »

Secret Survivor: An Interview with Amita Swadhin

October 21, 2012
Secret Survivor: An Interview with Amita Swadhin

On the morning of July 16, 2012, I received a letter from Amita Swadhin, an activist and educator who is at the forefront of the movement to end Child Sexual Abuse. Her father Vashisht “Victor” Vaid was put on probation twenty years ago for sexually assaulting her during her childhood. Amita had just discovered...
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Posted in Family, Health, Politics, Religion, Sexuality, U.S., Violence, World, Youth | 28 Comments »

The Father

June 17, 2012

  The hands of the clocks turn until there are no hands anymore   The years unfold: work, work, work the numbers on the paycheck never match the hurt in his bones, the money sent home,   The homes built in Pakistan, abandoned, all the sons of his brothers came here, to this god-forsaken...
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Worry and anxiety have worn me down to the bone

May 30, 2012

There was no rug on the floor and the old lady from downstairs would crawl up on her hands through the wood and show up at the door, screaming   there was no rug on the floor and any scrape or movement would start the beating up from down below the wooden broom-gunfire and...
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Posted in Culture, Economy, Family, Immigration, Poetry, Politics, U.S. | Comments Off

The Endless Baptism

May 15, 2012

The Endless Baptism For Palestine For the last few months, I’ve been working on a series of essays on Palestine. I’ve now written and erased my words until there is nothing left but the original title of the series. It could fit on a button: “Islamophobia is not the answer to Anti-Semitism.” —-Eventually, the...
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May 13, 2012

to sleep all day in loving arms or call my mother and hear her say Bushra? I was thinking of you right now   to sleep all day in loving arms or spend the morning in my apartment in the Bronx feeling the sun warm the linoleum looking out the window and thinking:   I...
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Arts & Culture

  • Remembering and Honoring Toni Cade Bambara Sanchez

    Sonia Sanchez: What are we pretending not to know today? The premise as you said, my sister, being that colored people on planet earth really know everything there is to know. And if one is not coming to grips with the knowledge, it must mean that one is either scared or pretending to be stupid.

  • Hunger Kwame Laughing Foto

    They say you had the eye; they say you saw
    into people. They say you came before as shaman
    or bruja and returned as priestess; they say you were
    stonebreaker. But for me, you were a big sister
    feeling for a lonely brother with no language
    to lament, and you gave me more days, and
    more days. Yes, they could have called you
    Grace, Bambara; they could have called you that.

  • Stroller (A Screenplay) Black families and community

    Roxana Walker-Canton: Natalie sits in her own seat in front of her mother and looks out the window. Mostly WHITE PEOPLE get on and off the bus now. The bus rides through a neighborhood of single family homes. A BLACK WOMAN with TWO WHITE CHILDREN get on the bus. Natalie stares at the children.

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