I moved to Portland, Oregon a little over a month ago. Here's a little of the beauty I've found here:

Dedicated to my great-grandmother, who missed the Titanic

Dearest Robert,

I’m sure you’re thinking of my third-class cabin

leaking loudly, creaking, squeaking slowly sinking.

But it’s a fine day at Mayneen and Bridie and Colleen are baking inside.

Tickets to Chicago are always dear, but with the fear of Titanic

we’ll not have to postpone our wedding a year or make it less lovely

with no Guinness for beer to make ends meet.

In the cabin next door one could hear little children crying, crying endlessly crying, “Momma, what’s happening—are we dying?” And I lay in bed, ruing the day that the gleaming seams of that “Ship o’ Dreams” left me without the means to return from Queens—the port from which she sailed.

The next morn’ Papa brought in the paper and then my anger tapered, more quickly than a candle with the flame blown out.

I never heard her name, but her face came in an instant:

The woman who slept in my cabin.

When I entered the game, I never thought I’d win and now the grin on my face

is replaced with the knowledge that we will get married and send

grandchildren to college and that woman is buried

in the Atlantic.

Robert—they denied my passage because they hadn’t received the message

that my ticket was part of that sweepstakes. And I guess that’s all it takes sometimes:

a mistake and a person who can pay for the ticket.

I’ll be home in a few weeks to wipe those tears from your cheeks.

Your beloved’s alive and our marriage will thrive because now we know

that fate wants us together.

Love,

Nora

music monday

Someday (two months from today) I'll graduate and my blogpost will no longer be sporadic. Until then, sporadically yours, Hilary. 

on when to reclaim words and when to let them go

About two years ago, because of a few of my friends, the word "bitch" kept popping out at me. At its core, the word is supposed to be offensive. And I don't want people to be calling me a bitch, whether it's to my face of behind my back. It makes me feel tiny and like my soul needs to curl up inside of my body and take up as little space as possible. So I stopped using it. Until that point, it had been a pretty frequently-used word in my vocabulary--both as a word meant to hurt and as a word intended to show friendship/ownership/belonging. You know, "yeahhhh, she's my bitch."

Today, my defense walls go up when I hear the word "bitch," even when it's being reclaimed, such as with Bitch magazine or the Poehler/Fey poster on the right. So as someone who very much supports reclaiming words and rising from the disrespect, how can I reconcile the fact that this word is still being used as a form of disrespect, as an echo and an emphasis of oppression? Because, while I never want to be called a bitch, I can't help but think, "hell yes, bitches do get stuff done" when I hear Tina Fey speak, when I read Bitch, when I write a criticism of some patriarchal influence that is keeping the people down. But I cannot stand the thought of people trying to degrade me with that word, the thought of someone--even a friend--asserting ownership over me by saying "you're my bitch." How can we find a balance? Is this word salvageable? Is Tina Fey's catchphrase more powerful because 'bitch' is still used to oppress? I don't know that I'll ever have the answer, but it's a good conversation to have.

"Girl" by Jamaica Kincaid

Wash the white clothes on Monday and put them on the stone heap; wash the color clothes on Tuesday and put them on the clothesline to dry; don't walk barehead in the hot sun; cook pumpkin fritters in very hot sweet oil; soak your little cloths right after you take them off; when buying cotton to make yourself a nice blouse, be sure that it doesn't have gum on it, because that way it won't hold up well after a wash; soak salt fish overnight before you cook it; is it true that you sing benna in Sunday school?; always eat your food in such a way that it won't turn someone else's stomach; on Sundays try to walk like a lady and not like the slut you are so bent on becoming; don't sing benna in Sunday school; you mustn't speak to wharf-rat boys will follow you; but I don't sing benna on Sundays at all and never in Sunday school; this is how to sew on a button; this is how to make a button-hole for the button you have just sewed on; this is how to hem a dress when you see the hem coming down and so to prevent yourself from looking like the slut I know you are so bent on becoming; this is how you iron your father's khaki shirt so that it doesn't have a crease; this is how you iron your father's khaki pants so that they don't have a crease; this is how you grow okra—far from the house, because okra tree harbors red ants; when you are growing dasheen, make sure it gets plenty of water or else it makes your throat itch when you are eating it; this is how you sweep a corner; this is how you sweep a whole house; this is how you sweep a yard; this is how you smile to someone you don't like too much; this is how you smile to someone you don't like at all; this is how you smile to someone you like completely; this is how you set a table for tea; this is how you set a table for dinner; this is how you set a table for dinner with an important guest; this is how you set a table for lunch; this is how you set a table for breakfast; this is how to behave in the presence of men who don't know you very well, and this way they won't recognize immediately the slut I have warned you against becoming; be sure to wash every day, even if it is with your own spit; don't squat down to play marbles—you are not a boy, you know; don't pick people's flowers—you might catch something; don't throw stones at blackbirds, because it might not be a blackbird at all; this is how to make a bread pudding; this is how to make doukona; this is how to make pepper pot; this is how to make a good medicine for a cold; this is how to make a good medicine to throw away a child before it even becomes a child; this is how to catch a fish; this is how to throw back a fish you don't like, and that way something bad won't fall on you; this is how to bully a man; this is how a man bullies you; this is how to love a man; and if this doesn't work there are other ways, and if they don't work don't feel too bad about giving up; this is how to spit up in the air if you feel like it, and this is how to move quick so that it doesn't fall on you; this is how to make ends meet; always squeeze bread to make sure it's fresh; but what if the baker won't let me feel the bread?; you mean to say that after all you are really going to be the kind of woman who the baker won't let near the bread?

Thanks for the Christmas present, Ma.

Martha says "Good morning!" I need a haircut.