The most shocking part of Sean Combs’ trial has been how many people were unmoved by the sight of domestic violence. Over and over again, we hear testimonies of people who watched Combs beat up Cassie Ventura and said nothing. Here’s the problem: what could they say? Given a horrific video of Combs beating her up and his lawyers not even denying he’s a violent abuser, how can anyone take action in the face of domestic violence? What is a person really able to do? Read more
Before there were charge cards, before there were dual-career families, there was second-grade me, shopping after school. “Charge it, please,” I’d say, like a suburban Eloise.
I shopped because there was nothing to do at home after school except fighting with my brother. And every time one of us got hurt, we’d get in trouble for calling our parents at work. The fighting got worse as we got older, and we began to understand: not even blood would get their attention. So we ignored each other, which felt worse than fighting, so I didn’t go home after school. Read more
Child abuse is distorted love. Sometimes it’s broken bones, but often it’s parents who say they care while eroding a child’s sense of safety and worth. The Menendez brothers are getting a sentencing review, and after 30 years of a life sentence they could be released from prison. But what’s really on review is our collective refusal to understand long-term abuse. The Menendez brothers are a cultural mirror: the more we understand their story, the more we must ask what we’ve normalized in our own homes.
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Nino and I sit at the table waiting for Z to come to dinner. He calls out, “One more minute!” from his bedroom more minutes than I can count. But I’m so happy he’s home on break that I wait. Read more
Some people have a bank account. I have an email list. This explains why nothing makes me overreact more than when something goes wrong with my email list. People who see me overreact regularly will probably disagree. They’ll be like, “I saw you throw a fit about [insert one of 10,000 things here].” But trust me, you haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen me send out 250,000 emails with a bad link. Read more
When my kids lived with me I felt like I had no control over when I could write, so I had to find happiness in helping my kids meet their goals. With both of them in college, I don’t set their goals anymore. So I’m trying to train myself to be happy when I write since that’s what I can control.
Meanwhile, I try to be an encouraging listener because I read that the thing that most influences college success (after the super-influencer: money) is parental encouragement in the student’s ability. Read more
Scene from Umbrellas for Cherbourg (1964)
When my kids were young I yelled. Just a little. But then I read that any yelling at all permanently damages kids. I thought: Really? One time? That’s weird. Because when I was a kid, a yelling day was a good day. It meant no blood. Read more
Untitled Film Still #21 by Cindy Sherman 1978
I tutor this girl who is the daughter of my friend. Her mom’s not really my friend because she has sisters, and women with sisters are not friends with women without sisters. If you don’t have a sister you’re too needy, and brothers don’t count. There’s no link. I’m not linking to stuff anymore.
When someone tells me their child is autistic, I always end up telling them that they are too. Because autism is a family condition. At the end of these conversations people ask: “Do you have a reading list you could send me?” So here is that list.
The only way I find out what people value most about me is by having to sell something. Otherwise I’m just guessing. And I pretty much always guess wrong. Like I thought I was so great at writing about sex, but I only made money writing about careers. Now I understand why careers was more valuable: it’s easier for people to talk about their sex life than their finances, and careers are about money. Read more