immigration
Crying in H-Mart: Grief, Hunger, and Healing
In rock musician Michelle Zauner's memoir "Crying in H-Mart", food is not just a vessel to memorialize her mother but a touchstone for accessing her Korean heritage.
The Cold, Hard Truths About Texas
The blackout has left me with time to reflect on my Texas childhood. A daughter of immigrants, white-washed and shamed for my brownness and non-compliance to the Texas Way, this blackout has ignited an anger I've felt for most of my life. The failure of Texas goes beyond wifi. It is a failure of ethos.
How to Break Up With the Non-Profit Pyramid Scheme. For Now.
I’ve only been out of work for 11 days at this point. Yet I awake each morning to an attached PDF, an embedded link, or a “heads up” on some new job. Through the morning haze, it’s typically the first alert I see on my phone. For some asinine reason, everyone finds grounding in their […]
Democrats Should Listen to David Frum If They Want to Lose Elections
David Frum warns Democrats not to give residency to Latinx frontline workers. Don't listen. Biden’s immigration policy as voter enfranchisement: a coalition of Latinx voters and newly naturalized citizens will be the next Georgia swing
This Isn’t My First Coup. But It Is the First One I Have A Problem With
It's no secret that the US has long undermined self-governance in Latin America while pretending to be the greatest exporter of democracy in human history. I recall an aphorism attributed to Porfirio Diíaz, "Mexico, so far from God, so close to the United States." With that lens, I see this coup attempt as evidence of how weak US institutions, beliefs, and democracy truly are.
Fascism Goes to School
The classroom is where many white women may mimic the power of a strongman and the power asymmetry widens when a white teacher is placed in charge of a racially minoritized class of students.
When You Can’t Claim It, But You Can’t Escape It
Revisiting one of our favorite pieces from Tasteful Rude: “Are you Black?” my first crush, a white boy, asked me as we played together in the sandbox at school. I wasn’t sure. I thought of my nickname “negrita” but I didn’t know how to explain that I’m the darkest in my family or why it seemed perfectly natural to be identified by my pigmentation. When I couldn’t answer, he ran away from me.