The lid on my head is heavy, keeps me under a constant state of bringing to a boil. The comfort of this cycle is a habit I fall into even after years and years of seeking another way. Bring to a boil is easy, bring to a boil is comfortable, bring to a boil is exhausting.
Today, I
Today I slid the lid off my head and remembered I had shoulders and torso and pelvis and legs and feet. That I could be light and this did not make me less.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
I am–but damn I try hard not to be– I am yet anotha girl manipulated into—cornered into enabling your male privileged ass That one who
From a distance I stand in mountain pose, channel the ground beneath me to center the particles that long to join the majority of tribes
My silence seemed like abandonment, neglect, angry to you on those days when I asked for a reprieve, a moment to gather, mourn, feel. It