Niki knew better, but he couldn’t help himself. He reached over the fuzzy velvet rope to touch the president’s hand. Niki’s thin brown fingers (his nails sparkly green) contrasted with…
Contemporaries Essays
The Statue and the Veil: Postcritique in the Age of Trump
After the white nationalist demonstrations in Charlottesville, Donald Trump notoriously equivocated over the ethics of the protestors, claiming he was “not putting anybody on a moral plane,” as “there were…
Trump’s Catastrophism, and the Left’s
Donald Trump is our catastrophist-in-chief. On the campaign trail, he portrayed America in crisis, a waning empire on the brink of collapse. He characterized ObamaCare as a “total disaster” and…
Critique in the Trump Era
The presidency of Donald Trump has yielded a daily glut of information and misinformation. Alongside the undermining of truth itself and the devaluation of expertise, this glut challenges traditional forms…
My Struggle, vol. 6: Dan, January 4
Greenpoint, NY Dear friends, It is, he claims—all of it—a marriage fight. Call it marital realism, a demon released by the couple form. Call it a gaslight novel. Linda projected…
My Struggle, vol. 6: Omari, January 2
Toronto, Ontario, Canada It does no good to write autobiographical fiction cause the minute the book hits the stand here comes your mama screamin how could you and sighin death…
Intergenerational Feminist: A Conversation with Jamia Wilson
Jamia Wilson began her career as a nonprofit leader by doing campus outreach and action-fund coordination for Planned Parenthood. She has since served as Vice President of Programs at the…
Itinerant Feminist: A Conversation with Jennifer Baumgardner
Starting as an intern at Ms. magazine in 1993, Jennifer Baumgardner became the youngest editor in the magazine’s history in 1997. She left in 1998, working since as a prolific activist, filmmaker, public…
My Struggle, vol. 6: Marit MacArthur, December 6
Davis, California Dear interlocutors, Fecal transplants are the future. I appreciated the figurative spirit of Jacob’s riff on Knausgaard’s shit, if not the substance. But yeah, I would argue that…