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Our Bodies, Our Hopes by Michelle M. Campbell
Yesterday morning at my local coffee shop, I had the sudden urge to tell the woman sitting by the window that her body was beautiful. You see, her body looked like mine, and not many others do. I suspect many people feel the same way about their own bodies. And, since we can’t see ourselves…
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How did we ever come to know dandelions as weeds? by Michelle M. Campbell
It’s spring in my neck of the suburban Midwest, which means the denizens of this fine region are finally extracting themselves from their abodes after a long winter’s Netflix binge. Today was the first day in a long while that I sat on the back patio working and reading into the late evening. As…
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On the Bodily Pain of Protest by Michelle M. Campbell
Martyrdom is easiest when you know the ending. It’s the waiting, the continuing struggle toward a diminishing goal post, that is one of the hardest parts. I am part of a group that has been occupying the administration building of Purdue University in protest again the lack of administrative outcry against fascist posters put…
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On Dreaming Escape by Michelle M. Campbell
When I was a young child, I would lay awake at night and travel. I had read one of those late 80s magazines about everything supernatural and, along with a young adult novel whose title I forgot long ago, I was summarily convinced that I should, at the very least, give astral projection a try.…
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On Being Little by Michelle M. Campbell
We matter because we are matter, and if we get purposefully madder and madder and madder we can’t be little by being belittled.
José Guadalupe Posada
