In 2014, I was back from an extended blogging hiatus and trying to find my writing legs. It was when I first realized I needed to make the shift from Fiction to Nonfiction. Prior to that time, my Fiction was a jumble of the anxieties I was trying to sort without accepting or owning. In fact, I wrote a 192 page cycle of short stories as my MFA thesis that was based mostly on my family’s nonfictional experience with the Lebanese-American diaspora on both continents. It is a series of

Raising Mothers is a publication devoted to deepening the conversation around issues parents of color face. They are currently publishing writing on the next steps in parenting post-presidential election. When the Founding Editor, Sherisa de Groot contacted me, I knew I wanted to write something on this topic. It felt and feels very alive to me. It’s a curious thing, writing when we are afraid. I was afraid to tackle the subject even though I was excited about it, but here’s the thing: I could stay inside the fear or

by Jessica Boyce It would a simple thing, to take the pain away, to end the battle of my mind, And yet I choose to stay. My mind, so quick to anger, and pain cuts to the bone, yet I force myself onward, For I am not alone. One soul, he is my other half, would be broken and bereft, and children that are precious, would not know why I left. I am proud of my survival. It is my saving glory. The beasts that smeared and stained me, They

This post was written almost a year ago and never published. At the time, I was working to come to grips with expectation versus reality when it came to my recovery from surgeries and illness and what that meant for my body and the way I see myself. I never published it because I wrote several pieces around this issue, the strongest of them being “Female Seeks Power” which was published on Open Thought Vortex Magazine. This piece is much more interior and is true for me today as I work

I will be revisiting older content through the New Year as I focus on the two personal projects I have excitedly undertaken. It’s fun having secrets. These projects aren’t huge. One really is a basic step I should have already taken but never prioritized.  The other is an endeavor I’ve been excited to implement on my own–at least this aspect of it. It is important for me to work independently periodically, especially since most of my work is completed with and for others. In a way, Project 2 is a relief project I

Today, Open Thought Vortex Magazine published a piece in which I come forward about an assault I’ve never publicly shared. I chose to do this there for a number of reasons. One is that OTV is dedicated to elevating voices and conversations which have primarily come to include issues of survival. The other is a history of trust and love. While I may have left my editorial position at OTV, it still has a place in my heart. It was such a privilege to be invited to support OTV. Watching it grow

The morning chill hasn’t been enough to quell the heat of anxiety as it blooms in my belly upon waking. I fight dread off my chest and scrape myself off the bed as worry turns itself up. I have worked hard daily not to listen to fearful thoughts. Attention feeds them and then they grow. But today I found getting up easier even though the chatter was already present and rising. I got up feeling safe in myself, so I listened. It’s not easy to separate the threads of fear, and

Wednesday morning, my boys asked the result of the election and began assembling a nuclear fallout kit. We couldn’t catch them. They tore through the house gathering canned foods and Nerf guns, certain this election spelled doom. “Will they know I’m of color?” my eldest asked me not long ago. I cried over the question. He was talking about the police, a group he is likely to run in with as he grows due to his neurology. “High functioning” is code for “normal-looking” when it comes to Autism. The term

Oh, America. I have loved you from birth but today you have let me down. Me and countless others who look to you for safety, freedom and progress. I woke up wondering if I had slipped into an alternate reality. I wish I had so I could claw my way back to safe purchase. I have never been so disappointed than to wake up and learn that fear has won. I had such hope. Now I have anger and sadness, a bitter mix. What will become of us? I can

Read Journey to Next World, the first leg of this story, here. Topside, the world looks bigger because our minds are smaller. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from life underground, it’s that perspective is everything. Beelzebub and I started this journey into the earth on the breath of a dream. My dream. One that haunted my sleep night after night until I followed Bub to the soft soil where we dug up the door to Next World. When I saw my handprint on the door–knew I was the key–I

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