“I mean no offense, but I need a man to help me. I don't want you to hurt your chance of having kids one day.” What he’d said sent me reeling. I never thought such a sweet gentleman could actually believe it or say such a thing. I simply offered my help moving something, and in return, I got an ignorant comment. ...

The smell of air would be rancid to city folk, but to me it smells like making sweet memories. My old boots slip in the mud as I walk past the arena with my lead rope tight in hand. I hear the announcer call out the name of a contestant, and horse and rider shoot out of the gates to make their clover-leaf pattern around the ...

A Story from a Reformed Racist: Walking into Jobe Hall on the night of February 27th, I wasn’t sure what I expected other than earning points for my publications class and my education classes. After Madison Kalia’s reading, it was clear I was in the middle of an emotional shitstorm. All of the poets were amazing and many h...

The smell of air would be rancid to city folk, but to me it smells like making sweet memories. My old boots slip in the mud as I walk past the arena with my lead rope tight in hand. I hear the announcer call out the name of a contestant, and horse and rider shoot out of the gates to make their clover-leaf pattern around the barrels. The rider’s mother and father scream on the sidelines in lawn chairs they brought from home. I can see the father’s beer-filled gut spill out from his unbuttoned flannel as he shouts. Their other child, a boy no...