My Mom Was An Underground Railroad For Abused Women: What She Taught Me About Feminism And Fear
The writer reflects on what her mom did to help others:
“As a child, I didn’t understand most of the midnight phone calls to my mom, or the times women would come over with children in tow, sometimes even in pajamas, and I would be told to go entertain them while Mama ensconced herself in her bedroom with their mother.
“Once, my mom spotted a bruised woman with three children holding a cardboard sign in the Wal-Mart parking lot. It was pouring down rain. I was seven.
“‘Stay in the car,’ she said, locking me in. She went to talk to the woman.”
How a Gun-Loving West Texas Girl Learned to Fear Assault Weapons
A personal history of guns in the writer’s life:
“I have no idea where that gun is now, I only know that he took it back from me and that I don’t own it, and frankly not knowing where it is also fucking terrifies me.
“If I could have taken it apart and destroyed the pieces, I would have, for reasons I didn’t even understand then; I only knew that I hated it, and something I had such a strong, immediate spiritual reaction to was not a good thing.
“I’d understand those feelings a lot more intimately after college.”