NOTE: most posts pre-2016 or so have been moved to the archive.

on whims of vengeful starlight

Night stars are benevolent, unlike the pitiless lord of the day. Under the moon’s placid gaze, Sesylie can pull off her goggles and drink in as much ultraviolet as the heavens will grant her. Lest her absence become contested, she resists the urge to wander and sprawl on the chalky jigsaw flats of the Barren. […]

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we should be rioting in the streets but instead i’m updating my resume: on business as usual at the end of the world

everything from then on out was going through the motions. everything from going to work every day to saving for the future to breathing was a charade performed as defense against the inevitable a tired eye closed to the light of the oncoming train a battered heart numb to the cries of the victimized child […]

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Towards reclaiming my birthright, part 2: divest from cure, control, & contain

[In the first installment of this series, I talked about my politics in general and how the connections between systems of oppression and my personal experience have become incredibly salient to me. Here I want to talk about how that awakening impacted my attitude towards my various disabilities and how I navigate the world with […]

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person with locks and light skin in blue and purple dragon pajamas

End-of-winter updates and things

It’s been pretty somber in the Fierce household this fall and winter. I would say I’m approaching burnout, but I know that boundary was crossed long ago. I’m fueled by sunk-cost fallacy at this point. I don’t want to be in school anymore, haven’t wanted to be for some time. Me doing something I absolutely […]

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Half as much (pt. 6)

“Goodnight, Jennifer.” Mother stands in the bedroom doorway, made ghostly in the waxing crescent moonlight, her shadow further darkening the dim hall behind her. “Goodnight, Mother,” Amara says from bed, turning away from the door as Mother shuts it behind her. Amara breathes shallowly, listening as Mother pads down the hall towards her and Father’s […]

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The shape of a memory: surviving sexual abuse outside the bounds of rationality

I don’t remember the first time I was raped, but I know it happened. I don’t recall when the memory was lost. I can’t answer #WhyIDidntReport. I do recall remembering exactly what happened, in re-traumatizingly clear detail, two years later: in the middle of an assembly at school on reporting sexual abuse. And then, I […]

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Half as much (pt. 5)

Under a waning crescent moon, Amara is in the woods, dipping her hand into a black plastic garbage bag and plucking out tiny cafeteria packets of salt; ripping them open with her teeth and shaking them out until their combined contents form a thick, unbroken circle. She shuts her eyes and speaks under captured breath […]

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Half as much (pt. 4)

Patrice Leah Brown, Esq. holds a steaming cup of ginseng tea in one smooth brown manicured hand and scans her maroon At-A-Glance with the other. Someone had the nerve to schedule meetings at 12:30 p.m. and 4 p.m. She shakes her head and considers canceling before she looks closer and sees that the meetings are […]

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Half as much (pt. 3)

“It’s more than grief, baby…” “But sometimes that seems like that’s all there is.” “There’s joy, too. Trust me. But you have to be here for it.” “I feel raw, Mama.” “I know, baby. But you’ll toughen up. You’ll get stronger.” “I don’t think I’m as strong as you, Mama. Maybe it’s the white in […]

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