By the time I started dating in high school, I’d already been sexually assaulted. Those early relationships were a little extra fraught for me—I’d only had the terminology to accurately describe what had happened to me for about a year, and the idea of talking about it in any detail was downright terrifying. Still, I was a teenage girl who rocked out to Taylor Swift and desperately wanted to know love, and when presented with the opportunity, I dove into dating.
My first boyfriend, who lasted approximately three months and was away for summer vacation for almost all of that time, never found out about my assault. (We still follow each other on Instagram, though, so maybe he knows now.) My second boyfriend, whose tenure neared a year and spanned my final months of high school, did. He was the first person I’d told besides my mom, who found out when it happened.
Continue reading on assault and high school boyfriends
This month, I’ve spent awhile writing about the darker sides of artistic activism and the toll they can take over time. As we leave 2019 behind us and look forward to a new decade, I want to take a minute to acknowledge some of the folks who have shaped not only my career but my life over the past few years. Some of these people are my teachers; some are my friends and family. Some of them inspire my work, and some of them keep me alive. Some aren’t named here but are just as important. These folks are imperfect, but they are my inspirations and among the many I aspire to be more like as I move through the world. This is my (admittedly small) tribute to them.
the things that get me through
Vince Thiefain’s hugs. I could get lost in these. (I don’t feel genuinely short very often.) Not just the hugs, either—the compassion in them, the genuine “I give a shit about your wellbeing” they convey.
Chaz Martineau’s concern. When the world is falling down, he’s the person I want to talk to, because I know how well he listens.
Pat Feher’s camaraderie. Even a semester in, Pat keeps me on my toes, but it never comes from a place of one-upmanship; he challenges me to dig deeper into the whys and hows of both my art and my activism. A cup of coffee goes a long way when the conversation’s this good.
Tim Feeney’s softness. I need more men in my life who just hug me when they’re happy to see me. Tim does. He also inspires everyone around him to push toward excellence, but he encourages us to find that at our own pace and on our own terms. That perspective is one I desperately needed during my masters.
Wendy Richman’s candor. How many badass women in your life are equally open about struggles and successes? Wendy reminds me I can be one of those people—just like her.
Continue reading the things that get me through