My Secret Public Journal

II: The King’s Coin Two weeks had passed since the frost-marked road was first patrolled. The men had grown quieter. No longer did they mock...

Today was graduation for my high school students. As I stood before the Class of 2025, what I saw—what I felt —was a sleeping li...

Art history is heavy with the weight of the male gaze. For centuries, the female body has been offered up for consumption—reclin...