“Lilac wine, I feel unready for my love,” sings Nina Simone, trying to delay the loss of something already gone.

weekly conversations on the world of telling true stories, by Proximity
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“Lilac wine, I feel unready for my love,” sings Nina Simone, trying to delay the loss of something already gone.
You wake up and everything has shifted. You have been throwing up and napping sporadically for 6 months. You’ve been sleeping twice as much as you used to. You’ve dropped out of classes and quit your job. You took a nap on the kitchen floor after washing precisely 5 dishes yesterday, or was it 10?…
I was given the opportunity to interview poet, essayist, and scholar Alison Powell in the middle of the most extreme winter of our generation. A broken polar vortex has sent freezing air spilling across the country; cities are shut down, Fahrenheit and Celsius have met again at -40, and the President is begging on Twitter…
In “Unclenching the Fist,” rhetorician Richard Marback argues that objects are like words: “They provoke response. They are experienced. They are all right there, flowing into each other . . . there are some objects that so provoke us, so persist in their singularity, inviting more and varied embodied responses, that they become controversial, exemplary,…
I read “A Working Class Death” for the first time in a coffee shop. I took deep measured breaths to prevent myself from crying in public. My father was in a hospital that morning, many states away. Doctors were removing cancer discovered in his prostate and this was my first brush with a parent’s mortality….
In the introduction to Well-Read Black Girl: Finding Our Stories, Discovering Ourselves (Penguin Random House 2018), editor Gloria Edim explains, “Reading highlights the intersection of narrative and self-image to create compelling explorations of identity.” Edim tests this theory by asking twenty-one black women writers when they first saw themselves in literature. Much like the women…
As we step into the new year, we’d like to not only alert you to Proximity‘s next issue, themed The Body, due out in January—within which you’ll find our essay prize finalists, judged by Hanif Abdurraqib—but to also remind everyone of our top reads throughout 2018 and the writers who brought them to us. “A…
I am trying to create an outline for a workshop called “Nothing To Write About: Finding Inspiration in Writer’s Block” when my husband enters the room holding our 13-month-old toddler. His feet wiggle as he calls out to me in a quasi-operatic gargle that I understand to mean he wants to breastfeed. I take him…
One night a few years ago, I was tidying up my kitchen in Seattle when a text from a New York City zip code lit up my phone’s screen. My friend and co-editor, Kelly McMasters, was at a bar and, accounting for the time difference, it was late. “I just met someone,” she said. I…
I run. Miles and miles and miles stretch out in front of me like the unraveling of a life. I run. Through woods and parks, along beaches, paths, and asphalt. At first I couldn’t do it alone. Running was too many miles and all that quiet. I enlisted my boyfriend’s help and we ran together….