I used to pity the single women in their 30s and 40s. When I was deep in fundamentalism, I was attending a cult in New York City. My parents had met there and were married. We’d moved by the time I was four, but the leader had found me on LinkedIn while I was attending… Read More Journal 6: 35
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt safe. Months, maybe years. Certain days hit a little harder, somehow always unexpectedly. Like today, which should have been Margaret’s 24th birthday. Emblem of Our House (Blog) Unacceptable Divorce Justice Emblem of Our House (Podcast) She’s Gone Quiverfull Cult I find little moments to find some peace,… Read More Journal 5: Safe
I built the innards of a kitchen haphazardly in 2014. I was newly married, relying on guest gifts and general ideas. The first time I’d ever shopped in a grocery store alone was in 2005, age 18, freshly on my own. I had no idea how to create a grocery list around recipes or prepare… Read More Journal 4: Innate
It’s late. We’ve got wine. There are four of us, just a bunch of girls sitting around a kitchen table. There are crayons and a few toys next to me, and I push them gently over to make room for my arms. I try to tuck my feet up on the chair, but I can… Read More Journal 3: Pick Me
I’d hear of the more extreme groups now and then, like the Duggars. We weren’t like that, I’d think. We were reasonable, with our set gendered roles and our long hair and skirt requirements and purity culture. I found Fundie Fridays recently, a YouTube channel that covers fundamentalist individuals and groups. Jen is an atheist,… Read More Journal 2: Fundamentalism
When they learn I don’t believe anymore, sometimes they react with anger, like the person I matched with on a dating app. He was in a master’s program, a self-proclaimed Christian working on his psychology degree to become a therapist. I casually mentioned it, having noticed he called himself a Christian on his profile. He… Read More Journal 1: Heathen
Originally published in the True Girl Anthology September 2019. Download or order your copy here. I wanted to be pretty that day. I had this image in my head of looking striking in my grief, like the woman wearing the black netting over her face attached to that impossibly tiny cap on the right side… Read More Promises
I didn’t speak to my father much by 2011, when Margaret went to Cadet Camp. I tried, as well as I could, to be a good daughter, but our conversations had always felt off, even when I was young. I remember one night, when I was still at home, around age 14 or 15, and… Read More Emblem of Our House: Cadet
I didn’t know Margaret had a best friend. I’d known for a while that big events pull people out of crevices. I found myself worried about people showing up who hadn’t known her, not really, reaching out to leach off of the pain. There’s something about hubbub that functions like fire, that turns people into… Read More Emblem of Our House: Friends
The anxiety crawled up my throat from my stomach. People were looking at her on the train. He wasn’t her baby, and she was only 12. I knew there was no way that the baby was hers, of course, but she was young, and she was looking at him with tenderness and wearing him in… Read More Emblem of Our House: Family