Crying

Writing flash auto-fiction for my life

Preface

I am participating in the Tin House Winter Workshop this week, which is a great honor. Alongside one hundred and fifty other writers from all over the world, we are gathering in endless Zoom meetings each day to talk about the importance of writing, and to workshop each other’s writing. Centering the voices of writers from marginalized communities—including writers of color, indigenous writers, immigrant writers, queer and trans writers, disabled writers—I have been thinking a lot about the phrase ‘writing for our lives.’

Sometimes writing is a portal out of our own suffering and into liberation—sometimes for the individual, sometimes for the collective. I do not naively adhere to the adage ‘the pen is mightier than the sword.’ But I do believe, when facing persecution, that writing can at least get us to that next day, to keep fighting.

Today’s piece, which I am calling “Crying,” was written in just such a moment of lifesaving. I must believe that writing gives my life—a queer,…