Tag Archives: Masculinity

How We Got Here

How We Got Here

Fiction by

He’d felt the particular ache of a thing compressedmore

Silence, Father

Silence, Father

Fiction by

“When grandmother passed away, father grew reticent. And I was okay with it, since he abandoned his routine of scolding me for lacking masculinity. Since he didn’t condemn every tear that fell from my face, spewing the same toxic rhetoric of how I needed to emotionally withdraw and appear similar to a parapet wrapped in black derma, to protect everyone around me, just like him. When I thought I would cry most, I felt nothing.”more

Cigarettes After Sexism: The Shy-Boy Misogyny of Indie

Cigarettes After Sexism: The Shy-Boy Misogyny of Indie

Essay by

I spent most of high school wearing hoodies, reading guys like Salinger, and thinking about a girl called Laura, whose name is not really Laura.more

Where The Big Bad World Begins

Where The Big Bad World Begins

Fiction by

Tall as the devil, they said. At thirteen. Wingspan of a rare stork. Hands fat as chuck steaks. He should have been ruining worlds, not having his own destroyed by a pint-sized Indian in a second-hand Raiders jacket.more

Two Stories

Two Stories

Fiction by

It all comes out, no matter how many years later. He hated that photo, but it was telling the truth.more

Somewhere Without Trees

Somewhere Without Trees

Fiction by

No one broke Jesus’ legs, but someone made Him bleed. more

Real Fun

Real Fun

Fiction by

William didn’t need keys to successfully steal his mother’s navy blue Camaro. He knew how to hotwire it in ten seconds flat and lived for the jolt of electricity that shot through his body every time the engine roared without a fuss.more

Landmine

Landmine

Essay by

“Wife-beating has a unique and unforgettable sound, especially when it wakes you up in the middle of the night…”more

Dolls for the End of the World

Dolls for the End of the World

Fiction by

The warmth came and left, and, no sooner, it left and came. There was no way to guess what the world would become. At least it remained. Charred oak trees surrounded by misplaced puddles. Rivers as black as burnt cherries. Sputtering flames along the receding riverbanks. Days shorter and, still, longer. Patrick stood on themore

BULLshot: Chris Tarry

BULLshot: Chris Tarry

One-Question Interview by

The author of “Here Be Dragons” on the genesis of stay-at-home dads of the Dark Agesmore