Deafness, conspiracy theories, and an S.R.O.
Welcome back to Memoir Monday—a weekly newsletter and quarterly reading series, brought to you by Narratively, The Rumpus, Catapult, Granta, Guernica, and Literary Hub. Each essay in this newsletter has been selected by the editors at the above publications as the best of the week, delivered to you all in one place.
Coming Home to Somewhere Unfamiliar
by Lilly Dancyger (art by Joe Schactman)
I stood up, shoving my notebook full of doodles into my messenger bag next to my Discman and the pint of vodka I’d been saving for lunch, and walked out. Ms. Gamper called after me with some irrelevant threats about grades or detention, but I wasn’t listening. I walked down the empty third-floor hallway, ran down the three flights of caged-in stairs, and waved goodbye to the security guard with a smile on my way out the front door. The second I stepped outside, it was like a flying dream. When I fly in dreams I don’t soar; I take huge bounds, where each step propels me high into the air and yards forward before I float slowly back down and then bounce upward again with the next step. Walking out of high school felt like that—the buoyancy of freedom. I never went back, my high school career over after one semester of ninth grade.
Queen of the S.R.O.
by Ray W. Hayden
From our conversations, I could sense she was bonding with several of the other residents, probably because many of their plights were similar to hers. They shared food and drink and hung out all the time. I guess they leaned on each other for support. But while Mom was spreading holiday cheer around the hotel, she was still hurting on the inside. I could tell, because she called me several times, still refusing to tell me where she was because she didn’t want me to visit. But we had long talks and she went into details about the people she lived with. I knew in my heart that she was partying again. That was the reason why she didn’t want to see me.
False Memories and Manufactured Myths: Growing Up in a Conspiracy Theory Household
by Faith Merino
I remember the first time I realized my facts weren’t just incomplete but wrong. I was 16 and debating abortion with someone online (as one did in 2001), and I said, “Are you denying the fact that a twelve-week-old fetus has a preferred sleep position?!” To which my opponent responded: “Yes.” It wasn’t even a real rebuttal, but it still made me question what my mother—a crisis pregnancy center volunteer—had taught me.
Learning to Write My Truth as a Deaf Queer Writer
by Ross Showalter
Before, I had dreaded workshops simply because I was bringing in stories about Deaf people to a room full of hearing people. Participating in writing workshops means you are introduced to other people’s perspectives, their minds, and their traumas, which are all part of their stories. It also means that you are introduced to their prejudices, their pet peeves, and their assumptions. I submitted my stories, and people responded in the ways they knew how. Peers’ biases showed up in their annotated copies and their critique letters.
Writers’ Resources
Check out these writing exercises to identify what you’re writing about, from Catapult
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