My father wasn’t at my wedding, either.
With little to no hope on marriage equality in Indonesia, my own wedding day is a day that will probably never come.
On betrayal, rage and searching for answers.
On grief, morning runs, and not getting drunk to late-night news broadcasts alone anymore.
But also it kind of was?
If you told me a year ago that I'd watch my husband get a blowjob from a stranger and not feel jealous, I'd have laughed in your face.
“Even after you’re dead, people are eventually going to find out about who you really were.”
After Bourdain, we tried to become better—as cooks, as people—and began to reexamine why it was we punched the clock and one another in the dicks.
The president is crazy enough. Alcohol would make it so much worse.
When an artery in someone's head bursts, there's very little that can prepare you.
My first feature film, about a black girl who dances, kisses, and reads the Qur'an, is my way of fighting erasure of the things I love.
I couldn’t protect my brothers from my dad, so what good was I?