The Bullet in My Mother's Head |
I first became worried about the bullet in my mother's head two days after she died. I was afraid the bullet was going to explode. In truth, it was bullet fragments, and they weren't what ended my mother's life. She was the rarest of cases: a woman who had survived her own murder. When the mortician handed me her death certificate, it read, "Age: 58. Cause of death: Cardiopulmonary failure"—as a result of her lung cancer. One room away, my mother's body was being prepared for cremation. I imagined the fire incinerating her flesh, then tried to shake that thought. She was in her white nightgown, the one with lace, the one she always wore when she appeared in the kitchen at night, emerging from a dream, crinkles around her eyes, happily curious about where I'd been that day and what I'd seen. The mortician—unaware of the assault my mother had survived all those years ago, when she was kidnapped, raped, and shot—struggled to understand my panic and my question. While my mother was alive, the crimes perpetrated on her in that alley remained abstract to me—a story. I knew one fact for sure, that had the bullet been, in the words of the neurosurgeon who treated her, "a hair over," she wouldn't have survived. I wouldn't have ever been born. Why, now that she was gone, now that her body was in the next room, was the incident starting to feel closer than ever? |
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This Election Is Now Selfishness Against Selflessness |
At the RNC, as a parade of MAGA stars showed off the work of their overzealous aestheticians, arranging their frozen faces the best they could into expressions that approximated sincerity, a narrative emerged: Not even an assassin's bullet could keep Trump from running for president. Not even a couple square inches of bandage on his ear could keep him from a stadium full of worshipers and a chance to be on television. What a patriot. For Trump so loved the world that he gave two centimeters of his ear. He was willing to shed several drops of blood for his country, finally, at age seventy-eight. The crowd of people a few tax brackets below those who could afford Juvéderm and enormous veneers worshiped with Pentecostal fervor. But then! President Joe Biden announced on July 21, out of the public eye and away from TV cameras, that he would not be seeking reelection. Many professional political opinionators have pointed out that Biden's decision to choose his country over his political career was an act of patriotism–like LBJ without the mean streak. I can't say if he was being patriotic or finally running out of energy to fend off accusations that he was too old and too scattered to be a viable candidate for president, but of this I'm certain: His decision to step aside was an act of selflessness that highlights a life of self-sacrifice that the other guy just can't compete with. |
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23 Best White Sneakers for Men to Wear with Everything |
There's a reason the white sneaker has become the go-to champion for so many sneaker stalwarts and DTC upstarts alike: It's a hero product, in the most literal sense of the word. As in, it's here to save you after you swore off sneakers for all of, like, a month before you realized there's no loafer on earth as comfortable as your favorite pair of runners. Easy to style, endlessly versatile, and somehow always elegant, the white sneaker—in leather, canvas, suede, or even some high-tech knitted fabric—is a year-round staple, and it's here to stay. The white sneaker is endlessly cool, easy to dress up or dress down, and, at the end of the day, it's a closet staple that every man should own. With a new season should come cleaner white sneakers, too—if you're looking for a pair to replace your beat-up old kicks, look no further. From high-tops to lows, swanky designer versions to the classics that'll never go out of style, we've rounded up some of the best white sneakers available now. These are the styles our editors have tried, tested, and loved. Pair 'em with anything in your closet and then go merrily on your way. |
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The Best Bars in America 2024 |
More bars these days seem to be a complete package, like a nightlife one-stop shop. They can be a club if you want—you know, the kind you dance in. They can be the place where you order a bottle of Champagne and endless oysters. They can be a jazz lounge. They can be the place where you think you've stumbled on a garage party attended by the city's coolest people (in a city you didn't know had cool people). They can be that dimly lit vault where you and everyone else become someone else. Bars have always been that third place, the spot where you hang outside work and home. But as we've discovered crisscrossing the country over the past twelve months to visit the new bars, they're doing that in more nuanced and varied ways than they have in a long time. It's not just about the drinks. Then again, it's never just about the drinks. |
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We Need Speculative Fiction Now More Than Ever |
To my own shame, I have become a jaded reader in recent years. By this I mean that my enthusiasm and curiosity, my drive to experience new worlds, have all been damaged by a persistent disjunct between reality and the speculative fiction I most enjoy. Is it any wonder, given the horrors of Trump's first regime, the looming threat of another, a global plague allowed to run rampant, and a billionaire-backed culture war on the rest of us? I'm more jaded about everything now. Escapism at this juncture feels like a way to temporarily pretend that everything is fine—and while there's value in taking a break from hell, it also feels dangerous. Like drinking to drown my sorrows; nothing wrong with alcohol now and again, but nobody needs a steady diet of oblivion. What I've found myself seeking instead are philosophies of entropy and survival—that is, fiction that addresses multifaceted decay and the psychology needed to survive it. At this point (to mangle Audre Lorde), the massa has handed his tools out freely after designing them to break at first usage, buying out the only shop that could fix them (and the only newspaper that tried to report on the scam), and charging all customers a subscription fee. And these days, it's no longer just us marginalized folks who need our media to acknowledge the slow-motion apocalypse we're all trapped in. |
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3 Fashion Brands That Are Doing Skincare Right |
Major fashion brands are interested in your skin. Not in a creepy way. They are banking on the idea that if you like what they do for your wardrobe, you're going to love what they do for your mug. The good news is that these labels have technology and money that upstart brands usually don't. That translates into new ingredients, more elegant formulas, and packaging designed with the same care that goes into the clothes. So whether you're looking for a cutting-edge face cream, a simple all-in-one routine, or an excellent natural body lotion, here are three labels to know when you're ready to make over your medicine cabinet. |
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