The Color of Strawberries (or, Sometimes Racism Isn’t)

The Color of Strawberries (or, Sometimes Racism Isn’t)

My grandmother hated strawberries the most. She loved to eat them of course, ripe and sweet and seeded with sunlight and good soil.  Tucked into neat mounds cuddled in black plastic and covered with pale woodchips.  But she hated the harvesting.  Bending low, crawling forward inch by inch on scabbed knees as a hunched spine [...]

Chinatown: Thoughts on Migration, Being a Tourist, and Sesame Rolls

Chinatown: Thoughts on Migration, Being a Tourist, and Sesame Rolls

Here is the thing about San Francisco. You can drive around for HOURS looking for parking, spend several MORE hours REFUSING to pay the astronomical parking fees, and then either finally cave or HOPEFULLY find free parking (pending you land on that magical time between 6am and 6pm when it is closed for construction and [...]