• Slut Pages

    California Boi

    The first guy I dated in LA was a stereotypical “California Boi.” He also was the embodiment of all of the flaws I’ve encountered dating as a millennial. I met Jake at a Lil’ Dicky show, I probably should have seen that as a sign. My drunken alter ego, Veda,  had pretty much taken over that night, so I don’t recall exactly how we met. He told me I came up to him, said “nice nipples,” and started rubbing his chest. Sounds right. I do remember being on the balcony at the Fonda theater in Hollywood, Lil’ Dicky running around the stage below in an unbuttoned baseball jersey with no…

  • Wise Hoe Column

    Fish Set Free

    My first show in LA was at an intimate venue in Echo Park, called Vega’s Meat Market. It felt more like some friends playing music in an empty living room than a show. I saw Genevieve, the singer of the band Company of Thieves, who had recently released a very personal solo album on Audiotree, after moving to LA and finding herself and her voice, her loud and bold, yet sweet and beautiful voice. My friend, who had also recently relocated to LA, showed me her NPR Tiny Desk concert. When I heard the song “The Enemy,” it moved me to tears. In an interview, Genevieve says the song was…

  • Psycho Bitch Digest

    A Survivor’s Thoughts on 13 Reasons Why

    I’m what you’d call a survivor. I’ve lost multiple family members and friends to suicide. I’ve had three major depressive episodes in my life where I contemplated suicide. Here are my thoughts on the controversial Netflix series 13 Reasons Why. We’ve all witnessed shocking, gruesome things on television. I always turned my head during rape scenes, but I used to love gory scenes. After my first loss to suicide, these scenes began to trigger me. I first noticed this when I started crying uncontrollably during the movie “Cocktail,” after a character sliced his own throat. If someone even puts a gun to their head, I have flashbacks of my loved…

  • Psycho Bitch Digest

    Victim to Victor

    Each day I get to know myself a little better, almost too well. I learn things no one wants to know about themselves. No one wants to look into the mirror and see all your demons staring back. I master the language of my body, every ache, every pain, every gurgle in my stomach gets acknowledged. I start to wait on her hand and foot, all day long I aim to please none but she…me. I form a routine around pampering myself, eating right, sleeping enough, drinking plenty of water, the simple things I never gave any thought to. I take long hot showers, sorry California drought, and no one…

  • Wise Hoe Column

    City of Misfits

    It’s a stereotypical Southern California day, not a single cloud blemishes an electric blue sky. Her intoxicating beauty seems to stretch infinitely in all directions. I try to capture this moment with a selfie, but the wind keeps whipping my hair and slapping me in the face. I step into the icy water and it burns my feet. I sink into the ground with each wave, the coarse sand massages and exfoliates my feet. I walk deeper and deeper into the water and leap in. I get sucked under, flip upside down, and sometime while my knees are dragging along the bottom of the ocean, I get de-pantsed. She doesn’t…

  • White Trash Report

    High School

    I found a home at a really great charter high school in Los Angeles and spent two years working there alongside many passionate teachers and administrators. We didn’t necessarily get the highest test scores, but between picking up the remnants of a decade of poor education and combatting all of the symptoms of poverty, we had one hell of a job to do. We did our best, but all the love in the world can’t fix the broken system. The school was huge, with close to 3,000 students, 92% minorities, mostly Hispanic. It’s a Title 1 school, meaning at least 40% of students live under the poverty level. They were…

  • White Trash Report

    Middle School

    I left my job at the elementary school for a temp job that sent me to different schools, still doing behavioral intervention. My first assignment was in South Los Angeles, not far from Compton. After I checked in with the office, I had to walk past a security guard and through a metal detector to get on campus. There were many bungalows, each one guarded by a burly security guard. Nearly all of the students were African American, many were in foster care, on probation, or both They were the property of a broken system.  I have worked in many impoverished elementary schools in New York, I worked with a…

  • White Trash Report

    Elementary

    My first job in LA was as a behavioral therapist in an elementary school near Van Nuys. It was a small school, consisting of a few bungalows scattered on a concrete slab, along with a basketball hoop, a jungle gym, and a little grassy area we called a track. There was a gymnasium, although we rarely had a gym teacher so we walked the “track” every day to compensate. We had a puny library only containing a few books that have mostly been donated.   Students ate their microwaved lunches on picnic tables under a concrete awning. There was one guy who seemed to do everything from security to maintenance.…

  • White Trash Report

    Letter to My Students

    Dear class, You were the bane of my existence for the first few months of the school year, but over time you transformed my thoughts of you from a bunch of disrespectful, rude little jerks, who think rape is funny and going to jail is cool, to a bunch of innocent children who are simply victims of their environments and society’s neglect. You’ve taught me a lesson in life. You’ve shown me a despicable reality of the world. To the people in charge, the ones who make the rules, we are not equal. You’ve shown me the simplicity of people, how easily we mold, simply do what we’re told. All…

  • White Trash Report

    Liberty and Justice for Some

    I’ve worked in many schools in different cities, with various ages and diverse populations, of disparate amounts of luck and chances. They all shared one thing. Every morning, every school recites the Pledge of Allegiance, in unity. The longer I work in education, the more students I meet, all the stories I hear, the variances in pasts, presents, and futures that I witness, the more bitterness flows through my veins every morning as I recite this patriotic declaration. Every morning I stand up in front of my students, with their brave, hopeful faces. Together we salute the flag, hands on hearts. When I say “with liberty and justice for all,”…

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