The New York Times column: "I Am Not a Mother. But I Am Something."
When you realize you are outside of what has been deemed normal, what has been named and defined, these are the things you feel you lack: Dignity, autonomy, belonging. And a shared understanding of the role you play. Read More.
“City Swarm,” Kenyon Review, graphic essay
A graphic essay in collaboration with illustrator Meggan Kehrli featured in the eco-writing section of this issue. Read more.
“Rh,” The Southern Review, lyric essay
A basin of blood sitting on the floor. The same one used for washing. Nobody thinks to dip their hand in and spread some over the farmhouse door, warning the angel of death to stay away, not to come for this child. Read More.
"Boarderlands," 2nd Story, storytelling
It was a warm, summer night in Boston. I was asleep in my bedroom, on the first floor of a three-family house. The windows were open, letting in damp summer air and orange light from the streetlamp outside. I remember waking and opening my eyes slowly. Then … jumping. Listen.
Paula in Conversation with the Kenyon Review
I grew up in a home that was filled with both science and religion: my father a chemist, my mother a devout Christian. Therefore, I tend not to see the two as necessarily separate. Read More.
“Margarine: A Public and Personal History,” The Rumpus, essay
When I think of sitting at the kitchen table as a child eating dinner, I don’t have memories of luscious homemade foods. I don’t see fresh pasta or fried tortillas. I don’t see tarts or puddings. I see margarine. Read More.