She asked him not to, but she didn’t scream or fight.
I understood the blank stares and raw anguish when I asked those students about their homes.
It felt like being on a ledge, with vast emptiness below my feet. I wasn't writing—but I wasn't not writing.
I just knew that, as a black woman, if I wanted to write, I needed some credentials.
There are no hard-and-fast rules about the ethics of spoilers, only the social consequences of being judged as uncouth.
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