Columnists

Only in this fuckside-down world of Tronald Dump could I find refuge in a place where people go to die. I feel such empathy for my dad and everybody there. And I recognize this might be the kind of place I’ll be plopped into before...
View This Article →

We cry for ourselves when someone is going to die. We cry for the potential loss of them in our lives. When a death sentence is pronounced, we cry for the pain we anticipate. But what happens when against all odds, someone continues to live,...
View This Article →

So it’s all rolled around again — quicker now as I’ve aged. Earlier, too, but that’s not my fault. Blame capitalism. I saw Christmas stuff out before Thanksgiving hadn’t even happened yet. I was not alone in my irritation — people around me nodded in...
View This Article →

When, in a December 2016 column for The Hill, I accused the New York Times, the venerable “Gray Lady” of American journalism, of violating basic journalistic ethics in its reporting on the arrest of a patently mentally ill man in D.C. — and then, the...
View This Article →

In situations of captivity the perpetrator becomes the most powerful person in the life of the victim, and the psychology of the victim is shaped by the actions and beliefs of the perpetrator. Judith Lewis Herman, Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence – From...
View This Article →

Dear Steve, Fifty-five years ago tomorrow, plus two weeks, they sat me down on a comfy chair (upholstered in plaid – why do I remember that?) and gently laid your warm, soft, surprisingly heavy little body onto my lap and said, “Martha, this is your...
View This Article →

When, in October 2016, I wrote “death row inmates in Alabama are human guinea pigs” because the state’s capital punishment regime — specifically its barbaric, often bungled lethal injection protocol — is already so dark, so depraved, so outrageously cloaked in lies and officious secrecy,...
View This Article →

Mama tied a blindfold over my eyes. The next thing I felt my flesh was being cut away. I heard the blade sawing back and forth through my skin. The pain between my legs was so intense I wished I would die. Waris Dirie, UNFPA...
View This Article →

“Dad, I can’t make it,” the 17 year old yelled through the phone. Flames had surrounded his vehicle and he would have to leave it if he wanted to escape the flames. He jumped out and started running. His cell phone lost connection, his terrified...
View This Article →