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Seeing Susan Sarandon With Magical Eyes

Dana Theus, May 13, 2010

When all else fails, give instead of taking.

I'm not a celebrity hound. I usually turn and run away when I see someone famous because as much as I'd love to say something, I just get all tongue tied and think, "What could that famous person possibly find interesting that I might say?" This is what made me scuttle away to hide in the action flicks section of the video store when I (literally) ran into Steve Martin in Sherman Oaks in about - uh - 1982. And Richard Dreyfuss at the Willard Hotel in Washington D.C. in 1997. I'm really empathetic - and a natural introvert - so I imagine that everyone would just really prefer to be left alone.

How Owning My Name Reconnected Me to My Roots

Guest Author, May 1, 2010

Pinkies, please welcome Marjorie Florestal as she makes her debut on the Pink mainstage. Join us in holding warm space for her as she tells the story of reconnecting with her culture. Welcome Marjorie, and thank you!

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“What’s in a name?” Shakespeare asks. After all, a rose is a rose is a rose. And yet, I know this not to be true. When I read Colson Whitehead’s brilliant novel, Apex Hides the Hurt, I couldn’t help but let out one good, hard, soul-splitting belly laugh as I stumbled across this line: “A rose by any other name would wilt fast, smell like bitter almonds . . . God help you if the thorns broke the skin.” Yes, I thought. The name of a rose gives it its very identity. We could call it something else, but then it would be something else. It was only when I recognized this one simple truth that I came to know what I needed to do. I needed to reclaim a long forgotten part of myself. I needed to reclaim my own true name.