ASF is recognizing Black History Month by sharing, for the first time online, four stories from our Winter 2020 issue, which showcased emerging Black writers selected by guest editor and PEN American Robert W. Bingham Prize winner Danielle Evans. Here is author Selena Anderson, reflecting on the experience of writing this story: The inspiration for writing “A Shameful Citizen” came when I started noticing a few new patterns in my life. I was getting predictive text but with people. I’d go … [Read more...] about A Shameful Citizen
NOTEBOOK FEATURE
On Balconies
Everybody loved Berlin except for me and Emory. From my rented bed I could hear the others laughing in the streets. I’d pass the empty bottles on the curbs, lined up like tiny cities for the homeless to collect. Where New York had rooftops; Berlin had balconies, and everywhere I went I was sad and dumb and twenty-two—an age that pretends to matter when it doesn’t. — Emory and I didn’t like each other, but we didn’t have anyone else. We moved to Berlin on the same day in September, and a mutual … [Read more...] about On Balconies
What the Tide Returns
She counts the children as they come through the door—one, two, and three—to reassure herself that they are hers. She can’t say just how happy she is to see them; she’s missed them all summer long. She hardly recognizes them; they’re browner than ever before, and somehow warmer to the touch. She hugs them and her hands come away coated with fine grains of sand. Both boys come back taller and sporting fresh haircuts. The girl is fuller around the hips and her hair is braided in a different … [Read more...] about What the Tide Returns
Balikbayan
Two of my uncles hoisted the balikbayan box out of the truck bed. I heard the package hit the ground even though I was ten meters away, sitting on the porch, where I always sat. My seven younger cousins played with marbles in the shade, but when my uncles waved them over, they raced across the driveway to swarm the gift like moths around a fire. My aunts and uncles tore the tape away and removed a dozen toys, each wrapped in colorful cardboard and pristine plastic, jammed between hand-me-down … [Read more...] about Balikbayan
Rockaway
In May, Amy called to say she was squatting in the caretaker’s quarters of the Rockaway Motel. She needed her car; she wanted to sell it. When I pulled her old Volvo wagon into the dusky parking lot, I could see it had once been a nice getaway: empty pool in the middle of a courtyard surrounded by a clutch of cabins. Thick stands of pitch pine protected the motel from the sea. The caretaker’s quarters were cavernous and shadowy, a paneled welcome desk near the door. I shouldn’t have been … [Read more...] about Rockaway
The Chimp
Down slid the chimp. Not quite like a fireman, more hand-over-hand because the pole inside the four-foot-wide acrylic cylinder running floor-to-ceiling in the middle of my apartment had branches. Surely, shit piled on the floor below – the chimp was good at tearing off his diaper – but the beauty of it was I couldn't see it or smell it, and the rent was great because the chimp's owner kept the top and bottom apartments of the triplex. You'll never meet your neighbor, said the realtor, but his … [Read more...] about The Chimp