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    The Sun InterviewBy Naomi PittsStandards of CareRolonda Donelson on Bias and Anti-Science Attitudes in Medicine

    The reason Black women were used to develop the field of gynecology was because they were no more than property. They weren’t seen as people; they were just seen as things. The controlling of Black women’s bodies started with chattel slavery, but it continues today.

    Milk
    Readers WriteBy Our ReadersMilk

    Pumped for an infant, spilled at the dinner table, used as a tear gas antidote

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June 2017

issue 498 cover
Purchase Print Issue
Departments

Become A Friend Of The Sun

Readers Write
Readers Write

Losing

A family heirloom, a best friend, a teen’s virginity

ByOur Readers
The Dog-Eared Page
The Dog-Eared Page

The Good Samaritan

Once a certain scribe stood up and said, “Rabbi, what must I do to gain eternal life?”

ByStephen Mitchell
Quotations
Quotations

Sunbeams

Life is just a short walk from the cradle to the grave — and it sure behooves us to be kind to one another along the way.

Alice Childress

June 2017

issue 498 cover
Purchase Print Issue
Hooked
The Sun Interview

Hooked

Maia Szalavitz Debunks Myths About Addiction

As I said, maintenance treatment cuts the death rate for opioid addiction in half, which is better than any other method that’s been studied. If you went to a cancer center and weren’t even offered the treatment that reduced your risk of death the most, you would have grounds for a malpractice case. Yet most residential addiction-treatment centers do not offer maintenance treatment and, in fact, oppose it, saying it’s not “real” recovery.

ByArnie Cooper
Peanut
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories

Peanut

The goat became my charge during my third week in rehab. My counselor, Victoria, suggested I browse the stuffed-animal collection at the clinic gift shop and select one to represent my inner child. “Care for it,” she told me. “Keep it safe. Treat your inner child as you would a baby bird that’s fallen out of its nest.” She cupped her hands, as if to cradle a tiny chick.

ByBrooke Ferguson
Missed Call
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories

Missed Call

It’s 7 AM, and I’ve finally come back to my car. I force myself to check my phone and assess the damage: four missed calls — three from Rebecca, my girlfriend, and one from my father. I’m parked at a Pavilions grocery store on Melrose in Hollywood, a few blocks from the gay bathhouse where I’ve been since yesterday evening.

ByRobert Bitsko
Lost
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories

Lost

People have started offering you desserts in a way they think is casual, saying, “It’s just one bite. It won’t make a difference!” But it does. You can eat certain foods and you cannot eat others, and this is the only way you can feel OK. Losing weight is not the point.

ByKathryn Phelan
When I Was Invincible
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories

When I Was Invincible

So many times I would take risks that should have scared me but didn’t. When you grow up in a big city with hands-off parents, you become accustomed to harrowing situations. You may even come to feel that the wet plum of fear living permanently in your gut is essential to your being.

ByFrances Lefkowitz
Recovery
Fiction

Recovery

Jeff is getting ready to start the meeting, pretending since I walked in that he hasn’t seen me. I don’t blame him for that, but I feel like telling everyone that most of the shit they spout in these places isn’t true. If it were, Jeff wouldn’t be ducking me; he’d be taking me on in front of everyone and forcing the Truth. Where’s your Fearless and Searching Moral Inventory, Jeff?

ByJessica Halliday
Poetry

Truth Telling

In his version the river had practically dried up. / No way, I said. I was there not long ago. / The river looked fine.

ByCatherine Freeling
Poetry

Not So Easy, Saving Sentient Beings

When I drank, many people / tried to get me to quit. / When I drank, I drank the way / this cardinal is smashing into / our living-room window again / and again

ByLisa Bellamy
Poetry

Years Later, I Go Back To Thank You

I walk past the Kwik Trip where you found me / in the dumpster, tunneling for canned food. / Past the VFW where you bought us burgers, / newspaper now taped over the windows.

ByAnders Carlson-Wee
Poetry

Truant

Our high-school principal wagged his finger / over two manila folders / lying on his desk, labeled with our names — / my boyfriend and me, / called to his office for skipping school.

ByMargaret Hasse

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