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Feminism/Gender

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Sugar Skulls, Black Eyes, and the Horror of Trump

Photo by Neil McElmon

Photo by Neil McElmon

On Friday night I found myself crushed into the middle of a dia de los muertes themed dance floor, in a club for the first time in Beyonce knows how many years, writhing along to too-loud music and trying to escape the bump and grind grasp of sugar-skull-painted dudes behind me.

I was there to watch my little sister Claire perform with her dance group Subscura, and it was unreal. Watching this person I’d seen grow from a newborn to a toddler to a child to a teenager, always strong, often lost, finally come into herself onstage as a lithe, vibrant and incredibly powerful woman – I have no words. I just kept screaming “That’s my SISTER!” over and over again. I was so, so proud.

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