I love brilliant writing, and I love personal narative essays, and I’ll be damned if the lit major in me ever dies. Here we are with an essay by Jill Soloway on women and diamonds, something that we’re taught is the ULTIMATE GIFT from a man. Why is that? Proposal/marriage I guess that I can understand, but in other instances, take me to London, please.

The Excerpt:
"And it’s true, I do, I have rage, I have all kinds of rage about all kinds of things, not just how no one cares about feminism anymore but a what the fuck rage, this rage that’s worse in the morning coffee fueled serotonin rush, where I can be driving to work and
on the radio hear 2000 Factory Cash Back on Siena and I get mad.
For no reason. Okay, well, there’s clearly a reason there- it should
be 2000 Factory cash back on A Siena or on THE Sienna but they just
say ON SIENA like we’re all just supposed to just intuitively know that car names don’t need articles before them anymore."

Link: FRESH YARN presents Diamonds… by Jill Soloway.