“Answering the Call of Conscience in the Call Out Culture” continues my accounting of, and critical reflection on, the ethical and political dimensions of having been falsely accused of sexual assault online.
J. Sumerau·
All ContentAutoethnographic Flash NonfictionAutoethnographic Literary FictionVolume 3, Issue 4 (2023)
··19 min readThis short story about a night in a shed is an attempt to encourage any reader to think about the stories that circulate within communities.
You will find ten poems by ten Albanian poets (mostly women poets) from Kosovo and Albania and our diaspora, translated into English by me.
I share the complexity of my frustration about a failed site visit to the British Museum and wonder about the meaning of the experience.
This autoethnographic essay offers a musing on the intricate relationship between language, writing and identity through an autoethnographic account of my reading and writing experience from childhood to present, and from China to the UK via Germany.
The otherness is not somewhere out there. It’s in me. Still, my search did not stop to this discovery. It took me profoundly even further. It took me to love and poetry.
Catholic Boy Fights the Devil in the Mohawk River Valley is a short story that’s set in upstate New York during World War II. At a time when America was fighting fascist devils abroad, many were struggling with the devil’s influence at home.
Odesa addresses the traumas of struggling immigrants, who face rejection and shunning rather than acceptance and understanding.
In my short story, “Cubicle,” a student filmmaker discovers loneliness, absurdity, and cruelty in the halls of Corporate America—but also finds his artistic voice.
“Four Essays on Being Trans in the Anthropocene” in one of autoethnographic works on my queerness and informed by speculative anthropology.
This sestina poem reflects and validates my own personal experience as a 14-year-old who was dealing with something I couldn’t initially even name; anxiety.
In Saying Goodbye: A Father's Last Minute Parting Gift to His Son, I channel the moments I remember from the night before my mother died.
