SCARLET: A literary blog by Jaded Ibis Press
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When I was a kid growing up in a white (and cis and straight) suburb of Cleveland, Ohio, my mom worked hard to raise us with sensitivity and intelligence around issues of race, class, physical ability, and discrimination. Not an easy task in a

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Rebecca-Kuder

My ex-husband suffered bipolar disorder. We lived among the facts of his illness. Trips to the emergency room, where he sought relief from migraine pain. Nests of paper scraps littering the futon where he had fallen asleep — finally —

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Caitlyn-Bagwell

My graduate reading was supposed to be fifteen minutes, which is a hard number to hit. It’s too much time for a short piece and not enough time for a long one, so I spent the night before furiously editing my piece to fit. I took a chance and

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Charles-Bane-Jr

Of all the gifts a poet can be given, epilepsy is the richest. I fell when I was four. It was kept hidden by my family; my father had it scrubbed from my medical records. But my life was already deeply private, because I was a child poet and

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Barbara-ONeal

A few years ago, I taught a class on recovering joy in the writing process. It wasn’t quite right at the time, and I have not had time to really dig into what would make it better, but I stumbled over some of the notes recently. I have also

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