Rebellion

On my study’s display shelf devoted to cherished objects stands a miniature porcelain Dutch clog from Delft. HOLLAND it proclaims above a hand-painted image of a windmill and house by a river, small waves brought to life by slashes of cobalt glaze applied by a skilled hand.

At first, I wonder if this is a memento from a trip to the Netherlands, homeland of my maternal grandfather. My cousin sends me photographs of other Delft blue and white porcelain brought from Zeeland by our great-grandmother and given to her mother, my aunt: a set of two canisters, a platter, a dairymaid statuette. I fantasize that this clog creates a connection between me and relatives I’ve never met. I want this heirloom to show me how I belong to this family, and it does, but not in the way I expect.

Oil and WaterKristina BuschMarch 24, 2025Family, addiction, alcoholism, MotherhoodComment

Rising

On an early evening during our first pandemic winter, I closed my laptop and commuted from my home office upstairs to our kitchen below. Another day of quarantine, another at-home meal to prepare for my family. That afternoon I had kneaded pizza dough and left it to rise inside the corner cabinet, warmed by the heating duct that runs beneath it. Now, the plaid kitchen towel draped over the bowl puffed above the rim, like the fabric below the empire waist of a maternity dress.

FeastJulia NusbaumAugust 1, 2024Food Writing, Women Writers, Pizza, Family, family issues, Covid-19Comment

Tamale Weather

It’s December 1999, and the world hasn’t ended yet. The dreary weather reflects the pit of dread in my stomach, and nothing tastes right. My mother pulls down her largest pot from the top shelf of glory, and she shines it for show because today is the day.

FeastJulia NusbaumJuly 30, 2024Feast, Food Writing, Childhood, Family, Sisters Comments

Exempt Human Specimens

According to the United States Postal Service website, it’s illegal to send body parts through the mail.

“Heavily restricted,” is a better way to put it. You need the necessary permits, containers, a transport license from the American Association of Mortuary Shippers. There are rules involved, special restrictions; same goes for dry ice and lithium batteries. You can mail live bees, but not medical marijuana. Those thin, translucent lines that keep us from stuffing a toe into a manila envelope on the way to work.

GriefJulia NusbaumAugust 29, 2023death and dying, grief, Family, pregnancy, motherhoodComment

Appetite

Desmond turns to us as we watch television and says, “I want another cat.” His lengthy eleven-year-old body reclines on our worn leather couch, hands clasped behind his head, his elbows spread like wings. After three days, his crying has subsided, and his confident expression suggests he has solved a problem.

Resilient WomenJulia NusbaumSeptember 23, 2020Women of power, Grief, Family, death of a child, Love, Forgiveness Comment

Murmuration

I was on my hands and knees trying to hide a twelve-piece dinner set under my single bed when I heard Mum calling from the bedroom next door. She’d been in bed for two days, suffering from either a bad back or codeine withdrawals. I pushed the crockery behind a box of stainless steel cutlery and some gingham tea towels I’d bought from Woolworth’s the day before.

Coming Out StoriesGuest UserFebruary 28, 2020Coming out, Family, Anger, LGBTQ+Comment

The Royalty of Brooklyn

Grandma Helen was my fancy grandmother. Born in 1909, she was the firstborn child of Julius and Mary Nelson’s five children. Her tall, blue-eyed father liked to tell her that her birth brought him luck. After Grandma arrived, Julius went from selling newspapers on the Lower East Side to learning the trade in his wife’s family’s coat business.

Monthly Theme

Herstry LLC
Milwaukee, WI
Contact us

About herstry
Archive
Jobs
Press
Sponsorships
Upcoming Events
Write for us
Shop

Read:
Personal Essays
Monthly Theme Essays